We'd barely been in the car for five minutes when Lorenzo leaned back with an exaggerated sigh, staring out the window like the universe had personally wronged him.

"I can't believe you made them like you more than they like me."

I gave him a sideways glance, hiding a smirk. "I mean, I'm delightful. You're... tolerated."

"That's debatable."

"Also," I added, inspecting my nails with mock innocence, "Astha said she's already planning a girls' brunch. You're not invited."

Lorenzo groaned. "God, what have I done."

"Introduced me to people with functioning social skills?"

He narrowed his eyes, but I could tell he was holding back a smile.

The wind slipped through the slightly open windows, ruffling my curled hair, the city slowly passing us by. The golden hour painted the skyline in warm hues—so soft, so unreal. It felt like the kind of moment you tuck away to remember later. Something safe. Something good.

I rested my head lightly against the seat and whispered, almost to myself, "I still can't believe I made a friend today."

Lorenzo looked at me then. Really looked. "You surprised?"

"I guess..." I exhaled slowly. "It's just been a long time. Three, four years maybe? I stopped letting people in. I just... stayed in my room. Avoided the world. It was easier that way."

There was a quiet pause. The playful air shifted into something more fragile, more real.

"I'm glad you didn't stay in that room forever," Lorenzo said quietly.

I turned my head, surprised by the softness in his tone. His gaze was steady on the road, but his words lingered—like they'd been waiting to be said.

I smiled, barely. "Me too."

And then—

CRACK. CRACK. CRACK.

The sound was unmistakable. Sharp, terrifying. Like the sky had split open.

"What the—"

"DOWN!" Lorenzo shouted, suddenly jerking the steering wheel hard to the right as a bullet slammed into the side mirror, shattering it into dust.

The car skidded, tires screaming against the pavement. I yelped as he reached over and shoved me down beneath the dashboard, his body partly shielding mine.

Another shot. Then another. One hit the back windshield, spider-webbing the glass but not breaking it completely.

"Hold on," he muttered, eyes burning with focus, one hand gripping the steering wheel while the other reached into the glove compartment.

"Lorenzo!" I gasped, heart in my throat. "Who the hell is shooting at us?!"

"Working on it!" he growled, pulling out a gun and loading it in one practiced motion. "Don't move. No matter what."

"What do you mean 'don't move'? You just said bullets are flying at us—what if I have to move?!"

His eyes flicked to mine, just for a second. "Then I'll kill them before they even breathe near you."

The car sped up, swerving down a side alley, tires scraping the curb.

I didn't know who was after us. I didn't know why. But I knew one thing for sure:

This wasn't just about friendly lunches and pastel dresses anymore.

Something darker had followed us into the light.

The engine roared like a beast let loose as Lorenzo slammed the accelerator, the car jerking forward. My heart was pounding so loud it drowned out everything else.

I peeked up just enough to see through the cracked rear windshield.

A black SUV.

Sleek. Aggressive. And gaining on us fast.

"They're still behind us!" I shouted, adrenaline surging through me.

"No kidding," Lorenzo muttered, twisting the wheel hard left. We veered onto a narrow lane, dodging street vendors and startled pedestrians. I could hear the chaos we left behind—crashing stalls, angry shouts, tires screeching.

A sharp gunshot cracked through the air again. Metal sparked behind us.

I flinched. "Seriously?! This is like an action movie!"

"This is real life, sweetheart," he growled, eyes locked on the road. "And in real life, bullets kill. Stay down."

"I'd rather stay alive, thanks!"

"I'm working on it!"

We burst onto a wider road. Horns blared. The world turned into a kaleidoscope of noise and chaos. I clutched the edge of the seat, barefoot now, curls wild around my face. The acrid stench of gunpowder clung to the air, burning my lungs.

Then, without warning, Lorenzo reached over and unbuckled my seatbelt. My breath caught.

Before I could ask what he was doing, he pulled me swiftly onto his lap, keeping one hand steady on the wheel. My hands hit his chest in instinctive protest, eyes wide.

"What the hell are you doing?!" I shouted.

"Helping us survive. Can you help me?" he shot back, voice firm but low.

"What?"

He reached into the glove box, pulled out a sleek black gun, and pressed it gently into my hand. "I know you know how to fire. Aim for the tires. Do me a favor and get them off our tail."

Then he leaned past me, rolled the window down with a flick, and took a sharp U-turn that sent my stomach spinning.

I hesitated for a breath, then nodded. No time to question it. I shifted my weight, leaning halfway out the window, bracing my hand against the door.

My fingers found their memory. The weight of the gun. The steady pull of the trigger. A calmness I hadn't felt in years returned in seconds.

I aimed. Fired.

One tire burst in a violent spray of rubber.

Another car swerved.

"There are four of them!" I shouted.

"I know! Keep going!" he said, swerving again. "Thankfully the road's empty. Hold on!"

He barked commands through Bluetooth, something urgent and clipped to his assistant.

I managed to hit another tire. Two down. The rest slowed, trying not to crash into the wreckage. I fell back into my seat with a gasp, gun still in hand.

And I instantly felt the loss of his hand on my back—the warmth, the protection. The grounding force that had kept me still while I leaned out into madness.

He glanced at me. "You okay?"

I nodded, breathing hard. "Yeah. You?"

He didn't answer. Just tightened his jaw and veered off the main road toward a rusted warehouse on the outskirts. The car screeched to a halt inside the dim cavernous building. Dust hung in the air like old secrets.

Silence.

He pulled the handbrake and let out a breath like he'd been holding it the whole time.

I looked down at the gun still in my lap, fingers trembling now that the adrenaline was fading. A slow ache began in my chest.

"Siddharth bhai taught me to fire when I was twenty-two," I said softly, staring ahead. "My brothers argued for weeks. Said I didn't need to learn. But I... I needed something then. A distraction. Some control. And this—" I raised the gun slightly, "felt like power."

Lorenzo tossed his phone onto the car console, voice rough as he turned to me. "Are you okay?"

I looked up, meeting his gaze.

He didn't wait for my answer.

He reached over and gently pulled me back onto his lap—slowly this time, like asking without words.

Our bodies aligned again, too close, warm, alive. My breath hitched.

His hand slid to the small of my back, grounding me again. I was suddenly hyper-aware of everything—his heartbeat against my ribs, the heat in his breath, the way his thumb traced slow circles on my waist like he didn't even realize he was doing it.

I looked up. His blue eyes locked on mine, serious and unreadable. Then they softened.

"You're full of surprises," he murmured.

"So are you," I whispered back.

His gaze dropped to my lips, then back up. My hand rested on his chest, over his heart.

The space between us crackled.

I didn't think. I leaned in.

He met me halfway.

It wasn't rushed or wild—it was slow, deep, charged. A release. A promise. A grounding force after chaos. His lips moved against mine like he'd been holding back for too long, and I let myself fall into it, fingers curling in the fabric of his shirt.

The world outside could burn down. I didn't care.

Not when he kissed me like that.

The kiss deepened. Urgent, then slow. Then urgent again.

His lips tasted like adrenaline and heat, like danger and safety all tangled into one impossible paradox. I sank into him, his scent, his warmth, his everything. It was dizzying and grounding all at once—like falling and flying in the same breath.

When we broke apart, I rested my forehead against his, breath ragged, lips tingling.

"Damn," he said softly.

"Yeah," I breathed, half-dazed. "That was..."

"Unexpected?" he asked.

"Undeniable," I whispered.

He let out a shaky laugh, brushing his thumb along my jaw.

But just as I was about to lean into him again—

His phone buzzed sharply on the dashboard.

The spell shattered.

He picked it up, squinting at the caller ID. His jaw tightened instantly.

"What is it?" I asked, still catching my breath.

He didn't answer. Just pressed accept and brought the phone to his ear.

"This better be good," he snapped.

A pause.

His entire posture shifted.

"What do you mean they switched routes?" he barked. "You told me the decoy was solid."

Another pause. A longer one.

"Shit. How long do we have before they track this warehouse?"

That sent a chill down my spine.

"They're triangulating the GPS?" he said, voice deadly now. "I thought I told you to strip this car of everything."

He looked at me—eyes no longer soft, but sharp and calculating. The Lorenzo who had kissed me was gone.

The man in his place was lethal.

"Two minutes, tops. Got it. Bring the backup team now."

He ended the call and tossed the phone again, this time hard enough to rattle the console.

"What's happening?" I asked, sitting upright.

"They're not done. That SUV? Just a fraction of who's coming. Someone gave away our location."

I felt the chill seep into my veins. "What do we do now?"

"We wait thirty seconds. Then we move again. We don't have the luxury of staying still."

As if on cue, sleek headlights flooded the dark entrance of the warehouse.

A black armored car rolled in—blindingly polished even in the gloom.

The passenger door opened and a tall man stepped out in all black—clean-shaven, sharp features, earpiece clipped in. Lorenzo's assistant.

Behind him, two more men emerged—bodyguards dressed like shadows, guns holstered but ready.

"We've secured the north perimeter," the assistant said briskly, eyes scanning the space. "Route is cleared. Extraction in 45 seconds."

Lorenzo turned to me, voice low again. "You trust me?"

I looked at him. At his hand reaching out to mine. At the raw honesty flickering beneath the mask.

"I just kissed you," I said quietly. "That's either the dumbest or the bravest thing I've done in years."

A small smile tugged at his lips. "Let's hope it's the second one."

He laced his fingers through mine, guiding me out of the car.

And as the warehouse doors closed behind us and the armored vehicle sped off into the night, I knew one thing for sure—

Whatever this was between us, it had just become something dangerous.

And unforgettable.

____________________________________________________________

There goes Chapter 16.

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