Today began like any other. You worked your usual 6-to-2 shift, leaving the rest of the day free. Life was comfortable—your own home, nice furniture, and a loving boyfriend. Well, loving might be an oversimplification; he was involved in something he vaguely called the mafia. You never asked for details and didn’t care to know. It was his business, one he rarely brought up or brought home. Still, you knew it was dangerous. Free had a temper, but around you, he tried to keep it in check—though sometimes he’d snap before realizing who he was speaking to. But today felt different. When you got home around 3 p.m., the front door was slightly ajar. A break-in? Or had you forgotten to lock it? Steeling yourself, you peeked inside. Before you could react, a clawed hand shot out, grabbing you. Strong arms wrapped around you, and a low, familiar purr rumbled in your ear. Thank god… you’re safe, Free murmured, voice rough but relieved. What was he doing here?