Hey folks! Apologies for the slightly long wait time, had a slight crisis on how I wanted to approach this particular section of the story. Given that we don't know much of Diane's Crimson Paw past, I did my best to portray how she would act in this type of scenario with a law enforcement boyfriend (since she's always paired with Wolf). I hope you folks enjoy this one. As always, thank you folks for constantly tuning in , it's always awesome to see people enjoy the storytelling.

The drive back was suffocating in its silence, broken only by Diane's soft sobs. Each one stabbed at Marcus, making the weight of his words heavier. He had gone too far, helplessly watching her crumble before him.

As soon as they arrived, Diane got out of the car without a word. She didn't look at him, her face downcast and streaked with tears. She rushed toward the door, her pace hurried, as if she couldn't get away fast enough. Marcus scrambled after her, desperate to fix what he had broken.

"Diane, wait!" Marcus's voice cracked, laden with regret, but she moved faster, her hands trembling as she fumbled with the door. She entered without a glance, her movements almost mechanical as she headed for the kitchen.

She didn't glance back, didn't speak as she went to the microwave and began punching in a sequence of buttons. Marcus stood there, bewildered and frustrated, unsure of what she was doing.

"Diane?" he asked, his confusion deepening.

Without warning, a sterile voice broke the silence: "Identity verified. Welcome, Diane."

Marcus froze, his breath catching as the fridge slid aside, revealing… an elevator? Hidden behind the walls? His heart pounded. What the hell was this?

Diane stepped inside, arms crossed, avoiding his gaze. The elevator was small, the space between them suffocating as Marcus followed her in. The tension hung heavy, and Marcus' mind raced as the elevator descended underground.

When the doors opened, Diane stepped out first, her movements slow, burdened by a weight Marcus couldn't yet comprehend. The room they entered was unlike anything he had ever seen—a high-tech lair, illuminated by soft, cold light. As they walked in, the walls shifted, revealing displays of military-grade equipment—zipline guns, tactical bows, night-vision gear. And two sleek, black suits with yellow stripes.

Marcus felt the ground shift beneath him. He recognized those suits. Crimson Paw.

Diane moved to the interactive table at the far end of the room, her back to him, her head hung low. Behind her, the Crimson Paw logo glowed ominously on the screen. She wiped her face, though the tears kept coming.

"I need to tell you everything," she finally whispered, her voice barely audible, fragile under the weight of her confession.

Marcus' heart pounded in his chest, his mind reeling as the pieces began to fall into place. He stared at her, speechless, waiting.

Diane pressed a button on the table, and a compartment slid open, revealing her Crimson Paw suit. The infamous suit he'd only heard about in case files and reports. This can't be real.

"I've been lying to you," she said, her voice breaking. "About who I was."

Marcus felt a lump form in his throat. The silence between them grew heavier, the truth looming over them like a storm.

"For years, I was the Crimson Paw. The heists, the thrill of always being one step ahead—I lived for it. They called me a 'tricky fox,' expected me to outsmart everyone, and I leaned into it. It was easier to live up to the stereotype than to fight against it."

Diane took a shaky breath, her voice thick with emotion. "Every time someone looked at me and saw nothing but a sly thief, it hardened something inside me. I started to think, 'If this is all you see me as, then maybe it's all I am.' The more I lived that life, the more I felt… powerful. Invincible, even. It was intoxicating—feeling like I could do anything, escape anything, because I was smarter, faster, always one step ahead."

Her voice wavered as she continued. "But with every thrill, there was guilt. Every time I succeeded, I felt this… emptiness. Like I was winning a game that I didn't even want to be playing. I'd be standing on a rooftop, clutching whatever prize I'd taken, and there'd be this hollow ache in my chest that I couldn't shake. I tried to ignore it, told myself that it was just the cost of doing what I did, but the truth is… the more I stole, the more I felt like I was losing myself."

She looked up at Marcus, her eyes raw with pain. "And then, during a heist for the Golden Dolphin… I saw myself in a mirror, and for the first time, I didn't recognize the person staring back at me. I didn't see a daring mastermind or some legendary thief. I saw someone who had become exactly what the world said she would be. Someone who had let society dictate who she was. A stranger."

Diane's voice broke, and she wiped at her eyes, though the tears kept falling. "I hated that reflection. I hated that I had let the world push me into this role, that I was playing the part they'd written for me all along. It wasn't just about the money or the adrenaline… it was about proving them wrong. But I'd lost sight of who I was even trying to prove it to."

She swallowed hard, her next words trembling. "So I walked away. I knew I couldn't keep living like that. I wanted to be more than the Crimson Paw. I wanted to find out who I could be when I wasn't running or hiding. That's why I became governor. It wasn't just to change my life—it was to atone for everything I'd done. I thought if I could do some good… maybe I could finally forgive myself."

A bitter laugh escaped her as she met Marcus's gaze. "But I didn't tell you, because I was ashamed. I kept thinking, 'What if you look at me the way everyone else did? What if you see nothing but a criminal?' There were so many times I wanted to tell you, Marcus. So many times I almost did. But then I'd look at you, and the thought of losing you… I just couldn't. I was scared that if you knew the truth, you'd never be able to love me again."

Her voice softened, becoming almost a whisper. "I've been carrying this for so long… lying to you, lying to myself. And every day it's felt like it's been tearing me apart. But I didn't know how to tell you. I didn't want you to see me as that person, because I'm not that person anymore. I'm Diane. I'm just… me."

She took a step closer, her eyes shimmering with desperation. "I became governor to prove to myself that I could change, that I could be better. But it wasn't until I met you that I realized… I wasn't just trying to change for me. I was changing because of you. Because you made me want to be better. You made me believe that I could be."

Her tears fell freely now, her voice breaking under the weight of her confession. "I'm so sorry, Marcus. I'm sorry I didn't trust you with the truth. I was scared that if I told you who I used to be… I'd lose the one person who makes me feel like I don't have to hide."

She choked back a sob, her hands trembling as she extended them toward him. "But if you can't forgive me, if all you can see now is the Crimson Paw… then I understand. If you can't love me after this, then… I'll turn myself in. I'll face whatever consequences I have to, because losing you… would be worse than any punishment."

Her tears fell freely now, her hands still outstretched, offering herself up to him. It was as if she was surrendering her soul, laying bare the most broken, fragile part of herself for him to judge. The Crimson Paw, the criminal mastermind, was gone. All that was left was Diane—vulnerable, shattered, standing on the edge of losing everything.

Marcus stood frozen, torn between the two most powerful forces in his life—his duty and his love for her. His heart hammered in his chest as his hand instinctively brushed the handcuffs on his belt. His mind was a chaotic storm, bombarding him with the oaths he'd taken, the sacrifices he'd made to uphold the law. This was who he was—a protector, a guardian of justice. And she had broken that trust. She had lied. She had played a role in the very chaos he had sworn to prevent. He should be furious. He was furious. Part of him demanded that he fulfill his duty, that he make her answer for her past.

The fury he thought was directed at her twisted into something else. He wasn't angry at Diane, not anymore. It was the system—the world—that had cornered her, forced her into this impossible place. He had sworn to protect the law, but maybe it was the law that had failed her.

He saw her trembling hands, extended toward him in surrender. The tear-streaked face of the woman he loved, breaking apart before his eyes. Her voice echoed in his ears—fragile, full of regret and fear. "I'm so sorry." The words cut deeper than any crime she had committed. They tore at him, unraveling every rational thought that told him to bring her in.

His hand hovered over the cuffs, his fingers curling around the metal as he fought to silence the pounding voice of duty screaming in his mind. He could already hear the voices of his fellow agents, the condemnation that would follow if he let her go. He imagined the fallout, the endless questions, the way his career might crumble if it came out that he'd chosen her over justice. Could he live with that?

But then, another image burned into his mind: a life without her. The emptiness of days without Diane's laughter, without her warmth beside him, without the woman who had stirred something in him he hadn't felt in years—a sense of purpose, not just as a protector, but as a man who loved deeply. That thought clawed at him, squeezed his heart until it was hard to breathe. He realized that losing her would destroy him far more than any breach of protocol ever could.

He tried to cling to his training, the rigidity of rules and regulations. But louder than the voice of duty was the voice that told him to fight—for her, for them. It roared over the chaos, drowning out every ounce of sense that demanded he see her as a criminal, and not as the woman he loved. She's worth it. That was what his heart insisted. She's worth breaking the rules for. She's the one you fight for. Not the law. Her.

His fingers slipped from the handcuffs, his breath trembling as he made the hardest decision of his life.

With a deep exhale, Marcus silenced every other thought, every doubt, and moved toward Diane. Her tear-filled eyes widened as she watched him approach. She braced herself, closing her eyes, expecting the cold grip of handcuffs or a harsh reprimand. She'd prepared herself for that pain.

But it didn't come.

Instead, she felt his warmth. Strong arms wrapped around her, pulling her close with a tenderness that took her by surprise. Her eyes flew open, startled, and her breath hitched as she realized what was happening. He wasn't turning her in. He wasn't condemning her or walking away. He was holding her, choosing her. In that embrace, she felt a fierce protectiveness, a love that said he would shield her from everything—even the weight of her own past.

Marcus held her tightly, his breath calm and steady despite the turmoil inside him. His heart raced against hers, but his touch was grounding, keeping her anchored in the moment. He leaned back slightly, just enough to look down at her, and when Diane met his gaze, she saw a mix of emotions flickering in his eyes—love, anguish, and deep regret.

"I'm not going to arrest you," he whispered, his voice rough but certain. "Because I can't lose you. I can't—because I love you too damn much."

A sob broke from Diane, and she collapsed into his chest, clinging to him as if he were the only thing keeping her from falling apart. "I'm so sorry," she managed to say, her voice muffled against him. "I'm sorry for hiding this. For keeping it from you. I never wanted to hurt you, Marcus. I was just… so scared."

Marcus rested his chin on top of her head, his arms tightening around her protectively. "I know, Diane," he murmured, his voice heavy with guilt and tenderness. "I shouldn't have pushed you like that. I was angry, and I let my doubts get the better of me. I didn't trust you when I should have. I was too hard on you, and… I'm sorry for that. I should've been there for you, not against you."

Diane pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, her face streaked with tears. There was a flicker of hope in her gaze, but also a vulnerability that laid her heart bare. "I was scared you wouldn't love me if you knew the truth," she confessed, her voice trembling. "I thought I'd lose you. I didn't want to be… I didn't want to be that person anymore. But with you, everything felt real. You made me feel like I didn't have to hide."

Marcus reached up, gently wiping her tears away with his thumb. "I love you, Diane," he said, his voice deep and unwavering. "All of you. Your past, your flaws, everything that makes you who you are. You're not the Crimson Paw anymore. You're Diane—the woman who's been fighting to be better, to make a difference. That's the woman I fell in love with, and nothing about that has changed."

A tearful smile broke through the sadness on Diane's face, and she felt lighter than she had in what felt like forever. "You really mean that?" she whispered, her voice laced with hope.

"I do," Marcus replied, "We all have pasts. We've all made mistakes. But you've fought harder than anyone to change—to be better. And that's what matters most to me."

A soft, relieved laugh escaped her as she leaned into him again, letting the comfort of his embrace wash over her. "You don't know how much I needed to hear that," she breathed, her voice quivering with gratitude.

For a long moment, they simply held each other, letting the outside world disappear. The room was quiet, save for the sound of their breathing and the stable rhythm of their hearts. Marcus's hand brushed away a lingering tear on Diane's cheek, and a faint grin began to form on his lips.

"Besides," he murmured, his voice slipping into a teasing tone, "I guess I've always had a thing for bad girls. Who knew the 'FBI agent falls for the reformed master thief' story would end up being my life?"

Diane blinked, taken aback by the sudden shift, then let out a disbelieving laugh. "You're joking about this now?" she said, her tone caught somewhere between amusement and exasperation. "You really have the worst timing, you know that?"

Marcus shrugged, the tension between them finally starting to loosen. "Well, I've got to hand it to you," he said, a teasing glint in his eyes. "Not every day you find out your girlfriend used to be the most notorious thief in the state. You sure know how to keep a guy on his toes."

Diane's lips curved into a smirk, the warmth returning to her eyes. "Oh, you think you're the one who's been kept on his toes?" she shot back, her voice laced with playful challenge. "I'd say I've done a pretty good job of staying one step ahead of you."

"Is that right?" Marcus leaned in, his grin widening as mischief danced in his gaze. "Because from where I'm standing, I've been the one watching your back all this time. Looks like I've been catching you off guard more often than you thought."

Diane rolled her eyes, but the fondness in her expression was undeniable. "You think you're so clever, don't you?" she said, shaking her head.

"Maybe." Marcus tilted his head, his smile softening as he met her gaze. "But admit it—you like having me around to keep you in check. Somebody's got to keep you out of trouble."

Diane gave him a light shove. "You've got some nerve," she whispered, her tone dropping to a playful lilt, "thinking you can keep up with the legendary Crimson Paw."

Before Marcus could respond, she grabbed him by the collar and pulled him into a deep, passionate kiss. He returned it without hesitation, his hands slipping to her waist, pulling her closer. The kiss was intense and raw, charged with all the emotions they'd held back—love, relief, and a desperate need that had only grown stronger. In that moment, the world outside didn't matter. It was just them and the fire that refused to burn out.

When they finally pulled away, their foreheads rested together, breath mingling as they tried to catch it. The silence between them buzzed with everything unspoken, heavy with the weight of what had just been laid bare.

"I've always loved you," Diane whispered, her voice breaking but resolute. "From the moment I met you. I didn't want to admit it, but it's always been you, Marcus. No matter how much I tried to deny it."

Marcus's hand slid to cup her face, his touch steady, his gaze unflinching. "It'll always be you," he said, his voice raw with conviction. "I'd fight for you, bleed for you—tear the whole damn world apart if I had to."

A smile tugged at Diane's lips as she placed her hand over his heart, feeling the strength of his words echo through his chest. "Ride or die?" she asked, the challenge and fire in her eyes unmistakable.

"Ride or die," Marcus vowed, his voice firm and resolute. "To the end."

Later that evening, the living room was filled with a warm, dim glow, the bottle of wine nearly empty on the coffee table. Diane and Marcus sat close together on the sofa, the atmosphere relaxed and intimate as the tension from earlier gave way to quiet conversation. The hour was late, and the comforting haze of wine softened the edges of the world around them.

They'd fallen back into their usual rhythm, sharing stories and laughing over bits of office gossip, but it wasn't long before the conversation took a turn toward something Marcus had been curious about for a while.

"So," he began, leaning back with his glass in hand, "I've got to know—what was it really like being the Crimson Paw? I mean, I've read the case files, but I want to hear it from you." His gaze flickered with a playful glint. "I'm sure you've got a few stories that would make even the best action movie look tame."

Diane's eyes sparkled as a slow grin spread across her face. She took a sip of her wine and set the glass down, leaning forward slightly. "Well, if you're asking for my greatest hits, I guess we could start with the Feral Fang." Her tone turned conspiratorial, as if sharing a secret. "It's an ancient dagger—said to be cursed and worth millions. It was kept in a billionaire's private collection, and I couldn't resist."

She leaned back, her eyes twinkling with mischief as she continued. "The place was locked down tight, obviously. High-end surveillance, motion sensors, the whole works. So, I used an EMP gadget to disable the cameras temporarily—enough time to slip past without a trace. Then I deployed a little device I built to mimic the room's temperature and trick the thermal sensors into reading everything as normal." Diane's voice carried a hint of pride as she spoke about her gadgets. "Oh, and I had to dodge a whole grid of motion sensors. For that, I used these small magnetic decoys—basically ping-pong-sized metal balls that I threw across the floor to trigger the sensors, leading the guards on a wild goose chase."

Marcus's eyebrows shot up. "Magnetic decoys? Now that's clever. And the getaway?"

"Bold, of course," Diane replied with a smirk. "I left behind a fake version of the Feral Fang. It was convincing enough to buy me a few extra minutes while the alarms went off. I rappelled out through a skylight and left them scrambling. By the time they realized the switch, I was long gone."

Marcus shook his head in admiration, but Diane could see the gleam of anticipation in his eyes. "Okay, you've got me hooked. What about the Zumpango Diamond? I've heard stories, but I need to know the real deal."

Diane's grin widened. "Ah, the Zumpango. Now that one's a bit of a legend, even if I do say so myself. The first time I stole it, it was just business. Quick profit, simple grab and go. But the second time… well, let's just say I had a score to settle."

She leaned in closer, her voice lowering like she was letting him in on a secret. "After the authorities bought the diamond back from the black market, they locked it up with even tighter security—top-of-the-line IR lasers, pressure-sensitive display, the works. They thought they'd made it thief-proof. So, I took it as a personal challenge."

"Of course you did," Marcus said, his tone dry but amused.

Diane chuckled. "I accessed the museum's air ducts through the rooftop, making my way to a maintenance vent that sat right above the diamond's display. I had to hang upside down to even see it properly. For the lasers, I used a pair of high-tech goggles I'd customized myself. They had an IR filter that allowed me to see each beam clearly and a distance gauge for navigating through the maze. I had to maneuver my hand just right—millimeter by millimeter—to avoid setting off the alarm. One wrong move, and the whole place would've gone on lockdown."

Diane's smirk widened as she continued the story, her voice taking on a playful tone. "Once I had the diamond, I knew I couldn't resist making it a little more interesting. So, I let the police get close enough to think they had a chance. I allowed them to chase me across the rooftops, keeping just far enough ahead to make it look like they might catch me. It was all part of the plan, of course."

Marcus leaned forward, clearly intrigued. "You let them chase you? Why?"

She shrugged, a hint of mischief sparkling in her eyes. "It's not every day you get to play tag with the city's finest. And just when they thought they had me cornered, I gave them a little wave…" She mimicked a cheeky salute with her fingers, her smirk deepening. "Then, I jumped off the roof and activated the wing glider function built into my suit. Flew off into the night while they stood there with their jaws on the ground."

Marcus blinked, genuinely taken aback. "Wait, you had a built-in wing glider? And you just flew away like it was nothing?"

Diane chuckled, nodding. "Yeah. I may have engineered a few upgrades into my suit. The glider was one of my favorites—made the escapes a lot more fun."

Marcus shook his head slowly, still processing it. "Damn, Diane, you really were playing a whole different game."

Diane's smirk softened into a smile as her gaze drifted down to where the ring had once rested on her hand. "You'll definitely find this next part interesting," she says with a playful spark in her eyes. "That very Zumpango Diamond… it's the same ring Wolf stole from me at the Good Samaritan Awards."

Marcus's eyes widened in shock. "Wait, that was the Zumpango?" He stared at her, his mind racing. "The same ring you've worn ever since we met? That's one of the most expensive diamonds in the country, and you just wore it around like it was any other piece of jewelry?"

Diane nodded, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "I figured the safest place for a stolen diamond was right in plain sight. Besides, I kept it because I was sentimental," she admitted, her voice softening. "The Zumpango wasn't just a prize—it was a reminder of who I was, back in the glory days. Every time I looked at it, I'd think about those impossible heists, the thrill of outsmarting everyone. It was like a piece of the Crimson Paw I could still hold onto." She shrugged. "But when Wolf stole it, and I took it back, I realised it was time to let it go."

Marcus's brow furrowed, still not entirely understanding. "You mean when you tossed it back to him at Marmalade's place?" He paused, his confusion deepening. "Why give it back? That diamond's worth a fortune, and it clearly meant something to you. I mean, he didn't even know what it was, right?"

Diane's gaze grew serious as she met his eyes. "No, he didn't," she said quietly. "To him, it was just another ring. But I saw a little of myself in him. I know what it's like to be judged for your worst mistakes, to have people think you'll never be anything more than a criminal. And before you get any ideas," she added quickly, catching the look on Marcus's face, "no, not in that way. But our stories aren't all that different. We were both written off and underestimated, fighting to prove we could be something better."

She paused, her voice gaining a quiet strength. "When I gave Wolf the ring, it wasn't just about leaving my past behind. It was my way of telling him he didn't have to be defined by his mistakes—just like I wasn't. I wanted him to see that, like me, he could write a new story for himself. One where he's more than just another 'bad guy.'"

Marcus's lips curled into a small smile as he shook his head. "You really are one of a kind," he said. "Only you would steal a diamond twice and then turn it into life lesson."

Diane's smirk widened. ""What can I say? Leaving an impression is part of my charm," she replied, her tone laced with playful confidence. "It's not my fault if the line between a heist and a life lesson gets a little blurry."

Marcus let out a short laugh, shaking his head. "Just promise me one thing," he said, his eyes glinting with amusement. "If you ever get the urge to swipe something else, give me a heads-up next time."

Diane raised an eyebrow, her smirk turning mischievous. "And ruin the surprise? Where's the fun in that?"

The wine bottle dwindled as warmth filled the room, each laugh over office gossip making the world feel a little softer. Diane's glasses lay on the coffee table, her tie discarded beside Marcus's on the chair. His shirt was unbuttoned, revealing a sliver of chest, their suit jackets draped over dining chairs.

The conversation had taken some lighthearted turns. "So, Cynthia from accounting swears that the coffee machine has a vendetta against her," Diane said, her voice full of amusement. "It only gives her decaf. She's convinced it's personal."

Marcus chuckled, shaking his head. "And then there's Matthew from HR. Poor guy booked a retreat, only to realize he'd accidentally chosen a nudist colony," he said with a grin. "Some still remind him to 'embrace his natural self' every now and then."

Diane laughed, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she reached for her wine glass. "Oh, that's priceless," she said, shaking her head. "And here I thought I had embarrassing stories."

Their laughter faded into a comfortable silence before Diane, her curiosity piqued, asked, "I've never really asked before... what was training like for you as an operator?" She hesitated, then continued, "I mean, now that I've told you about my past, it feels fair to ask."

Marcus took a deep breath, his gaze turning thoughtful. "It was brutal," he said, his voice steady but laced with a hint of the old pain. "Hell Week was exactly what it sounds like—no sleep, constant physical and mental pressure, pushing you to your limits until you think you've got nothing left. Then you keep going. And that's just the beginning." He paused, his brow furrowing slightly. "Then came NOTS—New Operator Training School. It's where they really mold you. You're thrown into scenarios where failure isn't an option. They don't just break you down; they rebuild you into something stronger. But it's a process that changes you… permanently."

Diane's expression softened as she listened, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the rim of her wine glass. "It sounds... inhumane," she murmured. "And yet, you came through it. You're still standing."

He gave a small nod. "Barely," he admitted, a dry chuckle escaping. "But I did see it to the end. I won't lie—there were moments when I thought I wouldn't make it—moments when everyone else thought the same. I wasn't supposed to get this far. I was the kid who was never supposed to amount to anything, the one everyone doubted. Even before HRT, I had to fight for everything. And during Hell Week... I swear, there were days I could hear those voices in my head, telling me I'd never be enough. That I'd fail."

Diane's gaze remained fixed on him, a quiet understanding dawning in her eyes. She leaned forward slightly, her voice gentle. "I get that, you know. Fighting to prove yourself to a world that's already written you off." Her mind drifted back to her own past—the Crimson Paw's heists, the adrenaline of constantly outsmarting her pursuers. "In some ways," she continued, "your story isn't all that different from mine. I just... took a different route. "In some ways," she said softly, "we're not so different. I fought the system; you fit into it." She sighed, a hint of sadness in her voice. "I never really had to face operators like you, though. Police, sure. But not federal special ops. If I had, I probably wouldn't have been so successful."

Marcus raised an eyebrow, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Oh, I don't know about that. From what you've told me, you'd probably have found a way to slip right past us. You're not the kind of challenge most teams train for." There was no bitterness in his tone—only admiration.

"Maybe," Diane replied with a soft smile, "but I can't help but think how different things could have been if we'd met back then. We were on opposite sides of the law, yet we were both trying to prove something—fighting against what everyone expected us to be. I was a thief, you were a protector. Two people determined to be more than what the world decided for us."

Marcus's gaze softened, and he took a step closer to her, his voice low and steady. "I guess we were always running in parallel," he said thoughtfully. "We just never realized it until our paths finally crossed." He reached out and brushed a loose strand of hair from her face, his touch gentle. "Maybe it took us walking such different roads to find each other now."

Diane tilted her head, her eyes meeting his with a knowing glint. "Do you ever think... if we'd met back then, things would have turned out differently?" she asked, a hint of curiosity in her voice. "Or do you think we were always meant to find each other, no matter what?"

He gave her a lopsided smile, his gaze never wavering. "I think," he began slowly, his voice deepening with a quiet intensity, "that no matter when or where, I would've found you." He stepped closer, his eyes locked on hers. "Maybe I'd have been chasing you across rooftops, or you'd have stolen something so valuable I'd have followed you to the ends of the earth just to catch a glimpse of you. But I know, Diane…I would've recognized you," Marcus said, his voice low. "Even then. Beneath the mask, the adrenaline, the chaos." He stepped closer, eyes locked on hers. "I would've wanted you. Needed to protect you. Just like now."

Diane's breath hitched at the rawness of his words, feeling them seep under her skin and settle deep in her chest. Her heart raced as a slow, teasing smile crept across her face. "Wow, Marcus," she teased, her voice sultry. "I knew you were a romantic, but I didn't peg you as this lovestruck."

Marcus chuckled, but the look in his eyes was molten, his fingers trailing down the curve of her jaw, brushing against the pulse point on her neck. "You have no idea," he murmured, his voice husky. "You make me feel like I could burn the whole world down, just to keep you safe. Like I'd defy fate itself to keep you in my arms." He leaned in, his breath warm against her ear as he whispered, "You're the one I'd choose, over and over… in every lifetime."

The intensity of his words sent a delicious warmth coursing through her, and she let out a low, breathy laugh. "Oh, Marcus," she purred, leaning in close enough for her lips to brush against his ear. "Who knew you had such a way with words? I might start thinking you're trying to seduce me." Her fingers trailed down his chest, lingering just above his heart. "Or maybe you're just that hopelessly in love."

With a mischievous glint in her eye, she pulled back and grabbed the wine bottle. "Either way, you're definitely going to make this interesting," she added with a playful wink before lifting the bottle to her lips.

Marcus's eyes widened in mock horror, an amused chuckle escaping. "Diane, don't—" But she was already tilting the bottle back, chugging down the rest of the wine.

The wine had lowered her inhibitions, making Diane more daring than usual, but she knew exactly what she was doing. Her gaze locked on Marcus, a wicked smile spreading across her lips as she set the bottle down with a deliberate clink. It wobbled dangerously before tipping over with a hollow clink, but she didn't seem to notice—or care. Her focus had zeroed in entirely on Marcus. She moved toward him, crawling deliberately, her eyes gleaming with playful intent and an almost predatory glint.

Marcus watched her approach, his heart pounding harder with each inch she closed between them. "Diane..." he began, his voice gentle but layered with concern, "maybe we should slow down."

But Diane just smiled, her lips curving into a devilish grin as her hands slid across his chest, feeling the hard lines of muscle beneath his shirt. "Slow down?" she teased, her voice heavy with desire, a playful lilt in her tone. "Oh no, Marcus, I think we've been going slow for far too long."

Her fingers danced down his chest, tracing the hard ridges of his muscles. 'Mmm, all that training,' she purred, her voice dripping with teasing delight. 'These muscles were built to protect, weren't they? But right now… they're all mine to enjoy.' Her lips brushed his ear, warmth radiating with every word. 'And I plan on enjoying every inch.'"

Marcus's breath hitched, her words sending heat racing through him. Every touch, every teasing word was unraveling his control. "Diane," he murmured, trying to sound firm but faltering under the weight of her closeness. His pulse quickened, her breath hot against his neck, and despite himself, he shuddered.

Diane pressed closer, her lips brushing against his skin, igniting a fire that spread through his veins. "I want you," she whispered, her voice dripping with seductive mischief. "Right here. Right now."

His body screamed at him to give in, but Marcus fought for control, even as her lips skimmed his jaw, sending sparks through his body. "We should think about this," he managed, his voice tight, his hands instinctively grabbing her wrists to still her roaming fingers. But his resolve was weakening, his body betraying him with every touch she gave.

Diane wasn't having it. She slipped her hands lower, playfully tugging at the hem of his shirt. Her breath was like fire against his throat, sending shivers down his spine. "You know, I've been a very bad girl," she whispered, her voice low and laced with a teasing edge. "Stealing so many precious things for so long... maybe I deserve to be caught this time. Punished by a man like you." Her smirk widened, daring him to lose the fight he was barely holding onto.

Marcus's breath came in ragged gasps, his entire body taut with the effort of holding back. Every inch of him ached to pull her closer, to give in to the fire she was igniting inside him. His restraint was slipping, hanging by the thinnest of threads. "Diane, you don't..." he began, but his words faltered, her touch obliterating his defenses.

"Oh, but I do," she interrupted, her voice velvety and dripping with intent. Her hand grazed his belt, teasing at the buckle as she leaned in even closer, her lips brushing the shell of his ear. "Maybe it's time I learned what it feels like to be completely undone… by the man who's supposed to protect me." Her laugh was breathy, her lips ghosting over his skin, and it made his entire body tense with desire.

Marcus's breathing grew ragged as she pushed him further, her fingers lightly tracing the waistband of his pants, daring him to react. His grip tightened on her wrists, his mind battling between his instincts as an agent and the overwhelming pull of desire she was drawing out of him.

Her next words were the final strike: "Tell you what, Agent Lee," she whispered, her voice a sultry purr. "I'll let you use your handcuffs tonight."

She let the offer hang in the air for a moment, her eyes gleaming with mischief. Then, with a wicked grin, she leaned in, her lips grazing his ear as she murmured the last, devastating provocation.

"Break me."

In a flash, Marcus's last shred of control shattered. With a growl that was part frustration, part desire, he stood abruptly, reaching for her. His hands gripped her waist, pulling her up into his arms effortlessly. Diane let out a breathy, delighted laugh, her legs wrapping around him as their bodies pressed together, the heat between them igniting like a flame ready to engulf them.

Without a word, Marcus carried her toward the bedroom, his steps quick and purposeful, every movement filled with the intent to fulfill the promise in her whispered words.

No sexual stuff this time, up to your imagination :)