The office was unremarkable, far from the grandeur you’d expect from someone like Morgan Edge. Bland furniture, minimal decoration—he’d clearly invested a lot in apperances. You stepped over to the mini-bar, pouring yourself a glass of whiskey from the crystal decanter. The amber liquid caught the dim light, refracting against the glass. You took a slow sip, the sharp burn of alcohol grounding you as you turned your gaze to the chair across the room.
There he sat.
Morgan Edge.
His body slumped awkwardly to one side, his head tilted unnaturally, and his lifeless eyes stared blankly at the floor. Blood trickled from the wound on his temple, pooling beneath the chair and dripping steadily onto the stone floor with a quiet plip-plip. It was the only sound in the room, a morbid metronome marking the end of his life.
You swallowed the last of the whiskey, letting it scorch its way down your throat. The satisfaction you’d anticipated—a mix of vindication and justice—settled somewhere between icy calm and a hollow ache. He was dead. You had made sure of that. Morgan Edge had orchestrated the despair that led to your best friend’s suicide. His greed, his lies, his utter lack of remorse—all of it had left a wake of destruction that you could no longer ignore.
But standing here, staring at the aftermath of your actions, the silence felt heavier than you’d expected. There was no relief, just a cold, stifling quiet.
Your thoughts were interrupted by the click of footsteps, echoing through the hallway. Instinctively, you straightened, setting the glass down with measured care. The door swung open, and in walked Lena Luthor.
She was striking, as you’d always heard—sleek black attire clinging to her sharp silhouette, her heels bringing her just enough height to make her presence impossible to overlook. Her emerald-green eyes immediately found the body, then flicked to you. She lowered her gun for a moment having not expected anyone but Edge to be there.
“Did you…” she began, her voice low and steady, though you caught the edge of disbelief cutting through her tone. “Did you kill him?”
You tilted your head, studying her as she studied you. She didn’t flinch, didn’t recoil. If anything, her posture shifted subtly, bracing for what might come next.
“Why?” she asked again, her words laden with layers of frustration, curiosity, and—oddly—something like disappointment.
“Why?” you echoed, the word rolling off your tongue slowly, as if savoring it. You smiled faintly, but it didn’t reach your eyes. “Because he deserved it.”
Her gaze lingered on the blood at her feet, her mind clearly racing, but when her eyes returned to you, they were sharper, scrutinizing every inch of your expression.
“And you are?” she demanded, crossing her arms. “I don’t even know your name.”
For the first time, you felt a flicker of amusement at her audacity. You gave her your name, watching the way she held it like a piece of a puzzle, turning it over in her mind. The way her brows knit together ever so slightly made it clear she was trying to figure something out but couldn’t make any connections.
“You were planning to kill him,” you said matter-of-factly, nodding toward the corpse, “weren’t you?”
Lena’s jaw tightened, but she didn’t deny it. That was answer enough.
“Well,” you said, smirking, “you should’ve been faster.”
You turned toward the door, fully intending to leave her with the mess. Whatever she had come to do tonight was no longer relevant. You’d done the job for her. But you barely made it a step before her voice cut through the room again, sharp and unyielding.
“Wait.”
The command in her tone stopped you, though you didn’t turn immediately. She continued, her words low but forceful, carrying an undeniable weight.
“This mess,” she said, gesturing to the body, “it’s not going to disappear. You’ve started something, and if you think you can just walk away from it—”
You turned slowly, raising a brow at her. “You expect me to stay here and go to prison for that idiot?”
Her eyes narrowed, lips pressing together in a way that suggested she wasn’t used to being interrupted.
“Don’t be naive,” she said coolly. “You may have taken him out, but you’re not free of this. Actions have consequences.”
You shrugged, unbothered by her attempt to lecture you. “Consequences, sure. But prison?” You scoffed. “I made sure the cameras aren’t working. There’s no evidence tying me—or you—to this. Besides,” you added with a faint smile, “we’re just two strangers who happened to cross paths at the wrong time. Right?”
For a long moment, neither of you moved. The smell of whiskey and blood mixing and finally, Lena exhaled sharply, her calculating mask slipping just enough to reveal the flicker of frustration and intrigue beneath it.
“I’m certainly not going to face prison for him,” she said finally, her voice clipped, each word deliberate. “Not when I didn’t kill him.”
She cast another glance at Morgan Edge’s lifeless body, the muscles in her jaw tightening. The faintest exhale escaped her lips—frustration, perhaps, or something closer to resignation.
“You shouldn’t have to,” you replied smoothly, You stepped away from the mini-bar, taking another sip of the whiskey, your eyes never leaving her. “And why would either of us face prison time?”
Lena’s eyes narrowed slightly, her brow furrowing as she scrutinized your every word. “What do you mean?” she asked, suspicion lacing her tone.
“The cameras in this place aren’t working. I made sure of it,” you said, your voice calm and assured. “Now, we’re just two strangers with no connection to each other. If for some reason they started to suspect the woman that has so much hatred toward him…and who hates as well….and if I were to say that certain woman was interviewing me at the time of his death, they’d believe me. After all, why would I lie for you?”
“And what makes you think they’d suspect me but not you?” she countered, her tone laced with defiance, though there was an edge of genuine curiosity beneath it.
You leaned against the desk, your stance relaxed yet deliberate, meeting her gaze with unwavering confidence. “He has no connection to me whatsoever,” you said evenly. “But you?” You let the words hang in the air for a moment, watching her reaction. “You’re his business rival. Everyone knows about the animosity between the two of you. The way I see it, you’ve got motive, opportunity—and now, the misfortune of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
Lena stiffened, her arms folding across her chest. Her nails tapped lightly against her forearm as she considered your words. Despite her best efforts to remain stoic, a faint tension tugged at the corners of her mouth. She hated this. Hated that you were right.
“So,” you said, your voice softening ever so slightly as you took a step closer, “the way I see it, I can help you.”
Her eyes narrowed, and she tilted her head, her tone clipped. “Help me? Why would you want to help me?”
You chuckled softly, a low, almost amused sound. “Not particularly because I want to, Ms. Luthor,” you admitted, your voice laced with calm pragmatism. “But because helping you helps me. We both get to walk away from this without complications. You keep your hands clean, and I…” You paused, your smile fading just slightly, replaced by a darker, more serious expression. “I get to go home and sleep easy knowing he’s out of the picture.”
Lena stared at you for a long moment, her expression unreadable. She wasn’t convinced yet—not fully. Her sharp mind was still dissecting every word, searching for the catch, the angle.
“And why should I trust you?” she asked finally, her voice steady but tinged with suspicion. “I don’t know you. For all I know, you could throw me under the bus the moment you’re safe.”
You shrugged casually, as if the answer didn’t require much thought. “You don’t have to trust me,” you said, pouring yourself another drink. “But let’s be honest—what choice do you have?”
Her jaw tightened, and her gaze flicked to the body on the floor.
“You’ve already been dragged through enough,” you added, your voice soft but pointed. “False accusations. Lies. Your name smeared through the mud, over and over again. Do you really want to fight another uphill battle because of him?” You gestured toward Edge’s body with a flick of your hand, your tone dripping with disdain.
Lena clenched her fists at her sides, her nails digging into her palms as she processed your words. She didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she took a slow step forward, her heels clicking softly against the stone floor. Her eyes flicked between you and Edge’s lifeless form, the tension in the room thick enough to cut with a knife.
Finally, she let out a sharp exhale, her voice clipped as she spoke. “Fine,” she said, the single word laced with reluctant acceptance. “But if we do this, we do it on my terms. No more games.”
You tilted your glass toward her, a wry smile curving your lips. “Games aren’t really my thing, Ms. Luthor. I get things done. You’ll find that I can be… quite efficient.”
“Then how do we make this work? What’s the story?”
You took a sip of the whiskey, savoring the burn before setting the glass down with deliberate care. “Simple,” you said, your tone steady “You were interviewing me about a potential job. I was here for business purposes, and you happened to arrive just as everything went down. You had no knowledge of what happened, and I can confirm your whereabouts.”
Lena raised an eyebrow, skepticism etched into every line of her expression. “And what do you get out of this,” she asked, her voice low and cutting, “aside from avoiding jail?”
You leaned in slightly, your tone dropping. “Closure,” you said simply. “Morgan Edge ruined my best friend’s life, and he ruined yours too, in his own way. Now he’s gone, and I don’t care about anything else. You and I walk away clean, and the world’s rid of a monster.”
“and you expect me to just walk away? To pretend none of this happened?”
“yes”
In the weeks that followed, the plan unfolded flawlessly, as you had expected. Lena was nothing if not efficient, her influence and meticulous attention to detail ensuring there was no trace of what had happened. The police dismissed the case as just a bitter rivalry that had spiraled out of control. Afterall, Edge had a lot of things, including enemies.
You had fully intended to disappear after everything was settled, but Lena had other plans.
Instead of letting you vanish, she’d extended—well, insisted on—an offer: a position at L-Corp. Not out of kindness, certainly not out of gratitude, but out of necessity. She wasn’t the type to let someone with as much leverage as you had walk away unchecked. She kept you close, and while her intentions were transparent, you didn’t mind. The salary was generous, and the responsibilities minimal.
Now, sitting in your corner office, you found yourself basking in the absurd luxury of it all. The room was sleek and modern, its floor-to-ceiling windows offering a sweeping view of National City’s skyline. The leather chair you leaned back in was almost sinfully comfortable, and the glossy desk before you was littered with files you had no real interest in reading.
As you flipped idly through one of the documents, the sound of the door opening drew your attention. You didn’t need to look up to know who it was.
“Enjoying yourself?” Lena’s tone cool and clipped.
You glanced up, a smirk already tugging at the corner of your lips. She stood in the doorway, her arms crossed, the sharp lines of her black blazer accentuating her commanding presence. Her expression was unreadable, but her eyes bore into you with the same intensity you’d come to expect.
“Immensely,” you replied, setting the file down as if it were of no importance. “It’s a nice change of pace—getting paid for doing next to nothing.”
Lena’s lips thinned, her gaze narrowing slightly. She stepped into the room, her heels clicking softly against the polished floor. “Don’t get too comfortable,” she said, her tone laced with venom. “I didn’t give you this job to lounge around.”
You leaned back in the chair, your arms resting lazily on the armrests, meeting her gaze with a relaxed confidence. “Ah, so you’re finally admitting it,” you said, the smirk growing. “You didn’t hire me because I’m ‘useful.’ You just wanted to keep an eye on me.”
“I want to make sure you don’t slip up,” she said coolly. “You might have been useful that night, but that doesn’t mean I trust you.”
Her words weren’t surprising, but the sharpness in her tone sent a ripple of satisfaction through you. Lena Luthor was a fortress, but she wasn’t impenetrable. You could see the cracks—small, fleeting moments of frustration and doubt—and you reveled in them.
“Fair enough,” you replied with a shrug, as if her mistrust were of no consequence to you. “But you should know, I’m not planning on slipping up. I like my life as it is—simple, quiet, and well-paid.”
“This isn’t a game,” she said sharply, her voice cutting through the room. “You may think you’ve found an easy way in, but don’t mistake my tolerance for trust. The moment you become a liability—”
“You’ll make sure I regret it,” you interrupted, your tone light, though your eyes gleamed with something sharper. “I’ve heard the speech before, Ms. Luthor.”
As if deciding she’d wasted enough time on you, Lena straightened, her shoulders square and her expression neutral once more. “Just don’t forget why you’re here,” she said curtly, turning toward the door.
As she walked away, her heels echoing against the floor, you couldn’t help but chuckle softly to yourself. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Ms. Luthor,” you muttered under your breath, though you were certain she could still hear you.
Some time passed and you continued to work at L-Corp, while you didn’t get to see Lena every day, you did get to interact with her from time to time specially during the meetings. While you didn’t know what you were doing in the meetings, you did enjoy them when Lena attended. It was so fun to press her buttons when she was there or to try and get a reaction out of her, it was your entertainment.
After one of those particular meetings, Lena’s heels clicked against the polished floors as she walked away from the meeting room and went toward her office. The moment the door to her own office closed behind her, she let out a slow, controlled breath.
The room was dimly lit, the late afternoon sunlight filtering through the blinds in slanted beams, casting long shadows across the sleek, modern furniture. Lena walked to her desk, her movements deliberate, though her mind was far less composed than her actions suggested. Sitting down, she leaned back in her chair, her hands clasping the edge of the armrests as she stared blankly at the holographic display in front of her.
She couldn’t shake the image of you—so maddeningly calm, leaning back in your chair as if the world itself were some kind of joke you were in on. The smirk on your face, the casual defiance in your tone, the way your eyes glinted with indifference towards other, it was infuriating. And yet…
Lena clenched her jaw, trying to push the thought away. You were dangerous. That much was obvious from the moment she met you in Morgan Edge’s office, standing over his lifeless body with the same unsettling ease you carried into every room. You were unpredictable, manipulative, and entirely too good at getting under her skin.
And yet, for all the reasons she shouldn’t trust you, there was something else, something that gnawed at her in quiet moments like this. A pull she didn’t want to acknowledge.
Her fingers tightened around the armrests as her thoughts spiraled. She hated how effortlessly you pushed her buttons, how you managed to turn every conversation into a game she felt like she was losing. You weren’t just a liability—you were a complication. A distraction.
Lena’s gaze flicked to the faint reflection of herself in the glass partition to her left. Her expression was unreadable, but the faint flush in her cheeks betrayed her. She was angry. But not just angry at you—angry at herself.
Why can’t I stop thinking about you?
Her mind replayed the moments from earlier—the way you leaned back in your chair, radiating confidence as if you owned the room. As if you actually had a clue as to what you were doing or the business world in general. You didn’t, and she knew that. She only made you attend the meetings so that it seemed like you actually had some sort of role to play.
She hated the way your smirk deepened every time you saw her irritation. The way you interrupted her, cutting through her warnings with that maddeningly casual tone. It seemed like you were relishing on getting under her skin….
She leaned forward, pressing her elbows onto the desk and resting her chin against her clasped hands. Her eyes narrowed as she replayed the conversation.
You were too smooth, too self-assured. You never flinched, never hesitated. It made you impossible to pin down, and that… unnerved her. People like you, who couldn’t be controlled were dangerous.Then again…you had nothing to lose….that made you even more dangerous.
Lena groaned softly, tilting her head back to stare at the ceiling. Her fingers traced slow, thoughtful circles against the sleek surface of her desk. She hated this. She hated how you made her feel off-balance, how you occupied space in her thoughts even when she had more pressing matters to attend to.
Finally, she leaned forward, pulling her tablet closer. She opened a report, one of the dozens she had been meaning to review, hoping to redirect her thoughts into something productive. But as her eyes skimmed the lines of text, her mind betrayed her, slipping back to you—
She dropped the tablet with a frustrated sigh, leaning back in her chair and rubbing her temples. “This isn’t a game,” she muttered aloud, echoing the words she’d said to you earlier. But even as she said them, she couldn’t help but feel like you were winning, one maddeningly confident move at a time.
For a moment, she allowed herself to wonder—just wonder—what it would take to tip the scales back in her favor.
--
The office had become too quiet, the kind of stillness that prickled at the edges of your instincts. The sun was low in the sky, casting streaks of amber across the polished floor as you prepared to leave for the day. But then you heard it—a faint noise, almost swallowed by the hum of the city outside. It wasn’t the ordinary shuffle of late-night employees or the quiet murmur of conversations. No, this was sharper, heavier. A muffled shout, followed by a crash.
Your muscles tensed as you stilled, ears straining to pick up more. The sound was faint but unmistakable, coming from the direction of Lena’s office.
Moving quickly but quietly, you slipped into the hallway, the low hum of fluorescent lights above doing little to mask the commotion growing louder with each step. Another crash, followed by a grunt of pain.
By the time you reached the door to her office, your adrenaline was coursing. You didn’t pause to think or plan—you acted, shoving the door open with enough force to send it slamming against the wall.
The scene inside was chaos.
Lena was backed against a corner, her posture rigid, her arms raised defensively. Her black blazer was slightly askew, a testament to the scuffle that had already taken place, but her eyes blazed with fury and defiance. She wasn’t the type to cower, even when cornered.
Her attackers were three men, their faces obscured by black masks. The largest of the three was closest to Lena, a knife glinting in his hand as he advanced. His companions flanked him, one holding what looked like a crowbar, the other unarmed but radiating menace with his clenched fists and measured stance.
Time slowed. You took in every detail—the tension in Lena’s shoulders, the subtle shift in the knife-wielding man’s weight as he lunged forward, and the cold glint of fearlessness in her emerald eyes.
You didn’t hesitate.
Your hand closed around a decorative vase on the console table near the door. With a sharp pivot, you hurled it across the room. The vase shattered against the back of the knife-wielder’s head with a sickening crunch, shards scattering as he crumpled to the ground. The motion was so sudden that the remaining two attackers froze for a fraction of a second, their heads whipping toward you.
That pause was all you needed.
The man with the crowbar was closest, and he swung it toward you with brute force. You sidestepped just in time, the metal missing your ribs by inches and slamming into the wall with a deafening clang. The momentum left him exposed, and you capitalized on it, driving your elbow into his throat. He choked, staggering backward, the crowbar slipping from his grasp. You didn’t give him a chance to recover. A swift kick to his chest sent him crashing into the edge of Lena’s desk, the wood splintering beneath the impact.
The third man, seeing his comrades downed, didn’t hesitate. His first punch grazed your jaw, sharp enough to make your teeth rattle, but you absorbed the blow, using his momentum to your advantage. As his weight shifted forward, you hooked a leg behind his knee, sending him off balance. Before he could recover, you drove a fist into his stomach, the force doubling him over.
But he wasn’t finished. With surprising speed, he grabbed the collar of your shirt, yanking you toward him in an attempt to regain control. You snarled, twisting out of his grip and delivering a sharp uppercut that snapped his head back. He crumpled to the floor beside the others, groaning but no longer a threat.
The room was silent except for the sound of your ragged breathing and the soft clinking of glass shards underfoot. You straightened, your pulse still pounding in your ears as you turned toward Lena.
She hadn’t moved from the corner. Her expression was unreadable at first, her lips slightly parted as she stared at the scene before her. Then her gaze shifted to you, her chest rising and falling with barely controlled breaths from her previous struggles.
“Are you hurt?” you asked, your voice rougher than you intended.
She blinked, as if snapping out of a trance. “I’m fine,”
Her eyes darted to the unconscious attackers sprawled across her office, then back to you. “How did you—”
“Lucky timing,” you interrupted, brushing dust from your sleeves. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I said I’m fine,” she snapped, her tone regaining some of its usual sharpness. But as she stepped away, you noticed the way her hands shook lightly.
Finally, Lena straightened fully, smoothing her blazer.. “I didn’t expect to need help tonight,” she admitted, her tone low but firm. “Especially not from you.”
You smirked, though your heart was still hammering. “Good thing I’m full of surprises.”
Lena nodded, regaining her composure. “Thank you,” she said, though the words seemed difficult for her to say.
You waved it off, glancing over at the attackers on the ground. “Don’t mention it. But you might want to beef up security around here.”
Lena’s eyes softened for a moment. “I’ll handle it,” she said quietly. Then, after a pause, “Why did you do it?”
You raised an eyebrow, amused. “What, save you?”
“Yes.”
You shrugged casually. “Couldn’t let my boss get hurt, now could I? Who’s going to pay me to do nothing?”
Lena’s lips twitched as if she wanted to smile, but the moment passed quickly. She turned toward the window, staring out at the city lights, deep in thought. You watched her for a moment before turning to leave, but her voice stopped you at the door.
“… I’m beginning to you’re not as ….awful as you like to appear” Lena said softly, her back still to you.
You paused, considering her words. A slow smile spread across your face as you glanced back at her. “Careful, Lena. Thinking I might actually be good, is the most dangerous thing you can do”
Later that night, the lights of the city glittered through the expansive floor-to-ceiling windows of Lena’s penthouse. She stood at the bar tucked into the corner of the living room, her fingers curled loosely around a tumbler of scotch. The amber liquid caught the soft light of the room as she swirled it idly, her gaze distant.
The events of the day replayed in her mind. Her office, the chaos, the attackers. And then you—stepping into the fray as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
Lena took a slow sip of the scotch, savoring its warmth as it slid down her throat. The adrenaline from earlier had long since faded, leaving behind a strange mix of exhaustion and unease. Her free hand tightened on the edge of the bar as her thoughts turned to you.
You had appeared out of nowhere, stepping into the chaos with a confidence that was oddly reassuring. The memory of you standing over her assailants sent a shiver down her spine. You had been efficient, methodical, and unrelenting…it had been surprising considering you were nothing more than a human.
And yet, when you’d turned to her afterward, asking if she was okay, there had been something genuine in your voice. Was she just imagining things? Maybe it was just wishful thinking…
Lena set the glass down, the clink of crystal against marble breaking the silence of the room. She crossed to the windows, wrapping her arms around herself as she stared out at the sprawling city below.
Why did you save me?
The question lingered in her mind, gnawing at the edges of her thoughts. Your answer earlier had been flippant, as always—“Who’s going to pay me?”—but she wasn’t naive enough to believe that was the whole truth. There was more to it, something you weren’t saying.
She hated how much it unsettled her.
Lena let out a quiet sigh, her breath fogging the glass as she leaned her forehead against the window. She had always prided herself on her ability to read people, to see through their facades and understand their motives. But with you, it wasn’t so simple.
One moment, you were infuriating, pushing her buttons with that insufferable smirk and flippant attitude. The next, you were stepping into danger on her behalf, she knew you well enough that you weren’t exactly someone that enjoyed helping people out of the kindness of your heart.
And then there was the way you’d looked at her afterward.
Lena closed her eyes, the image rising unbidden in her mind—your eyes locking with hers. There had been something there, something that made her chest tighten in a way she didn’t want to examine too closely.
With a shake of her head, she turned away from the window and returned to the bar, picking up her glass again. She took another sip, the scotch burning slightly more this time.
Don’t be foolish, Lena, she told herself firmly. They’re just another complication. Nothing more.
But even as she tried to convince herself, the words rang hollow.
As she turned toward her bedroom, the thought lingered in the back of her mind like a shadow she couldn’t shake.
Careful, Lena. Thinking I might actually be good, is the most dangerous thing you can do.
Your words echoed in her mind as she climbed into bed, staring at the ceiling as the city lights danced across it. For the first time in a long time, Lena Luthor wasn’t entirely sure what to do next.
--
Months passed, and your life at L-Corp had fallen into a predictable pattern. The work, which had been a novelty at first, quickly became dull. Filing reports, attending meetings, and dealing with corporate bureaucracy didn’t exactly excite you. You had always thrived on chaos, and this world of quiet luxury left you restless.
That’s when you started to get creative.
The door to your office slammed open with enough force to make the windows rattle. You looked up from your desk, barely fazed, though the sight that greeted you was far more intense than you had anticipated.
Lena stood in the doorway, her shoulders squared, her jaw set, and her emerald-green eyes blazing with fury. Her usual air of icy composure was gone, replaced by something raw and untamed. A folder dangled from her hand.
For a moment, you simply stared at her, mildly impressed by the fire in her gaze.
“Can I help you?” you asked, leaning back in your chair with deliberate nonchalance, the faintest smirk tugging at your lips.
“You’ve been killing people,” she spat, her voice sharp and accusing. She stepped inside, slamming the folder onto your desk with enough force to send papers scattering. “Rivals, internal threats—people who could have been handled through legal means, through company policy.” She leaned forward, her hands bracing against the desk, her voice dropping into something more venomous. “And you—”
She cut herself off, shaking her head in frustration, as though even voicing her anger at you was a concession she hated to make. But then her eyes locked onto yours, the indifference in them destroying whatever restraint she was holding. “You’ve been playing judge, jury, and executioner,”
You glanced down at the disarray of papers now spread across your desk. Detailed reports, printouts of financial anomalies, and snippets of incident records stared back at you, each one tied to someone who had mysteriously “disappeared” from Lena’s path. You were almost impressed she’d pieced it all together so quickly.
“Well,” you said finally, leaning back in your chair and crossing your arms, “someone’s been doing their homework.”
Lena’s eyes narrowed, the heat of her anger practically radiating off her. “Don’t,” she warned, her voice low and dangerous. “Don’t sit there and act like this is some kind of joke. You’ve been interfering, operating behind my back, making decisions that aren’t yours to make.”
You shrugged, unbothered. “Look, Lena, we both know this world isn’t as clean as you’d like it to be. People don’t play by the rules. I’m just evening the playing field.”
“By killing people?” Lena spat, disbelief mixed with frustration. “This is not how I run my company.”
“No, it’s not,” you said, standing up and meeting her gaze. “You handle the everyday operations, you make sure L-Corp stays squeaky clean on the surface. I take care of the dirt. You might not like my methods, but they work.”
Lena crossed her arms, her expression hardening. “I don’t need a vigilante running around, taking matters into their own hands. If I wanted someone to eliminate problems like that, I’d hire a mercenary.”
“You did hire a mercenary,” you pointed out with a smirk. “You just didn’t realize it at the time. Besides…what’s the downside to all of this?” you asked, your voice calm, though your gaze held an edge. “The fact that I removed obstacles? Ensuring L-Corp runs smoothly? Keeping your hands clean?”
Her fists slammed down onto the desk, her composure fracturing further. “Don’t twist this around!” she snapped. “You didn’t do this for L-Corp. You didn’t do this for me. You did this for yourself. Don’t pretend for one second that you’re anything but selfish in all of this.”
You stood slowly, your calm demeanor hardening as you closed the distance between you and her. “Selfish?” you repeated, your voice sharp, but controlled. “Maybe. But don’t stand there and tell me I didn’t get results. You’ve been expanding, haven’t you? L-Corp’s name is untouchable right now, stronger than it’s been in years. Who do you think made that possible?”
Lena’s jaw tightened, her knuckles whitening as her hands curled into fists at her sides. “That doesn’t justify what you’ve done,” she hissed, her voice trembling with the effort to contain her rage. “There are ways to deal with threats that don’t involve…” She trailed off, gesturing at the folder as though the word itself were too abhorrent to speak aloud. “Murder.”
You let out a dry chuckle, shaking your head. “This world doesn’t play by your rules, Lena. You might want to believe in ‘clean’ solutions, but clean doesn’t always cut it. Sometimes, the only way to protect something—someone—is to get your hands dirty.”
Her expression twisted, torn between anger and something closer to disbelief. “Don’t you dare,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Don’t you dare try to justify this by pretending it’s about me.”
You took a step closer, lowering your voice but not your intensity. “You’re right. It’s not about you. It’s about me. Because unlike you, I don’t have a reputation to protect. I don’t have a company to run or ideals to uphold. I can do what you can’t, what you won’t.”
Finally, she straightened,“You think this makes you indispensable?” she asked, her voice icy. “You think you’ve earned a place here because you’ve cleaned up messes? All you’ve done is put a target on your back—and mine.”
You tilted your head, studying her carefully. “And yet, here we are,” you said softly, the weight of your calm pressing against the room’s tension. “You’re still standing. L-Corp is thriving. No one’s come for you, Lena. Because I made sure of that.”
Her gaze hardened, but for the briefest moment, something flickered in her eyes—doubt, guilt, maybe even understanding. It was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by the steely resolve you’d come to admire.
“This ends now,” she said firmly, each word deliberate. “You don’t make another move without my knowledge. You don’t make another decision without my approval. Do you understand?”
You held her gaze for a long moment, the tension between you thick and electric. Then, slowly, you nodded, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. “Crystal clear.”
Lena didn’t respond, her eyes lingering on you for a beat longer before she turned sharply on her heel and strode toward the door. She didn’t look back as it slammed shut behind her,.
A few months passed as the door flew open and slammed against the wall harshly. You didn’t flinch—by now, you’d grown accustomed to Lena Luthor’s dramatic entrances. Still, you couldn’t help but admire the sheer presence she carried when she was angry. And she was furious.
Her sharp green eyes blazed with indignation, her expression thunderous. She carried a folder in one hand, her grip tight enough to wrinkle the edges of the papers inside. Without hesitation, she tossed it onto your desk, its contents spilling out in a chaotic spread of damning reports.
“You think this is a game?” she snapped.
You leaned back in your chair, hands clasped behind your head as you regarded her with a casual smirk. God, she was mesmerizing like this—her sharp jawline tense, her usually composed demeanor cracked and raw. It wasn’t the first time you’d thought it, but anger suited Lena Luthor. There was something magnetic about the way her frustration pushed through her usual cool facade, making her even more striking.
“I didn’t do anything,” you said smoothly, feigning innocence as your eyes flicked lazily to the scattered papers. “What exactly are you accusing me of this time?”
Lena’s fists clenched at her sides, her shoulders rising and falling with her uneven breaths. “Don’t you dare play dumb with me,” she hissed, her tone dripping with venom. “I told you—no more of this! You agreed to follow my rules!”
You stood slowly, matching her intensity but keeping your voice calm, amused even. “I have been following your rules,” you countered, gesturing to the papers. “I didn’t lay a hand on anyone. simply... created the circumstances.”
Her jaw tightened, and her gaze bore into yours with an intensity that would’ve made a lesser person falter. “You’re playing with fire,” she said through gritted teeth. “You think this little game of yours is clever, but it’s reckless. You’re reckless.”
You couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at your lips. She was beautiful when she was angry—eyes alight with fury, cheeks faintly flushed, every movement charged with barely restrained energy. For a brief moment, you wondered if she realized how captivating she looked, or if she was too consumed by her irritation to notice.
“Reckless?” you repeated, stepping around the desk and closing the distance between you. “Lena, I’ve kept your hands clean, haven’t I? No one can trace anything back to you. No one can trace anything back to me. I’d say I’ve been very careful.”
“That’s not the point!” she snapped, her voice rising, frustration bleeding into every word. She took a step closer, her finger jabbing toward your chest. “I told you I didn’t want this! I told you to stop! You don’t get to decide what’s best for L-Corp without consulting me!”
Her anger radiated off, and yet you found yourself leaning into it. She was intoxicating like this—her righteous fury, her unyielding resolve, the way her lips trembled ever so slightly as she struggled to maintain control.
You tilted your head, the smirk on your lips softening into something more playful. “seems like someone has been thinking a lot about me”
Her eyes widened fractionally, a crack in her armor that she quickly sealed with another flash of anger. “Don’t flatter yourself,” she spat, though the faint flush on her cheeks betrayed her.
You chuckled, unable to hide your amusement. “Oh, come on, Lena. You’ve been distracted lately. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”
“Not by you,” she shot back, though her voice faltered slightly, as if even she didn’t believe her own words. Her hands clenched into fists again, her frustration shifting into something more complicated—something she clearly didn’t want to acknowledge.
You stepped closer, the distance between you almost nonexistent now. Her breath hitched, just for a moment, but she held her ground, her defiance unwavering. “You’re angry, but it’s not just about what I’ve done, is it?”
Her lips parted as though she wanted to respond, but no words came. Her gaze flicked to your lips for the briefest second before snapping back to your eyes, her cheeks darkening further.
“I hate you,” she finally said, her voice a whisper laced with venom.
“Are you sure about that?” you murmured, your smirk deepening as you tilted your head ever so slightly.
Lena took a sharp breath, her green eyes blazing as she glowered up at you. “You arrogant, selfish, narcissistic—!”
Before she could finish, your hands gripped her waist, pulling her toward you in one swift, impulsive motion. Your lips crashed against hers, fierce and demanding, pouring every ounce of the tension that had been growing. It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t tender. It was raw, chaotic—a collision of her anger you’re your desire.
For a split second, Lena froze, her body stiff against yours. Her mind was clearly racing to process what was happening, the heat of the moment catching her off guard. But the shock didn’t last. With a sharp intake of breath, she tore herself away, shoving you back with surprising strength.
Her hand came up in an instant, the slap landing across your cheek. The sharp crack of it echoed in the silence, but you didn’t flinch. You stood there, your chest heaving, adrenaline coursing through you as her fiery gaze bore into yours.
“How dare you!?” she hissed, her voice trembling with fury. Her cheeks were flushed, her breath uneven.
You let out a shaky exhale, the corner of your mouth curling into a smirk despite the heat radiating from your cheek. That smirk—your arrogance, your unflinching audacity—only seemed to infuriate her further.
Lena stood frozen for a moment, her chest rising and falling with quick breaths. Her hand hovered near her side, still trembling slightly, her fingers curling and uncurling as though she didn’t know what to do with them.
But then, without warning, Lena stepped forward, grabbing the front of your shirt in a fierce, almost desperate motion. Before you could speak, before you could even register the shift, her lips were on yours again.
This kiss was different. Her lips moved against yours with a wild intensity, her hands fisting the fabric of your shirt as though she couldn’t stand the idea of letting go.
You kissed her back, matching her fervor, your hands sliding to her waist and holding her close. The world outside the room faded, your mind consumed entirely by her—the way her lips moved against yours, the way her nails grazed your skin as her fingers tangled in your hair, pulling you closer, deeper.
When she finally pulled back, her breath came in ragged gasps, her lips slightly swollen, her hair just a little out of place. She stared at you, her eyes searching yours, her expression unreadable.
Lena exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair as she stepped back, putting distance between you. “This isn’t over,” she said, her voice quiet but firm.
Without another glance, she turned and strode toward the door, her movements hurried as she was processing everything that had happened. The door closed behind her with a soft click, and you couldn’t help but chuckle.
You blinked, still catching your breath, the faint taste of her lipstick lingering on your lips. Turning toward the mirror, you noticed the smear of red across your mouth and let out a low chuckle. Wiping it away with your thumb, you glanced toward the door she had just walked through.
She had just made the game much more exciting…and you were planning on winning it.