Lines Crossed

Oliver couldn't stop replaying the events of the night in his mind. Every word spoken in that meeting, every glance between him and Alexei, felt like another step down a dangerous path. But it wasn't just the threats from Alexei's world that haunted him—it was Alexei himself.

The next morning, Oliver sat by the window of his apartment, watching the rain drizzle down in thin sheets. His mind was torn between the logical part that screamed for him to cut ties with Alexei and the deeper, more primal instinct that kept pulling him back.

There was a knock at his door.

For a split second, he tensed, wondering if it would be Alexei again. His body, despite his better judgment, felt a surge of anticipation. But when he opened the door, it wasn't Alexei. It was a courier, delivering a small package.

"Delivery for Mr. Hayes," the man said, handing over a simple, nondescript box.

"Thanks," Oliver muttered, signing for it.

He placed the box on the kitchen table, suspicious. It had no markings, no return address. Something about it felt off. But before he could second-guess his instincts, he carefully opened it.

Inside was a burner phone. Its screen lit up the second he picked it up, displaying a single message: *Meet me. Now.*

It had to be Alexei. Only he would send something so cryptic and expect Oliver to drop everything to come to him. Against his better judgment, Oliver grabbed his coat and left.

---

The meeting point was an abandoned warehouse, typical for Alexei's world—dimly lit, surrounded by shadows, and empty except for a few parked cars. Oliver stepped inside, the air heavy with the smell of dust and oil.

Alexei was there, waiting, leaning against a rusted beam, his posture relaxed, but his expression all business. The dim light highlighted the sharp angles of his face, casting a dangerous allure that made it hard for Oliver to tear his eyes away.

"I thought we'd agreed to no more cryptic messages," Oliver said dryly, closing the door behind him.

Alexei smirked, his eyes flicking over Oliver. "This is important."

Oliver folded his arms. "More important than last night?"

Alexei's face darkened, his tone lowering. "The deal went through, but there's been fallout. We're not out of danger yet."

Oliver's pulse quickened. "What kind of fallout?"

"Someone wasn't happy about how things ended. We have a tail on us—likely hired guns. They want blood." Alexei's eyes softened slightly as he looked at Oliver. "You need to be careful."

"So you dragged me here to tell me I'm in danger?" Oliver scoffed, trying to ignore the rising anxiety in his chest. "What's the plan? We just sit around waiting to be hunted?"

Alexei straightened, walking slowly toward him, his eyes never leaving Oliver's. "No, we're going to handle it. Together."

The proximity sent a jolt through Oliver, the tension between them crackling in the air. "Why are you doing this, Alexei? Why involve me so deeply? You could've handled this without me."

Alexei paused, his expression unreadable. For a moment, it seemed like he was going to shrug it off with his usual arrogance, but then something shifted in his eyes. He stepped closer, close enough that Oliver could feel the warmth of his breath. "You know why."

Oliver's heart pounded in his chest. The space between them was charged, every unspoken word heavy with implications neither of them were ready to voice. But Oliver had always been the one to push—always needing answers, needing clarity.

"No, Alexei, I don't," Oliver said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Tell me."

The tension between them had been building for weeks, ever since their explosive first meeting, through every argument, every moment of danger. Now, standing this close, with the looming threat of death outside, the air was thick with something unnameable.

Alexei's eyes flickered, torn between restraint and desire. For the first time, the mask he always wore cracked. "Because I can't let you go."

Oliver swallowed hard, his throat dry. There it was, the truth he'd been avoiding, the truth they both had been avoiding. It was terrifying, exhilarating, and undeniable.

"I don't know if I can trust you," Oliver said, his voice shaking with the weight of the admission.

"I don't need you to trust me right now," Alexei replied, his voice low and rough. "I need you to stay alive."

There was no time to respond before Alexei closed the distance between them, his lips crashing against Oliver's with a fierce, almost desperate intensity. The kiss was rough, electric—years of tension and frustration pouring out in a single moment. Oliver's hands gripped Alexei's jacket as if anchoring himself to the only solid thing in a world that had suddenly shifted on its axis.

For a moment, everything else disappeared—the danger, the betrayals, the uncertainty. All that mattered was this—this pull, this undeniable connection between them that had been simmering beneath the surface for far too long.

But the moment was fleeting.

Alexei pulled back, his breath heavy, his forehead resting against Oliver's. "This doesn't change anything. We're still in danger."

Oliver exhaled shakily, his head spinning. "No, it changes everything."

And deep down, they both knew it.