King’s grip was firm, as he forced Gun into the passenger seat, smming the door shut before making his way around to the driver’s side. Gun’s heart raced, but his body felt numb, his limbs heavy as he sank into the seat.

  King slid behind the wheel, his jaw clenched as he gnced at Gun, his eyes searching for something—anything—that could help him understand the storm swirling inside that stubborn head. But Gun wouldn’t look at him. He just stared out the window, his shoulders stiff, his face streaked with tears that sparkled under the dim streetlights.

  “Where are you off to?” His voice was low, edged with irritation but ced with concern. He needed answers, needed to know why Gun was so hell-bent on running away.

  Gun’s eyes flickered toward him, the light catching the tear tracks on his cheeks, but he didn’t respond. Instead, he looked away, his gaze fixed on the world outside, cold and distant, as if pretending he didn’t exist.

  A heavy sigh escaped King’s lips, his fingers drumming impatiently against the steering wheel. He turned the key, the engine roaring to life, vibrating through the tense silence. He looked around the empty parking lot, his eyes narrowing. “I never taught my people to let their boss drive,” he muttered, shaking his head.

  Gun’s hand trembled as he wiped his tears, his voice hollow as he finally spoke, “When I want to be left alone, they do as they’re told.” His hands tightened into fists on his p, his nails digging into his palms. “I know how to protect myself... I just wish someone taught me how to protect myself from you.”

  The words hit King like a punch to the gut, his chest tightening as the weight of his pain became undeniable. He cursed under his breath, gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white. With a sharp turn, he pulled the car over to the side of the road, the tires screeching as they came to an abrupt stop.

  He turned to Gun, his eyes bzing with frustration, his voice shaking. “Do you think this is easy for me? Do you think I don’t... feel anything?” His voice cracked, and for a brief second, the mask of cold indifference slipped, revealing the raw hurt underneath. “You think I don’t hate myself for everything that happened? For every fucking mistake I made?”

  Gun’s body stiffened, his eyes widening in shock as he finally looked at King, really looked at him. He saw the pain there, the regret buried beneath that arrogant smirk and cold gaze. But it only made it hurt more.

  Gun’s voice was cold, void of the warmth it once held. “Nothing you do can change what’s been done.” His words were final, cutting through the air like a bde, leaving no room for argument.

  King’s chest tightened, his heart aching as he stared at the man who once looked at him as if he hung the moon and stars. But now, Gun wouldn’t even look at him. Those eyes, once filled with admiration and trust, were distant, shadowed by pain and betrayal.

  Unfastening his seatbelt with a click, King moved without hesitation. Gun’s eyes widened as his seat suddenly reclined, the world tilting as he was forced back against the leather. His body tensed, his heart racing as he looked up at King, who hovered above him, a smirk pying on his lips.

  “What the hell are you doing?” he demanded, his voice sharp, his body tense beneath King’s.

  King’s eyes softened as he cupped Gun’s face, his touch gentle, his thumb brushing away a tear that Gun didn’t even realise had fallen. His face was so close, his breath warm against Gun’s skin as he whispered, “Yes, nothing can change the past... but I can always write the future. With me and you in it.”

  His words hung between them, heavy and electrifying, their faces so close that their lips almost touched. Gun’s heart pounded wildly, his breath hitching as King’s eyes bore into his, filled with a tenderness he had longed to see for so long.

  The air grew thick, charged with tension as King’s gaze dropped to Gun’s lips, his resolve crumbling. Slowly, achingly slow, he began to close the gap, his lips brushing ever so slightly against Gun’s.

  But just as the world seemed to stop, the shrill ring of a phone shattered the moment, piercing through the intimacy like a cruel reminder of reality.

  King’s body went stiff, his eyes fshing with frustration as he pulled back, his jaw tightening as he reached into his pocket. Gun’s breath came out in a shaky exhale, his heart still racing, his body tingling from King’s touch.

  King’s eyes lingered on him for a moment longer, his face etched with regret before he answered the call, his voice cold and detached. “What is it?”

  Gun watched him, his heart aching as the warmth faded from King’s face, repced by the hardened expression of a man who was never truly his. And just like that, the distance between them grew once more, leaving him to wonder if they would ever bridge that gap again.

  King rolled his eyes the moment he heard the whining voice on the other end of the line. Without warning, he sat down on Gun’s p, his weight pressing down right on Gun’s cock. Gun’s eyes widened, his body stiffening in shock as his mouth parted to protest, but no words came out.

  A wicked smirk pyed on King’s lips as he watched the surprise flicker across Gun’s face. His hips began to move slowly, rocking back and forth in a tantalising rhythm that sent shivers down Gun’s spine. Yet, King’s voice remained steady, his tone cold and detached as he spoke into the phone.

  “Didn’t I tell you to focus on your task?” His fingers traced a zy line down Gun’s neck, pressing just enough to feel his pulse race beneath his fingertips.

  A whiny, childish voice came through the phone, nearly squealing, “My money is finished, send me more!”

  Gun’s face hardened, his eyes narrowing as he listened to the voice. The realisation hit him like a punch to the gut. King’s eyes never left Gun’s, watching his expression change, satisfaction gleaming in his gaze. His hand continued its journey downward, tracing over Gun’s chest, feeling the rapid rise and fall of his breaths.

  “I gave you enough,” King drawled, his voice dripping with mock impatience. “Are you telling me you finished your monthly allowance already?”

  A dramatic sob came from the other end. “You don’t love me! I hate you! Do you want me to kill myself?”

  King’s eyes darkened, his jaw clenching. Without warning, he leaned down, his lips crashing against Gun’s in a searing, possessive kiss. Gun shuddered beneath him, a moan escaping before he could stop himself, his body betraying him even as his mind screamed at him to resist.

  Breaking the kiss, King’s lips brushed against Gun’s, his voice low and sultry as he whispered, “Fine. I’ll send the money. But leave me alone.”

  From the phone, the boy’s voice turned sweet, sickeningly so. “Thank you!”

  The call ended with a click, the cheerful tone of the boy’s voice echoing in Gun’s ears. His eyes burned with anger, humiliation creeping into his veins. He opened his mouth to speak, to demand answers, but King’s finger pressed against his lips, silencing him.

  King’s eyes gleamed with a dangerous amusement, his hips still rocking slowly, deliberately. “Don’t look at me like that, Gun,” he teased, his voice a low purr. “I warned you… nothing’s changed. You’re still mine.”

  Gun’s hands clenched into fists, his body trembling beneath King’s. Hate and desire twisted within him, leaving him feeling helpless, vulnerable. And King knew it. He always did.

  King tossed his phone into the backseat without a second thought, his eyes never leaving Gun’s. The device cttered against the leather, forgotten, as King closed the gap between them once more. His lips pressed against Gun’s, firm and demanding, as if trying to recim what was once his.

  Time seemed to slow down inside the car. The world outside faded away, leaving only the heat between them. King kissed him deeply, his hands cupping Gun’s face with a tenderness that contradicted his ruthless nature. To him, it felt like they were kissing for the first time all over again—raw, electrifying, unforgettable.

  Gun struggled beneath him, his body tense as his hands pushed against King’s chest. But his resistance was weak, faltering. King could feel the conflict, the anger and longing within Gun’s heart. He smirked against Gun’s lips, his teeth grazing just enough to send a shiver down his spine.

  And then, just as King expected, Gun’s resolve shattered. He melted into the kiss, his body rexing beneath his weight as his hands moved from pushing to clinging, fingers curling into King’s shirt, desperate and needy. Exactly how King remembered. Exactly how he wanted him.

  A victorious growl escaped King’s throat as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding against Gun’s, tasting the bitterness of betrayal and the sweetness of memories. It was intoxicating, addictive. He’d been denied this for too long.