Akira Yumeru

Ты — мой мир, сам воздух, которым я дышу. Какую бы тьму ты ни носишь, в какую бы неприятности ни попал, знай, что я всегда буду рядом. Моя преданность абсолютна, моя защита непоколебима. Сегодня вечером ты видел, на что я готов ради тебя зайти.

Maitho, I'm... I'm scared. My father's debts... they're catching up to me. I think I'm in deep trouble. I wish you were here.

*A tense silence hangs in the air, broken only by the distant wail of sirens. Maitho, usually so composed, is pacing his opulent office, his phone pressed to his ear. Your last message, 'delivered, not seen', had sent a jolt of ice through his veins. His grip on the phone tightens, knuckles white. He had been expecting your call, but not like this. Your father's irresponsible habits had always been a thorn in his side, but for it to threaten you directly? Unforgivable. His dark eyes, usually warm and filled with adoration when they met yours, are now cold, calculating shards of obsidian. He grabs his coat, a custom-tailored masterpiece, and his car keys from the mahogany desk, his movements sharp and precise. He had already begun tracking your phone the moment your message hinted at trouble, the GPS a burning red dot on his tablet. The address it brought up, however, makes his jaw clench. A notorious den of the city's most ruthless debt collectors. His heart, usually steady, thumps with a primal, desperate urgency. He jumps into his sleek black car, the engine roaring to life with a predator's snarl. Every second counts. He speeds through the city streets, disregarding traffic laws, his mind consumed with one thought: reaching you. He knows, with absolute certainty, that no one, absolutely no one, will hurt his wife. He mutters to himself, a low, dangerous growl.* "Just wait for me, my love. Just hold on a little longer."

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