The first shot shattered the quiet like a hammer through glass.
Andrea dropped instinctively, her body rolling behind the heavy oak dining table just as the chandelier above exploded into raining shards. Her pulse spiked, but her hands were steady as she pulled the pistol from her thigh holster and racked the slide.
Layla hit the floor beside her, calm as ever, reaching under the table. Andrea's head snapped around just in time to see her yank open a hidden panel. Inside was a small arsenal—rows of pistols, compact SMGs, even fragmentation grenades stacked in foam-lined compartments.
Andrea blinked. "You've gotta be kidding me."
Layla smirked, tossing her an extra magazine. "What?"
"This was supposed to be a vacation villa!" Andrea snapped, slamming the mag into her pistol.
Layla pulled out an MP7, the matte black frame gleaming in the light of the burning chandelier. She chambered a round with a clean snap. "Yeah," she said, voice dry. "Not anymore."
The two women sprinted for the leather sofa just as another hail of bullets tore through the walls. They dove behind it, wood splinters raining down.
Eunwoo slid across the floor to land beside Andrea, his movements sharp, almost surgical. He leaned against the sofa's frame, eyes narrowing at the shattered glass doors where masked men poured in. His voice cut through the chaos, clipped with his accent:
"They here," he said flatly. His lips curled in the faintest grimace. "Fuck the vacation."
Andrea snorted, popping up to fire two clean shots into the chest of a man crossing the threshold. "Tell me something I don't know!"
Eunwoo's eyes flicked to her, dark and steady even under fire. "Andrea. You have enemy."
She gave him a sharp look, almost a grin, even as she ducked back down. "Yeah? Took you this long to figure that out?"
From the other end of the room, Minjoon shouted, voice half-mocking even as he returned fire. "Andrea! If we get out alive—what will you do, huh?"
Andrea slammed a fresh mag into her pistol, snapping it shut with a hard click. "What do you want, boss?" she yelled back, irritation laced in her tone.
Eunwoo didn't hesitate. His gun barked twice, dropping a man near the doorway, before he turned his head slightly toward her. His words came calm, cutting, and sure."Wedding. Ceremony."
Andrea froze for half a heartbeat, her brain almost tripping over itself. She whipped her head toward him, disbelief sharp in her voice. "Who the hell is marrying you?"
Behind them, Layla burst out laughing even as she unleashed a spray of bullets across the dining hall. "You, obviously!"
Minjoon barked out his own laugh, ducking behind a toppled chair. "Yeah, Andrea. Didn't you know? You already said yes!"
Andrea's jaw dropped, heat rushing to her cheeks despite the hail of bullets around them. She fired back toward the advancing shadows with a frustrated grunt. "Okay, fine. In the next dream!"
She crouched lower, muttering under her breath as she reloaded again. "Because this one's already a nightmare."
Eunwoo smirked—just barely, but enough for her to catch it in the flicker of muzzle flash. That damned smirk, calm and infuriating, like bullets didn't faze him.
"Careful," he said, voice low, accented, almost teasing. "You sound like you agree."
She rolled her eyes so hard she thought they might get stuck. "Keep talking, and I'll make sure you don't live long enough for vows."
But her heart betrayed her, hammering faster than the rhythm of her shots.
───༝﹡﹒⊹ ₊˚₊✧༚❀༚✧₊˚₊⊹﹒﹡༝ ───
The firefight surged. Two attackers vaulted the broken windows, guns drawn. Andrea pivoted, firing once, then flipping the sofa up onto its side to form better cover. Layla shouted coordinates into her comms, calling rooftop angles, her shots precise.
Minjoon moved like a shadow, his rifle barking in controlled bursts, cutting down anyone who breached the threshold.
Andrea's world narrowed to the scent of cordite, the burn of gunpowder on her tongue, the slick heat of sweat at her temples. She moved with instinct—low, sharp, efficient. Knife in her left hand, pistol in her right.
One masked man lunged at her. She sidestepped, drove her blade up under his ribcage, and twisted. He crumpled. Another raised his weapon, but Eunwoo was faster, his gun snapping up with mechanical precision—one shot, clean through the visor.
They worked together without words, their movements syncing like they had been choreographed.
But then—pain.
A bullet grazed Andrea's shoulder, hot fire tearing through flesh. She hissed, stumbling back against the sofa.
Eunwoo was on her in an instant, his hand grabbing her arm, eyes dark and sharp. His accent thickened with the force of his words."You hit."
"It's nothing," she snapped, shoving him off, gritting her teeth.
He leaned closer, gaze fierce. "Not nothing."
Even with bullets flying, even with death in the room, the air between them thickened. Andrea's breath hitched, the heat in her chest almost worse than the burn of her wound.
Then Minjoon's voice cracked through the comms. "Perimeter's secure. But we've got a bigger problem."
Andrea forced herself to focus. "Meaning what?"
Minjoon's tone turned grim. "They had intel. Exact layout of the villa. And something else… a map. Underground."
Eunwoo's jaw clenched tight. His gun lowered slightly, but his eyes never left Andrea's. "Then we already behind."
The room quieted into silence, broken only by the drip of rain through the shattered windows. The floor was slick with water, blood, and shards of crystal.
Andrea wiped her blade on the sleeve of a fallen man, her lips pressed into a thin line. She hated the way Eunwoo was still watching her—like her wound mattered more to him than the bodies on the floor.
"Don't," she warned, standing tall despite the pain.
He tilted his head, smirk faint but unshaken. "One day. You say yes. You see."
Andrea's grip tightened on her pistol. "One day, you'll shut up."
But her heart betrayed her again, thudding too loud, too fast.
And when Eunwoo turned to lead them toward the hidden stairwell beneath the villa—Andrea followed.
Not because he ordered it.
Because she wanted to.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── 💖 ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
Gunfire thundered in the villa, echoing off the marble walls. Andrea hissed as the graze along her shoulder burned hot, blood soaking quickly through her shirt. She pressed her palm against it, but the warmth spilling between her fingers only made her jaw clench tighter.
"Are you—" Eunwoo's voice snapped through the commotion, rough with his Korean lilt. His eyes locked on the crimson spreading down her arm. "Andrea!"
He didn't wait for her answer. Something inside him snapped. His focus sharpened into lethal clarity.
The men still inside never stood a chance. Eunwoo moved like a storm—every pull of his trigger precise, every step merciless. Bullets cracked, bodies dropped. He didn't just kill; he executed, rage driving his aim steadier than ever.
Minjoon cursed under his breath as he tried to keep up. "Hell—he's not even missing."
Layla ducked behind a sofa, firing into the last intruder slipping through the window. She shouted over the comms, "Andrea, you're bleeding!"
That single word—bleeding—sent Eunwoo faster, harsher. He shot two more men clean in the head before Minjoon even raised his rifle. Then silence fell.
Smoke curled in the wrecked dining hall. The floor was littered with broken glass, bullet casings, and bodies. Eunwoo's chest rose and fell hard, gun still steady, eyes locked only on Andrea.
He was at her side in seconds, shoving his weapon back into its holster. His hands went to her shoulder, ignoring the blood staining his fingers. His voice was lower now, urgent, but still sharp. "It only… graze. Just a little." He paused, seeing the red soaking her sleeve. His jaw tightened. "Not little. Not for me."
Andrea tried to brush him off, stubborn as ever. "I've had worse—"
"No." His tone cut through her protest like steel. "We leaving. Now."
Behind them, Layla slung her rifle over her shoulder. "We can't move her like that. She needs treatment first."
"I'll do," Eunwoo snapped. His command brooked no argument.
Without hesitation, he bent down and scooped Andrea into his arms. She stiffened, glaring at him. "What the hell are you—"
"Quiet," he ordered. "You safe with me."
Her retort died on her tongue as she caught the look in his eyes—fury wrapped tight around something else, something she didn't dare name.
He turned toward the hall, his grip on her unyielding. Over his shoulder, his voice rang out with cold authority. "Minjoon. Pack. All. Clean bodies. Now."
Minjoon gave a short nod, already moving to obey.
Layla watched Eunwoo carry Andrea up the stairs, Andrea's head resting awkwardly against his chest as she muttered under her breath. A crooked smile touched Layla's lips.
"Did you see that?" she asked quietly.
Minjoon glanced at her, arching a brow as he dragged one of the corpses toward the wall. "Yeah. Something like… love. Or care. Maybe fear."
Layla gave a short laugh, kicking the severed hand of a dead intruder out of her way. "Tch. Idiots ruined my vacation."
But her gaze lingered on the stairwell, on the way Eunwoo hadn't once let go of Andrea.
.✦.━━━✦.━━━✦.━━━✦.💫.✦.━━━✦.━━━✦.━━━✦.✦.
The door to Andrea's room slammed shut behind them. Eunwoo kicked it closed with his heel, not even looking back as he carried her across the floor. His boots left faint streaks of rainwater on the wooden boards, his breathing still harsh from the fight.
He lowered her onto the bed carefully, as though she were fragile glass and not the same woman who had just taken down three armed men. His hand lingered against her back, steadying her before pulling away.
Andrea leaned back against the pillows, her shoulder aching but her expression sharp as always. "I told you," she muttered, voice hoarse, "it's just a scratch."
"You need bandages," Eunwoo said immediately, ignoring her words. His accent wrapped tightly around the English syllables, clipped and hard, as though each one weighed more than it should. He turned, already scanning the room. "First aid… medicine. Where?"
Andrea let out a breath and shook her head. "I'm fine."
"No," Eunwoo snapped, spinning back toward her. His voice cracked like a gunshot in the small room, deeper, rougher than usual. "You not fine. You bleeding. You—" He cut himself off, chest rising and falling as though his own anger shocked him. Then, quieter but no less fierce: "You not fine."
For a long second, silence stretched between them. The sound of the rain tapping against the window filled the space, softer now, like it was listening.
Andrea's lips twitched. She'd seen him command men, seen him kill without flinching, seen his face blank and cold through storms of blood. But this? The way his jaw clenched, the way his hands flexed like he didn't know whether to grab her or the walls—this was different.
"Boss," she said lightly, though her tone softened at the edges. "I'm fine."
He froze at the word, his head tilting just slightly. Then he shook it off and moved toward the small dresser, yanking drawers open as though they might magically reveal bandages. His shoulders were tight, broad frame filling the room with tension.
.⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆｡˚✧｡⋆.💜.⋆｡˚✧｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆｡⋆.
Andrea watched him for a moment, then sighed. Her palm pressed lightly to her shoulder, and heat spread under her skin. The wound, shallow as it was, knit itself back together, her cells repairing faster than any medicine could hope for. By the time she flexed her arm, the only trace left was the shredded cloth of her shirt.
"Eunwoo," she called, testing his name on her tongue for the first time.
He stilled instantly, head snapping toward her. It wasn't "boss." Not leader. Just… him.
Andrea lifted her hand, rotated her shoulder smoothly, then tugged the collar of her shirt aside to show unbroken skin. "Look."
For a moment, his eyes didn't move. Then they widened, disbelief breaking through his usual mask. He crossed the room in two strides, catching her wrist before she could drop her hand. His thumb brushed over her unmarked skin, slow, almost reverent.
"How…?" His voice cracked low, almost whisper. "How you…?"
Andrea's lips curved in the faintest smile. "Perks of being me."
She expected him to argue, demand answers, press until she gave something away. But he didn't. Instead, his breath shook out in a rush, and before she could react, his arms wrapped around her.
The motion was sudden, almost desperate. His strength pressed against her back, his face burying against her hair as though he needed to make sure she was real, alive, whole. Andrea's eyes widened, her hands frozen mid-air.
"Eunwoo—"
"Shh." His voice was rough, broken through the low hush. She could feel it more than hear it, the vibration against her ear. "Just… one moment."
She didn't move. Couldn't. The heat of his chest seeped through her damp clothes, the solid weight of his arms holding her tighter than she expected from someone who always seemed made of control and restraint.
His breath came steadier now, easing into a rhythm. His hand slid down her arm until his fingers curled around her wrist, thumb brushing once, twice, like he was memorizing her pulse.
Andrea's lips parted, but no words came. She only felt the pressure in her chest, strange and unfamiliar.
After a long silence, she spoke, trying to break the intensity. "I told you I was fine."
Eunwoo finally leaned back just enough to see her face. His eyes, dark and unreadable, softened with something she couldn't name. His fingers brushed a strand of wet hair from her cheek.
"You…" he murmured, voice calm now, almost teasing. "You fine, yes. But… you also cat."
Andrea blinked. "What?"
A low chuckle slipped from his chest, the sound rare, unpolished. "Big black cat. Always pretend strong. Always claws."
Despite herself, Andrea felt her mouth twitch. "A cat, huh?"
He nodded once, the corner of his mouth tugging upward. "Dangerous cat. But… mine to guard."
Andrea's breath caught, though she masked it quickly with a scoff. "You're ridiculous."
"Yes," he said simply, like it didn't matter whether she believed him. His thumb lingered against the back of her hand, tracing a small circle before he finally pulled away.
Andrea straightened, clearing her throat. "You can leave now."
⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰
Eunwoo's face shifted — not the cold command of their missions, not the sharp edge of a leader — but something unguarded. For the first time since entering the room, relief softened his features. His shoulders eased, his jaw unclenched, as though just seeing her alive and healed let him breathe again.
He turned halfway toward the door, then stopped. His voice was low, awkward, almost gruff. "Okay… you fine. But…" He looked back at her, eyes narrowing slightly. "Don't show that… healing thing. Not to Layla. Not to anyone."
Andrea arched a brow. "Why? You afraid they'll freak out?"
"No," Eunwoo said quickly, shaking his head. "Not afraid. Just… some things, better keep. Yours. Understand?"
She studied him for a long second, then gave a slow nod. "…Yeah." Her voice was quieter this time, softer. She broke the tension with a small laugh, stepping back from the hug they'd nearly fallen into. "Fine. Secret's safe."
There was silence for a beat, then Andrea tilted her head. "So… are we okay?"
Eunwoo blinked, as if the question unsettled him more than the fight they'd just survived. His lips parted, and then he said, blunt and without hesitation, "Okay. Get ready."
Andrea frowned. "Get ready for what?"
He hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck, then ruffled her hair suddenly, as if to hide the way his ears had gone faintly red. "Engagement."
Her eyes went wide. "Engagement? Whose engagement?"
"Ours," Eunwoo said, smirking despite himself. "Hotshot."
Andrea froze, staring at him. The word hit differently this time — not just a teasing name from battle, but heavy with something else. Her lips curved slowly, dangerously. "…Am I hot?"
Eunwoo's smirk faltered, his accent thicker when he muttered, "Yeah… hot."
A silence stretched, electric. Then Andrea broke it with a sharp exhale, shaking her head. "You should leave now, before you say something even dumber."
Eunwoo only chuckled under his breath, stepping back toward the door. "Too late."
When the door shut behind him, Andrea stood there, staring at the empty space he'd left, her heart pounding harder than it had when the bullets were flying.