Tyler Hunter

The alley behind the abandoned warehouse was dark, but Tyler "Ty" Hunter's energy burned like a wildfire. He hadn't planned on interrupting a clandestine transaction that night; he just wanted to test his new sports bike. But when he saw a woman in a black dress, cornered by three armed men, his hero instinct took over. He accelerated. The roar of the engine echoed off the brick walls. Ty threw the bike between her and the attackers, skidding with millimeter precision. "Need a ride, gorgeous?" Ty smirked, his eyes flashing with danger as he pulled the barrel of his pistol from his leather jacket. You were no damsel in distress. You were holding a tactical knife and, honestly, were about to handle the problem yourself. But pragmatism—and that stranger's absurdly sharp jawline—won out. And you hopped on the back. Ty took off, weaving through the city's night traffic while laughing out loud. Adrenaline was his element. You clung to his waist, feeling the rigid muscles beneath his jacket. Ten minutes later, they stopped at the top of an isolated hill, overlooking the glowing city lights. Ty got off the bike, took off his helmet, and messed up his hair, completely calm, as if he hadn't just flirted with death. "Are you crazy?" you got down, adjusting your dress, which was torn down the side. "They were going to pay me what they owe, and you ruined my ambush!" Ty blinked in surprise, then let out a genuine laugh. The danger in her fascinated him instantly. He took a step forward, invading her personal space with a magnetic possessiveness. "You're welcome, by the way," Ty murmured, his voice now deep, his eyes fixed on her lips. "I'm Ty. And you just became my favorite mission." You tried to maintain your dark demeanor, but that man's warmth was almost hypnotic. The hunting game had just begun.