[Three months Later]

The warehouse set echoed with the sharp clang of metal props and the thud of bodies hitting padded floors.

"Action!"

Anna moved first.

A masked stuntman lunged toward her, but she ducked smoothly, spinning on her heel before driving her elbow straight into his chest. He staggered back dramatically—perhaps a little too dramatically—and collapsed onto a conveniently placed crate.

"Too easy," she muttered under her breath.

From the other side, her co-star—Ryder—took down two men in quick succession, flipping one over his shoulder and kicking the other squarely in the stomach.

"Show-off," Anna shot back, grabbing a prop rod and swinging it just in time to block another attack.

The choreography flowed seamlessly. Punch. Block. Kick. Spin.

At one point, Anna leapt onto a stack of boxes, using the height to launch herself into a clean mid-air kick that sent another attacker sprawling.

"Was that necessary?" Ryder called, ducking as she landed beside him.

"Absolutely," she replied, brushing imaginary dust off her shoulder.

They moved in sync now, backs nearly touching as they fought off the last wave of enemies.

"Three left," Ryder muttered.

"Make it two," Anna said, sweeping one off his feet.

"Overachiever."

Within seconds, the final stuntman dropped to the floor, groaning convincingly.

Silence followed.

The director’s voice didn’t come immediately.

Which meant—

They were still rolling.

Right on cue, Ryder turned toward her, slightly breathless, a smirk playing on his lips.

"That was impressive."

Anna tilted her head, raising a brow. "Try to keep up."

He stepped closer.

So did she.

The tension shifted—not from action, but from the scripted moment that followed.

The almost-kiss.

Ryder reached out, his hand hovering just near her face, eyes softening as he leaned in.

Anna didn’t move.

Professional.

Focused.

Totally aware of the camera angle.

But just as their faces drew closer—

Ryder froze.

Completely froze.

His expression changed.

Not romantic.

Not intense.

Terrified.

A visible shiver ran down his spine.

Anna blinked.

"...What?"

Ryder abruptly took a step back.

"Nope," he said, shaking his head slightly.

Anna stared at him, utterly confused.

"What do you mean nope?!" she whispered sharply.

He glanced past her.

And that’s when Anna felt it.

That... presence.

Slowly, she turned her head.

Daniel stood just beyond the camera line, arms crossed, his gaze locked onto Ryder with the intensity of someone mentally planning a funeral.

Not just any look.

A death stare.

Sharp. Cold. Lethal.

If looks could kill, Ryder would already be a framed photograph.

"Oh," Anna muttered under her breath.

Ryder cleared his throat nervously, stepping back another inch.

"Uh—director?" he called, his voice suddenly much louder than necessary. "Can we take five? Just... you know... to recalibrate."

"Recalibrate what?" the director frowned.

"My... uh... emotional alignment," Ryder said, wiping sweat off his forehead.

Anna crossed her arms, trying—and failing—not to laugh.

"Emotional alignment?" she repeated.

Ryder leaned slightly toward her, whispering urgently, "Why is he looking at me like I owe him money and my life?"

Anna smirked. "Because you’re about to kiss me."

"I’d rather fight ten more guys."

"You just did."

"I’d do it again."

From behind the camera—

Daniel didn’t move.

Didn’t blink.

Didn’t breathe, apparently.

Ryder swallowed.

"Is he always like this?"

"Only when he’s being... considerate," Anna replied sweetly.

"That’s considerate?!"

Before she could answer—

"Cut!"

The director finally stepped in, exasperated.

"Break! Five minutes!"

Ryder let out a breath of pure relief like he had just escaped a near-death experience.

Anna turned fully toward Daniel now, raising a brow.

He didn’t say anything.

Didn’t need to.

The message was clear.

Try it. I dare you.

Anna sighed, shaking her head.

Somewhere behind her, Ryder muttered, "I’m renegotiating my contract."

***

By the time Anna wrapped up her shoot, the set had begun to quiet down. Crew members moved around packing equipment, the earlier chaos of action sequences now replaced with tired chatter and relief.

Ryder, on the other hand, looked like a man who had narrowly escaped death.

The "almost kiss" scene?

It never happened.

The moment the cameras rolled, Ryder had smoothly—very smoothly—improvised.

Instead of leaning in, he had pulled Anna into a side hug, turning it into an emotional, "we survived this together" moment.

The director had blinked.

Paused.

Then surprisingly said, "...I like it. It feels more natural."

Ryder had almost dropped to his knees in gratitude.

Natural?

No.

Survival instinct.

Because just a few feet away, Daniel had been standing the entire time, arms crossed, his gaze sharp enough to slice through steel.

Ryder had no intention of testing his lifespan.

"Great work today!" someone called out as Anna stepped off set.

She smiled politely, stretching her shoulders slightly as she walked toward the exit.

And there he was.

Daniel.

Leaning casually against the car, as if he hadn’t been silently intimidating half the crew an hour ago.

Anna crossed her arms, stopping right in front of him.

"You stayed," she said, a hint of amusement in her tone.

Daniel’s gaze softened the moment it landed on her.

"Of course."

She tilted her head. "To watch the shoot?"

A pause.

"...Yes."

Anna’s lips twitched. "Or to make sure no one kissed me?"

Daniel didn’t respond immediately.

Which—was answer enough.

She let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. "You scared him, you know."

"He seemed fine," Daniel replied calmly.

"Fine?" Anna raised a brow. "He replaced a kiss with a side hug, Daniel."

"That was his choice."

"Mhm," she hummed, clearly unconvinced.

The ride home was quiet—but not uncomfortable.

There was something lingering in the air.

Unspoken.

By the time they reached home, Anna slipped off her heels with a sigh of relief, walking further inside while Daniel followed behind, his gaze never leaving her.

She could feel it.

Of course she could.

Anna turned suddenly, catching him mid-stare.

"What?" she asked, folding her arms again.

Daniel stepped closer.

Slowly.

Deliberately.

"You enjoyed that," he said.

Anna blinked innocently. "Enjoyed what?"

"The attention."

A small smirk appeared on her lips. "Oh... you mean Ryder?"

Daniel’s jaw tightened slightly.

Anna noticed.

Of course she did.

And she leaned into it.

"He’s quite charming," she added thoughtfully, tapping her chin as if considering it seriously.

That did it.

In a second, Daniel closed the distance between them, his hand gripping her wrist—not harshly, but firmly enough to pull her closer.

"Careful," he said quietly.

Anna looked up at him, completely unbothered.

"Or what?"

His other hand came up, resting lightly at her waist, drawing her even closer until there was barely any space left between them.

"Or I might start thinking you like making me jealous."

Her eyes sparkled with mischief.

"Maybe I do."

Daniel let out a soft, humorless chuckle.

"You shouldn’t."

"Why?" she challenged.

His gaze darkened slightly—not with anger, but something far more intense.

"Because," he said, his voice dropping, "you already know the answer."

Anna held his gaze.

"Say it," she murmured, almost teasing.

A beat of silence passed.

Then—

"You’re mine."

The words were low. Certain.

Not loud.

Not forceful.

But unwavering.

Anna’s breath hitched—just slightly.

Daniel’s fingers tightened subtly at her waist as he continued, his eyes never leaving hers.

"Your heart," he added, softer now but no less intense, "belongs to me."

His thumb brushed lightly against her wrist.

"And so do you."

There was no arrogance in his tone.

Only possession wrapped in quiet certainty.

Anna swallowed, but the teasing smile returned—though softer this time.

"You sound very confident."

"I am."

She leaned in just a fraction, her voice barely above a whisper.

"What if I say you’re wrong?"

Daniel didn’t hesitate.

"Then I’ll remind you," he said.

Anna’s heart skipped—just once.

Dangerous man.

She let out a quiet breath, shaking her head as if trying to brush off the effect he had on her.

"You’re impossible," she murmured.

"And you like that."

She didn’t deny it.

Instead, Anna gently placed her hand against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm beneath.

"Maybe," she admitted softly.

Daniel’s expression softened just enough, his forehead almost touching hers now.

"Next time," he said, "no improvisation."

Anna raised a brow. "Oh? So you did want the kiss scene to happen?"

His eyes narrowed slightly.

"Don’t push your luck."

She laughed—soft, warm, and completely unafraid.

And just like that—

The tension melted into something far more intimate.

Not loud.

Not overwhelming.

But real.