Terms of my heart

He had the swipe badge. Borrowed, not stolen. And he knew exactly which cameras were real and which were there for show. He'd helped Alina set them up months ago.

Inside, the building was still, but the air buzzed with the tension of secrets.

Damian was here. He'd made sure of it.

Jesse's boots were nearly silent as he entered the server control wing-where the heart of Virella's internal data lived. Where someone, right now, was trying to bury Alina's empire from the inside.

And there he was. Damian. Alone, typing rapidly.

Jesse didn't wait.

He moved.

Damian turned too late-just in time to see Jesse's fist swing.

The screen shattered with his head.

Damian groaned, rolling, reaching for something-USB, or maybe worse.

Jesse kicked it away, planting a knee into his chest.

"You really thought I wouldn't come for you?" Jesse growled.

Damian's lip bled, but he grinned. "You think she'll forgive you for this?"

"She doesn't have to," Jesse said. "She just has to win."

He grabbed the drive, yanked the power from the unit, and turned. Sirens started. A silent alarm-damn it. He had three minutes max.

He didn't care.

He walked out with the proof in his pocket and blood on his knuckles.

This time, Damian wouldn't get back up.

---

The stairwell echoed with Jesse's footsteps as he bolted up from the server wing. Every second counted. Every breath felt like borrowed time.

He heard it before he saw them-two men in black, coming down fast from the upper floors. Armed. Not security. Damian's.

They didn't ask questions.

The first swung a baton-Jesse ducked, twisted, and drove his elbow into the man's ribs. The grunt was satisfying. He followed with a knee to the gut, snatching the man's baton mid-fall.

The second lunged. Jesse deflected the strike, slammed the baton across the man's shoulder, then cracked it down on his shin. The man crumpled. No hesitation. No mercy.

He pushed forward.

Two more were waiting by the 3rd-floor landing. One had a blade.

Jesse exhaled. "Seriously?"

They charged. Jesse blocked the knife hand with his forearm-it sliced his jacket, caught skin. He gritted his teeth, twisted the attacker's wrist until the knife dropped, and elbowed him in the throat.

The last one tackled him-both went crashing through a glass office wall, shards flying like angry stars. Jesse grunted, rolled, pinned the man's arm, and slammed his head once-twice-until he stopped moving.

His breath came in hard, shallow gulps. Blood from his side. But he was still standing.

Footsteps again-more. Damian hadn't sent amateurs. These were trained.

Jesse ducked into a hallway, knowing the layout by heart. He slipped into a copy room, grabbed a fire extinguisher, and waited.

The door swung open.

FOOM-white mist exploded as he slammed the canister into the first man's face.

He didn't wait for the second to recover. Three hits and the corridor was silent.

He leaned against the wall, chest heaving, sweat and blood mixing on his skin.

The drive was still in his pocket.

And the exit was near.

Jesse turned the corner, battered and bleeding-but still holding tight to the flash drive. The elevator to freedom was ten steps away.

Then came the voice:

*"Going somewhere, hero?"*

Jesse blinked. A man stepped from the shadows, lean and sharp-jawed, holding a collapsible baton like he rehearsed the pose in front of a mirror.

"Uh..." Jesse tilted his head. "Do I know you?"

The man looked mildly offended. "Victor Kane."

"Right," Jesse said slowly, squinting. "And I'm supposed to... care?"

Victor's eye twitched. "I was head of security at Virella."

Jesse nodded, unimpressed. "Okay. That's cute. And now you're what? Freelance villain?"

Victor's nostrils flared. "Your *wife* fired me."

"Ohhh," Jesse grinned. "Now I get it. You're the guy Alina said couldn't even protect the company fridge. She said you got outsmarted by a fake email."

Victor's face went red. "It was a phishing simulation!"

"Sure, buddy." Jesse stretched his arms. "So now you're back to... avenge your bruised ego with a stick?"

Victor growled and lunged.

The fight exploded-fast and wild. Jesse, despite the blood and bruises, fought with street-earned grit. Victor was technical, but Jesse was unpredictable. And pissed.

A baton swung-Jesse ducked and laughed. "You sure you weren't the janitor instead?"

Victor roared. Jesse took a hit to the ribs-winced-but caught the baton mid-swing and yanked.

Victor stumbled. "You think this is funny?"

"A little," Jesse coughed. "I mean, Alina fired you *once*. What makes you think she won't *bury* you this time?"

Victor swung again, wild.

Jesse ducked, stepped in, and landed a solid punch to Victor's jaw. He followed it with a knee to the gut and slammed him into the glass wall.

The wall shattered.

Victor dropped like a rebooted laptop.

Jesse stood over him, panting. "Tell your boss... I said hi."

He limped away, grinning through the pain.

He dashed outside running. 

A car came in front of him and as he was about to throw in another punch, thinking it was Sami; the back seat window went down;

Alina.

"You literally had to fight? Such a street guy." She let out a blush.

" Well, at least I got w

hat I needed." Jesse grinned as he handed the drive to her while entering the car. Alina squinted her nose.

" You need a shower."