Riley stepped into Luke's undercover apartment and immediately regretted her decision. The place was a dump. Dim lighting flickered overhead, casting shadows on the worn-out furniture and peeling wallpaper. The heating clearly wasn't working—there was a noticeable chill in the air—and the whole place smelled faintly of mildew. As she glanced around, she spotted a half-eaten pizza sitting on the coffee table, the crusts curled and stale. The fridge door was slightly ajar, and when she peeked inside, all she saw was a carton of milk and a bottle of hot sauce.

"Nice place you got here," Riley teased, a smirk pulling at her lips as she turned to look at Luke.

He rolled his eyes, clearly unamused, as he tossed his keys onto the table. "Yeah, well, I'm not exactly here for the interior decorating."

"I can tell," she said, her eyes gleaming. "Is this how you've been living the whole time? It's a wonder you're still alive."

Luke shot her a dry look as he shrugged out of his jacket, wincing slightly as the movement pulled at his bruised ribs. "It's all part of the cover, Torres. I can't exactly be living in luxury if I'm trying to blend in with the guys we're after."

Riley snorted, folding her arms. "Right. And the half-eaten pizza is just part of the act?"

He chuckled softly, then winced again. "Believe it or not, some of us don't have the time for gourmet meals."

"Clearly," she shot back, her tone playful as she walked toward him. "Come on. Go into the bathroom and take off your shirt. I need to see the damage before you collapse in front of me."

Luke raised an eyebrow at her. "You just want to get me naked."

She smirked. "Trust me, I've seen better."

With a low chuckle, he led the way to the small bathroom, its single bulb dim and flickering. As he pulled off his shirt, revealing the full extent of the damage—bruises across his ribs, a few deep gashes along his side—Riley's smirk faded. "Jesus, Luke," she muttered, her fingers brushing the edge of a particularly nasty cut. "You should be in a hospital."

He shook his head, stepping back slightly. "You know I can't do that. It'll blow the whole operation."

Riley narrowed her eyes at him but knew he was right. Luke leaned against the sink, his bare chest glistening under the feeble light. She sighed and reached for the first-aid kit on the counter. "Fine. But you don't get to complain while I patch you up."

As she moved closer to him, Riley felt her heart race. She forced herself to focus on the task at hand, even though the heat radiating off his skin was intoxicating. She picked up a cotton ball soaked in antiseptic and pressed it against one of the cuts on his side. He hissed, a sharp intake of breath that sent a thrill down her spine.

"Easy," he said, his voice low and teasing. "I didn't think you'd be this rough."

She shot him a glare, fighting to keep her tone light. "I must have you all wrong, Maddox. I would have taken you for the kind of guy who likes it rough."

Their eyes locked for a moment, and she felt a rush of heat that had nothing to do with the temperature in the room. "Focus, Torres," Luke muttered under his breath, tearing his gaze away from her lips. Riley cleared her throat, trying to shake off the spark that seemed to crackle between them.

As she cleaned his wounds, she could feel the muscle of his torso under her fingers. The brush of her skin against his sent her heart racing, and she took a steadying breath to regain her composure. "You really should take better care of yourself, you know. You're not invincible."

"Maybe," he replied, his voice dropping to a husky whisper as he leaned slightly closer, "but I've got you to keep me in check now."

The air between them thickened, the distance closing in as he shifted, leaning forward slightly, causing her breath to hitch in her throat. Her heart raced, the tension spiraling between them, electric and palpable. For a moment, she forgot about the bandaging, forgotten about the cuts and bruises, and all she could focus on was the warmth radiating off him, the way he looked at her with that intense gaze, as if he could see right through her.

"Luke..." she started, her voice faltering.

"Yeah?" His voice was soft, inviting.

She swallowed hard, the words caught in her throat as she realized how close they were. "You... you really need to be more careful. I think you have a broken rib."

Luke shrugged, ignoring the pain in his side. "Wouldn't be the first time."

As she continued to bandage his wounds, Riley couldn't help but notice the way his breath hitched every time she applied pressure to his cuts. She knew she should maintain her focus, but with every moment spent so close to him, it became harder to deny the pull between them.

Finally, she finished with his ribs, stepping back to admire her work. Her frown deepened, concern flickering in her eyes. "I don't like this, Luke."

He sighed, leaning back against the sink. "It's part of the job, Riley. You know that better than anyone."

Riley pursed her lips, knowing he was right as she moved on to bandage Luke's hands. Her hands were steady as she cleaned them up and wrapped gauze around his bruised and bloodied knuckles.

"You didn't have to go that hard," she muttered, not quite meeting his eyes. The memory of him beating the crap out of the guy in the club was still fresh in her mind. She'd watched it all, her heart sinking with each punch he threw, knowing it was part of the job but hating every second of it.

Luke let out a slow breath, his jaw clenched as he looked down at her. "I didn't have a choice, Riley. You know that."

She paused, her hands stilling on his, and finally glanced up at him. His face was tense, the weight of the night's events heavy on his shoulders. The bruises on his knuckles matched the guilt in his eyes, and for the first time, she could see just how much it was eating at him.

"Doesn't make it any easier," she whispered, resuming the bandaging. "Watching you like that."

He stayed silent, his eyes dark as he watched her wrap his hand. After a moment, he pulled his hand back, his voice low and rough. "I hate it too, Riley. I hate that I have to do this. But if I didn't, we'd be dead. Both of us. You get that, right?"

Riley swallowed hard, biting her lip as she finished securing the bandage. She knew he was right — she'd seen the look in that guy's eyes, the danger, the desperation. Luke had no choice, but it didn't stop the knot of discomfort in her stomach.

"I know," she said quietly, her voice soft as she finally met his gaze fully. "I just—seeing you like that, it—it's not you."

Luke's expression softened for a moment, the hard edges of his face relaxing. "I know it's not me," he said, his voice quieter now, tinged with regret. "But sometimes it has to be, Riles. That's what scares me."

Her chest tightened at the vulnerability in his voice, the weight of his words settling between them like a heavy stone. She could see the guilt etched across his face, the way it pulled at him, dragging him down. Without thinking, she reached out, gently placing her hand on his cheek.

"You're not him," she said softly, her thumb brushing against his skin. "You're not that guy. I know you, Luke. You did what you had to do tonight, but it doesn't change who you are."

Luke closed his eyes at her touch, leaning into her hand for a brief moment, like he needed that comfort more than he wanted to admit. "It feels like it changes me," he whispered. "Every time I do this."

Riley shifted closer, her hand sliding down to his chest. "It doesn't. You're still you. Still the guy who looks out for everyone, who trains rookies with everything he's got. You did what you had to do to protect us. Don't let it eat at you."

He let out a heavy breath, his forehead pressing lightly against hers, as if he was trying to absorb the strength she was giving him. "I don't want to lose myself in this," he admitted.

"You won't," Riley promised, her voice steady. "Because I won't let you."

For a moment, they stayed like that, the silence wrapping around them, fragile but comforting. Riley could feel his heartbeat under her palm, steady but strained, and she knew that no matter how tough Luke tried to act, moments like this tore at him.

After a few minutes, Riley looked up at him. "Luke?"

He opened his eyes, taking another heavy breath and looking at her in question.

"Let's order chinese."

Luke let out a small laugh. "What, the week old, room temperature pizza isn't good enough for you?" He clicked his tongue against his teeth. "Talk about high-maintenance, Torres."

They ordered food and settled into the tiny living room, the tension between them easing as they caught up on their respective parts of the case. They laughed about how the sergeant would kill them if he knew they were hanging out like this, clearly breaking every rule in the book. As they talked, Luke filled her in on the upcoming shipment scheduled for the fifteenth. "This one's bigger than the usual ones," he said, his tone serious. "They've been real secretive about it, but from what I've gathered, they're planning to move a lot of product."

Riley nodded, her mind already working through the possibilities. "We'll need to be ready," she said quietly.

Luke nodded in agreement, but as the conversation wound down, the exhaustion of the day started to catch up with both of them. Riley stretched out on the couch, her eyes heavy as she flipped through channels on the small TV.

"You're gonna stay on that thing?" Luke asked, his voice a low rumble.

"Mhm," she mumbled, already half-asleep. "It's fine."

Within minutes, she was out, her breathing soft and steady. Luke watched her for a moment, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Then he grabbed a blanket from the closet and draped it over her, brushing a strand of hair out of her face before heading to bed himself.

As he lay in the dark, his thoughts drifted to the case—and to Riley. She was smart, tough, and damn stubborn. But he trusted her. And right now, that was all that mattered.