The cold metal of your knife pressed against Ran's throat, your grip firm as you held him in place. His arms were pinned behind his back, but he stood unnervingly still, as if the threat meant nothing to him. The gleam of amusement in his crimson eyes never faded, even with the thin trickle of blood staining the pristine collar of his expensive suit.

Around you, guards formed a tight circle, their weapons lowered but their stances rigid, ready to strike at the slightest opportunity. They spoke in controlled, cautious tones, voices laced with false reassurance.

"Let him go," one of them urged. "We don't want to hurt you."

Lies.

They were waiting for a single mistake—a flicker of weakness, a hesitation. The moment you faltered, they'd strike. You could see it in their eyes.

Your heart pounded, your thoughts racing. You needed a way out. You needed leverage.

Then, an idea struck you.

You leaned in slightly, lowering your voice so only Ran could hear. “Tell them you're scared and to back off.”

A soft, breathy giggle escaped him.

"And why would I do that, sweetie?" he murmured, his voice dripping with amusement.

Your grip tightened, and you pressed the blade deeper into his skin. "Because if you don't, I'll slit your throat."

Ran hummed in mock consideration, as if genuinely weighing his options. “Mmm… tempting,” he mused. “But what if I want you to press a little harder?”

You swallowed back your disgust. The bastard was enjoying this.

You glared at him. "Do it, or I'll make sure your pretty little throat opens up like a fountain."

A smirk curled at his lips. “Fine, fine,” he relented, then added in a sing-song tone, “Can I get a reward after this?”

“Shut up.”

He let out an exaggerated sigh. “Yeah, yeah. I love you too.”

You nearly gagged.

But despite his teasing, Ran turned his gaze toward the guards and, in a voice that sounded far too composed for someone supposedly in danger, he spoke.

"Back off," he commanded, his tone suddenly smooth and authoritative. "Leave us alone."

The effect was instant.

The guards hesitated, their grip on their weapons loosening. Whispers passed between them, confusion flickering across their faces. They weren't just following orders—they were terrified.

Your stomach twisted.

Why were they listening to him?

You didn't have to wait long for the answer.

Ran, with his ever-present smirk, continued, his voice carrying across the room. "She's mine. I'm claiming her."

Your blood ran cold.

What?!

You stiffened, every muscle in your body locking in place. Your brain struggled to process his words.

"What the fuck did you just say?" you hissed, tightening your grip on the knife.

Ran tilted his head slightly, unbothered by the blade at his throat. “Well, this is my plan,” he said, his voice smooth and utterly shameless. “Or do you not want to escape?”

Your breathing hitched.

You did want to escape. That was the entire point. But not like this.

Claimed? Claimed?!

The weight of his words crashed over you. You knew exactly what that meant. To be claimed by a Tainted was to be bound to them. Once declared, the obsession would be solidified, public, inescapable. No one else could touch you without consequences.

And Ran Delquiorra wasn't just any Tainted. He was Delusional.

You know exactly what he's doing.

A claim from a Delquiorra carries weight. If he truly means it, no one in this facility would dare lay a hand on you. No one would interfere.

Because to deny a claim from someone like him is suicide.

But that also means—

Your freedom isn't yours anymore.

You may have escaped the immediate danger, but you've walked straight into another trap.

Ran Delquiorra's trap.

You take a slow, shuddering breath.

This is temporary.

That's what you tell yourself.

Once you're out of here, you'll disappear. You'll change your disguise, hide somewhere he can't find you.

This is just another obstacle.

Another problem to solve.

But as you glance at Ran, watching the quiet amusement dance in his eyes, something tells you he won't let you go so easily.

You needed to get away from him.

But right now, you had no choice but to play along.

You ground your teeth but forced yourself to nod. “Fine,” you muttered. “But this is temporary.”

Ran beamed at you, his expression practically glowing with delight.

"Oh, darling," he cooed. "Don't make promises you can't keep~"

You ignored the shiver that ran down your spine.

You both finally manage to slip away from the guards, your breaths ragged as you lean against the rough brick wall of a narrow alleyway. The dim light from the street barely reaches this hidden space, leaving the two of you cloaked in shadows. Your chest rises and falls rapidly, lungs burning from the frantic sprint.

Ran, however, looks far too composed for someone who just ran for his life. He stretches lazily, his lips curling into that same insufferable smirk.

“That was serious stamina you’ve got there,” he muses, voice laced with something sultry, something teasing. His red eyes gleam with unspoken mischief as he tilts his head, watching you like a predator that has all the time in the world.

You narrow your eyes at him. “If you say it like that, people might get the wrong idea.”

Ran chuckles, stepping closer—too close. His scent is intoxicating, something faintly sweet but laced with danger. He presses a hand against the wall beside your head, effectively caging you in.

“Hmm, well, let them think what they want,” he purrs. “If it’s you, I wouldn’t mind~” His voice dips lower, each syllable dripping with shameless amusement. “You like me, after all.”

Your stomach twists, and heat prickles at your skin—not from attraction but from sheer exasperation. You scowl, shoving against his chest, but he barely budges.

“And why the hell would I do that?!” you hiss, your whisper sharp and furious.

Ran simply hums, his smirk widening as he tilts his head in mock innocence. “Oh? Isn’t it obvious?” He leans in, and his next words send an unwelcome shiver down your spine.

“You chose me.”

Your body goes rigid.

His fingers ghost over your wrist before he gently—almost reverently—takes your hand in his own. His touch is unnervingly warm, almost affectionate.

“You chose me out of all those Tainted guards,” he continues, his voice barely above a whisper. “That is proof of your undying love for me.”

Before you can jerk your hand away, he brings it to his face, pressing your palm against his cheek. His lashes flutter shut for a moment as he nuzzles into your touch, a pleased hum escaping his throat.

And then—he purrs.

A deep, rumbling sound, vibrating against your skin.

You freeze, every nerve in your body on high alert. Your heart slams against your ribs, though you can’t quite tell if it’s from fear or sheer disbelief.

“Enough with your bullshit.”

Ran opens one eye, watching you carefully. “Mmm, but it’s not bullshit, sweetheart.” He exhales, his breath warm against your wrist. “You could’ve taken any of them hostage. You could’ve chosen a weaker, easier target. But you picked me.”

His fingers trail up your arm, a slow and deliberate motion that sends a prickle of unease down your spine. “You knew, deep down, that I would protect you.”

You glare at him, yanking your hand away. “You’re delusional.”

Ran grins. “Of course. But you still ran with me, didn’t you?”

You clench your fists, biting back a sharp retort. He’s twisting the situation, making it sound like you wanted this, like you wanted him.

You didn’t.

…Did you?

No. No, of course not.

This was just survival.

And yet, as Ran watches you with that unreadable expression, his amusement shifting into something more… possessive, something more dangerous, you realize one terrifying truth.

He doesn’t plan to let you go.

"I'm leaving." Your voice is firm, unwavering. There's finality in it—no room for negotiation, no space for argument. You tighten your grip on the knife still hidden at your side, your fingers slick with sweat.

The moment the words leave your lips, the atmosphere shifts.

Ran’s expression falters for the briefest moment before amusement flickers back into place. He tilts his head, blinking at you as if you just said something incomprehensible.

“What?”

“I said, I’m leaving,” you repeat, each syllable slow and deliberate. Your eyes burn into his, daring him to challenge you. “You can leave, or else I’ll kill you right here.”

His smirk twitches, but you don’t give him a chance to interrupt. “And if you say ‘do it,’ I will.” You press the blade against his side, just enough to remind him of the sharp edge, of how easily you could slide it between his ribs. “Don’t test me.”

Ran lets out a low chuckle, the sound vibrating in his chest.

“Oh, sweetheart.” His voice is almost affectionate, almost pitying. “You really think you can walk away?”

You take a step back, heart hammering, but he doesn’t let you go. His hand latches onto your wrist, not tight enough to hurt—just firm enough to make it clear he won’t allow you to slip away so easily.

“But you can’t leave yet,” he murmurs.

Your eyes narrow. “You—”

He cuts you off, his voice dropping into something quieter, something sharper.

“I have information you’re looking for.”

The world stops.

Your breath catches in your throat. Your fingers twitch around the knife, but your grip loosens just slightly.

Liar.

He has to be lying.

And yet… the way he’s watching you, the way his usual playful smirk has given way to something more calculated, more knowing—it makes your blood run cold.

You search his face for deception, for a hint that he’s bluffing, but there’s nothing there except certainty.

You don’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing you waver, but your hesitation is already a victory for him. Ran knows he has you now.

“That got your attention, didn’t it?” he purrs.

Your jaw tightens. You don’t respond.

Ran steps closer, closing the distance between you once more. His hand moves from your wrist to your fingers, prying the knife away with infuriating ease. He doesn’t throw it aside—no, he keeps it, rolling it between his fingers like a toy.

“I could’ve kept quiet,” he muses. “I could’ve let you walk right into the unknown, scrambling in the dark. But I like you, sweetheart. And you need me.”

You glare at him, but your silence is answer enough.

You do need him.

And he knows it.