Delphine had never felt anything like this.
The weight of him.
Not physically—he hadn't touched her. Not really. Not yet.
But his presence wrapped around her like a storm, pressing against her skin, sinking into her bones. Unshakable. Unmovable.
His.
And the scariest part?
She wasn't fighting it anymore.
She was letting it happen.
Bumblebee's engine thrummed beneath her, a deep, steady vibration that settled into her chest.
His vents exhaled, slow and deliberate. His radio crackled—shifting, searching—until his voice filtered through, low and knowing.
"You're not running anymore."
Her stomach flipped.
She should have denied it. Should have pushed back, set a boundary, done something—anything—to stop this from unraveling.
But she didn't.
Because he was right.
She had stopped running.
And there was no turning back.
Delphine exhaled slowly, pressing her palm against the dashboard. "I don't know how to do this, Bee."
His engine purred. "I do."
Her breath caught.
Because he wasn't hesitant.
He wasn't questioning.
He was certain.
Like he had been waiting for this moment all along.
Her fingers curled against the seatbelt, heart hammering. "What happens now?"
Silence.
Then—
The seatbelt tightened.
Not enough to restrain.
Just enough to hold.
Her breath hitched.
Bumblebee's radio flickered, shifting through static before settling into something low, steady, undeniable.
"You let me have you."
Her stomach twisted.
Heat rushed through her, sharp and sudden.
Because this wasn't a game anymore.
This wasn't just teasing words and stolen glances.
This was real.
And she had a choice.
She could leave.
Or she could stay.
Her fingers tightened around the seatbelt, heart pounding.
She inhaled sharply, forcing herself to breathe. "Bee…"
His vents exhaled with her.
His engine thrummed.
His presence wrapped around her.
Waiting.
Watching.
Claiming.
Her lips parted—a breath away from surrender.
A breath away from breaking.
Then—
Her phone buzzed.
The sound shattered the moment, cutting through the thick tension like a blade.
Delphine jolted, blinking as if waking from a trance. She fumbled in her pocket, pulling out her phone and glancing at the screen.
Sam.
Her stomach sank.
Right.
There was still a war happening.
Still a world outside of this car.
She exhaled sharply, answering the call. "Yeah?"
Sam's voice was breathless, urgent. "Delphine! You need to get over here. Now."
Her brows furrowed. "What's going on?"
A crash sounded in the background, followed by Mikaela shouting.
Then—
A deep, inhuman growl.
Delphine's blood ran cold.
Decepticons.
She sat up straighter, gripping the phone tighter. "Where are you?"
Sam's breath hitched. "The old steel factory—north side of town. We're cornered."
A metallic screech tore through the speakers.
Delphine's stomach twisted. "Hang on. I'm coming."
She hung up, shoving her phone back into her pocket.
The second she turned back toward the dashboard, Bumblebee's engine roared.
His vents exhaled, his radio flickering with controlled, quiet fury.
His voice filtered through the speakers—low, dark, possessive.
"Hold on."
Then—
He moved.
The Road to War
Delphine had never gone this fast in her life.
Bumblebee's tires screamed against the pavement, his frame shifting, his speed doubling, tripling. The buildings around them blurred into streaks of light and shadow, the wind tearing at her hair as she gripped the seatbelt tight.
But she wasn't scared.
She was ready.
Because if Sam was in danger, if the Decepticons were closing in, if this was the fight she had been avoiding—
Then it was time to face it.
Bumblebee's radio crackled. "Stay with me."
She inhaled sharply. "I'm not going anywhere."
His engine growled—satisfied.
The city flashed past them as they barreled toward the steel factory, the scent of smoke and burning metal thick in the air.
And as they turned the final corner, Delphine's stomach dropped.
Because the factory was in flames.
And they were already too late.
The Battlefield
The second Bumblebee screeched to a halt, Delphine threw the door open and jumped out.
Her boots hit the pavement hard, her pulse pounding as she scanned the destruction around her.
The steel factory was half-collapsed, smoke curling into the sky. Fires burned along the wreckage, casting long, twisting shadows against the concrete.
And in the center of it all—
The fight.
Optimus Prime was locked in combat with a massive Decepticon, their metal bodies clashing with deafening force. Sparks flew as Optimus drove his blade into his opponent's side, but the Decepticon retaliated, slamming a fist into his chest and sending him crashing into the rubble.
Mikaela was crouched behind an overturned truck, gripping Sam's arm, her face streaked with dirt and sweat.
And behind them—
A Decepticon was closing in.
Delphine didn't think.
She moved.
She ran.
She wasn't a soldier. She wasn't trained for this.
But she didn't need to be.
She grabbed a metal pipe from the wreckage, sprinting toward the towering Decepticon, its red optics locked onto Sam and Mikaela.
The second it raised its arm to strike—
She swung.
The pipe slammed into the joint of its knee, metal screeching against metal. The Decepticon staggered, its balance shifting just enough to throw it off course.
Sam and Mikaela scrambled backward.
The Decepticon snarled, turning toward her instead.
Its optics flickered. It recognized her.
Her chest heaved.
Then—
A shadow fell over her.
And Bumblebee struck.
His frame lurched forward, his servos closing around the Decepticon's throat as he slammed it into the ground.
Metal shattered.
Sparks erupted as Bumblebee tore into his opponent with unrelenting fury.
Delphine stumbled back, her breath caught in her throat as she watched.
Because this wasn't the shy, hesitant Bumblebee she had met before.
This was something else.
Something primal.
Something feral.
And it was for her.
The Decepticon screamed.
Bumblebee growled—low, dangerous, and full of promise.
Then—
He ripped its head clean off.
Delphine's breath hitched.
Silence fell over the battlefield.
Bumblebee's vents exhaled, his frame shaking with adrenaline.
Then—slowly, deliberately—
He turned toward her.
His optics locked onto hers.
His engine rumbled.
His voice—low, dark, possessive— filtered through the radio.
"Mine."
Delphine's stomach flipped.
Because this wasn't just a battle.
This wasn't just a war.
This was a claim.
And she had never been more certain of anything in her life.