The trouble started with a sound Danny had never heard inside the mansion before — a gunshot.
It cracked through the afternoon air like lightning splitting wood.
Danny froze in the middle of the hallway, laundry basket tucked under one arm. Guards sprinted past him, shouting orders he couldn't understand.
Another shot.
Then three more.
His blood ran cold.
Before he could process the fear rising in his throat, Verdric's lieutenant—Hiro—appeared at the end of the hall, sword drawn, eyes sharp.
"Danny. With me. Now."
Danny's heart hammered. "What's happening? Where's Verdric?"
Hiro didn't answer. Instead, he pulled Danny behind him with one decisive tug.
The mansion, usually so composed and quiet, was chaos—guards running, doors slamming, the metallic clank of weapons being drawn.
Danny clutched his stomach protectively.
He had never realized how fragile peace was in this world.
How quickly it could shatter.
Hiro shoved Danny into a safe room and locked the door.
Danny pounded on it. "Please —what's going on? Verdric—"
A silent pause.
Then Hiro's voice, tight:
"The Arai syndicate breached the south gate. They want Verdric alive. They… do not care about casualties."
Danny's breath caught. "Verdric is fighting?"
"Of course," Hiro said. "He's the reason they won't get far."
Danny pressed a hand against his stomach.
The baby.
Verdric.
Fear tangled into something too big to swallow.
He whispered to himself, "Please… be okay."
Time twisted, stretched, suffocated.
Minutes felt like hours.
Then—
Quiet.
A terrifying, heavy quiet.
The door finally unlocked, and Hiro pushed it open.
"Come," he said, voice low.
Danny followed him down the stairs, fear crawling up his throat. When he reached the main hall, he froze.
Verdric stood in the center of the room—
coat torn, blood on his cheek, shirt streaked with soot and debris.
Alive.
Standing.
But injured.
Danny's knees gave out with relief.
Verdric turned and saw him.
Something in his face shifted—
not pain, not exhaustion—
but pure, unfiltered worry.
Danny rushed to him.
He didn't think about guards watching.
He didn't think about appearances.
He only cared that Verdric was breathing.
"Verdric!" Danny cried, hands trembling as they touched his arms. "Are you hurt? Where—where are you bleeding?"
Verdric caught Danny's wrists gently.
"It's not my blood."
Danny froze.
Verdric brushed a knuckle against Danny's cheek.
"I'm fine."
His voice was steady, but Danny could hear the strain beneath it.
Danny's gaze lowered to the tear in Verdric's shirt—skin scraped, faint bruise forming.
"Fine?" Danny whispered. "This isn't fine."
Verdric softened just enough for Danny to see it.
"You and the baby are safe. That is what matters."
Danny felt his breath tremble.
"Don't say it like that."
Verdric blinked. "Like what?"
"Like you only care about protecting us."
Danny's voice wavered.
"I care about you too!"
Silence.
Verdric's hands tightened around Danny's—almost imperceptibly.
Danny leaned his forehead into Verdric's chest.
He didn't care about who was watching.
He didn't care about propriety.
He just held him.
Verdric's breathing stilled—surprised, maybe even stunned.
Danny whispered, "I can't lose you."
Verdric's fingers slid into Danny's hair, pulling him close with a quiet sigh.
"You won't," he murmured. "I promise."
Danny believed him.
Even though promises made in blood are often the first to break.
___
Later that night, Danny sat on the bed while Verdric changed his shirt. Danny couldn't look away from the bruises blooming along Verdric's side.
"You should let the doctor see that," Danny said quietly.
"It's nothing."
Danny frowned. "You always say that."
Verdric looked over his shoulder.
"And you always worry."
"Because I care!"
Verdric paused—really paused.
Danny felt his cheeks heat.
He didn't mean to say it so loudly.
So honestly.
Verdric slowly faced him, shirt halfway on, expression unreadable.
"Come here," Verdric said softly.
Danny moved without thinking.
Verdric sat beside him on the edge of the bed.
His hand reached out — hesitating for once—and rested on Danny's thigh.
The touch was warm.
Grounding.
Too intimate.
Danny swallowed.
Verdric leaned close enough that Danny could feel the warmth of his breath along his neck.
"I am not used to someone caring whether I bleed," Verdric murmured.
Danny looked at him—really looked—and saw the truth in the lines of Verdric's face.
Loneliness.
Old wounds.
Pain buried and forgotten.
Danny lifted a hand and traced the bruise on Verdric's cheek with feather-light fingers.
Verdric inhaled sharply.
Danny whispered, "I care. A lot more than I should."
Verdric's eyes darkened.
His hand slid from Danny's thigh to his waist, pulling him just a little closer.
"Then stay close," Verdric said.
"Where I can reach you."
Danny's breath hitched.
And Verdric kissed him again—
slow, deep, deliberate—
like he needed to taste Danny just to prove he was still alive.
Danny melted into him completely.
This kiss wasn't about passion.
It was relief.
Fear.
Longing.
A quiet plea disguised in heat.
Verdric broke the kiss only when breathing became a necessity. His forehead rested against Danny's.
"You and the baby are my world now," Verdric whispered.
"I will end anyone who threatens you."
Danny felt something sharp and warm twist in his chest.
Not fear.
Not discomfort.
But the realization that this man —
this dangerous, powerful man—
was beginning to love him in a way he didn't know how to say.
And it terrified them both.