The apartment is dim, just the soft golden glow from the kitchen counter light. Sienna's curled up on the couch, her phone in hand, hair still slightly damp from a shower. Her head snaps up the second she hears the lock click shut.

She sits up, her voice low but sharp. "You're late... again." I step in, shutting the door quietly, a faint metallic smell clinging to me. I drop my jacket over the chair, avoiding her eyes. "Don't worry about it, baby. Go back to bed."

Sienna stands, crossing her arms, watching me pull off my hoodie and grab cleaning wipes from under the sink. "Don't 'baby' me. I can smell trouble on you. And not the good kind." I glance over my shoulder with a small smirk. "That's not trouble. That's just... business."

I start wiping down my hands, my shoes, careful with every movement, every swipe of cloth against my skin. Sienna steps closer, her voice softer now. "You could tell me, you know... I'm not scared. I knew what I signed up for, baby." I meet her gaze, serious now.

"That's exactly why I don't tell you. You're not supposed to be scared. You're not supposed to worry, baby." Sienna's eyes search mine for a moment before she exhales, nodding slowly. She walks over, takes the wipes from my hand, and finishes cleaning the last traces off my knuckles without a word.

Sienna's fingers linger on my skin longer than necessary, wiping away the last faint streaks of blood. Her hands are warm, gentle — the opposite of the night I've just had. "I told you not to worry, baby," I say, my voice low. Sienna meets my eyes, steady but soft. "And I told you I can't help it."

I watch her for a beat, the way her jaw tightens like she's fighting not to push for details. She's learned — sometimes silence is the safest answer. She most likely won't like what I'd tell her anyway.

I toss the last used wipe into the trash, then take Sienna's wrist, pulling her closer. Her robe slips slightly, revealing the thin strap of her tank top underneath. Quietly, almost a whisper, I speak. "If something ever happens to me... you walk away. No questions. No looking back." Sienna starts shaking her head immediately. "Don't. Don't talk like that."

I deadpan her with a look. "I mean it, Sia." Her voice cracks slightly. "And I mean it when I say — if you go down, I'm going with you. That's what you signed up for when you put a ring on my finger."

I stare at her for a long second, a mix of frustration and pride in my chest. Then I lean in, pressing my forehead to hers. "You're gonna get me in trouble." Sienna smiles faintly. "Good. Someone's gotta keep up with you."

Her lips find mine — not rushed, not desperate, but slow and grounding. The kind of kiss that says she'll be there, no matter how many late nights I come home with blood on my hands that needs cleaning.