The Lions Den

The fire crackles between us, casting flickering shadows over the ruined walls of what used to be a convenience store. The smell of burning wood barely masks the lingering metallic tang of blood—mine, Jae's, something else's.

I should be resting, but my pulse is still racing from the fight. From the way Jae's hands had gripped my waist earlier, hauling me away from danger like I weighed nothing. From the way his voice had turned sharp, almost furious, when he told me to stay put.

I didn't. Obviously.

Jae sits across from me, sharpening his blade with slow, methodical strokes. His dark hair is damp with sweat, sticking to his forehead, and his shirt is torn at the shoulder, revealing a deep gash across his collarbone. A mark from tonight's close call.

I should thank him. I should say something.

Instead, I watch the firelight dance in his eyes, and something tightens in my chest.

I won't lie.

The words press against my lips, unspoken but heavy. I press them down, focus on the flames instead of him.

Jae notices. Of course he does.

"You've been quiet," he says, voice low. "Did something finally scare you, MJ?"

I scoff. "Please. I'm just enjoying the rare moment of peace before something tries to eat us again."

He smirks, but there's something unreadable in his gaze. Something dangerous.

"You fought well today," he says, turning his attention back to his blade. "Better than before."

"Yeah, well. I had a good teacher," I say, feeling the weight of his praise in my chest. "But don't think I didn't notice the way you threw yourself in front of me like some tragic hero. You trying to get yourself killed for me, Jae?"

He stops sharpening the blade. Looks up.

The air shifts.

"If I wasn't in this spiderweb of mine," I murmur, the words slipping out before I can stop them, "then you would be the love of my life."

The fire crackles. My own breath sounds too loud in my ears.

Jae's expression doesn't change, but his eyes—his damn eyes—flicker with something dangerous. Something I don't understand.

"And if I wasn't who I am," he says, voice smooth as silk, "I'd let you say that without questioning it."

His gaze drops to my lips for half a second. It's enough.

I swallow hard, suddenly too aware of how close we are. How the fire paints his sharp features in gold and shadow.

This is stupid.

I force out a laugh, shaking my head. "It's by design, you know. To run the jungle, I must be a lion." I tilt my head, eyes narrowing slightly. "Don't get too near. There's lions, beware."

His jaw tenses.

A slow, knowing smirk curves his lips. "MJ," he says, voice dipping lower. "I'm terrified you are the love of my life."

The words hit me like a physical force.

My throat goes dry. My pulse slams against my ribs.

Jae doesn't look away. Doesn't flinch. Just lets the weight of what he said settle between us like a blade waiting to be drawn.

I could laugh it off. Could tease him, twist the moment into something easy, something light.

But I don't.

Because for the first time in this godforsaken nightmare of a world, I feel like I'm standing at the edge of something real.

Something dangerous.

And I don't know if I should step forward—or run.