Raven's POV :
The doctor left around midnight. Vasin, sometime after. He didn't say goodbye—just looked at me with something like knowing in his eyes and slipped out into the quiet.
I stayed.
Because I couldn't leave.
Kairus lay in the center of his enormous bed, half his body wrapped in fresh gauze and bandages, a cold compress resting over his brow. The bedlight painted him in gold and shadow. His breathing was shallow, but steady now.
I sat curled in the velvet armchair beside the bed, knees to my chest, watching him.
What the hell are you doing, Raven?
He's a criminal. Dangerous. A bastard who makes threats and pulls triggers without flinching.
But here…
Here, asleep…
He looked like something entirely different.
His face was softer without the glare, the smirk, the relentless coldness. The lines between his brows smoothed. His lips, usually set in a ruthless line, were parted just slightly. Almost… vulnerable.
He looks like an angel.
The thought slipped in without warning.
And I hated it.
I hated how I couldn't stop staring at him. How, in the stillness, he didn't feel like a monster at all. He felt… human. Hurting. Lost.
Maybe that was the worst part.
That deep down, I didn't believe he was heartless anymore.
I exhaled slowly, pulling the throw from the couch around my shoulders and sinking deeper into the chair.
Don't get attached.
Don't get involved.
Don't be stupid.
But Kairus had grabbed my hand like it was the only thing anchoring him to this world. He'd bled all over my clothes, but his first word had been my name. He should've been thinking about revenge, war, power, pain—whatever it was that consumed him.
But he'd only asked if I was okay.
Why do you care so much?
I didn't have an answer.
And it scared me.
He stirred slightly, turning his face toward me in his sleep, brows twitching like the nightmares still hunted him even in unconsciousness. I almost reached out—almost brushed the dark hair from his forehead. But I stopped myself.
Instead, I whispered quietly into the night.
"You're infuriating when you're awake, you know that?" I said, eyes heavy with exhaustion. "Cold. Arrogant. Always trying to get under my skin."
No response. Just the soft rhythm of his breath.
"But like this…" My voice faltered. "You don't look like the beast everyone says you are."
You look like a boy who was never allowed to be one.
I closed my eyes for a second. Just a second. But the wind was warm, and the silence was softer than I expected.
And my thoughts…
They swirled like a storm.
Is this who you really are, Kairus?
Or is this just what you became to survive?
Why do I care what the answer is?
My lashes fluttered.
Sleep pulled at me, slow and gentle.
And before I could stop myself, I whispered one last thing into the dark.
"…I'll stay. Just for tonight."
__
Kairus' POV :
Blood.
It soaked through the fabric of her dress, pooling beneath her body.
Her hand reached out to me. Trembling. Desperate.
"Kairus…"
Gunshots echoed.
I want to move. I want to scream. But I just stand there—ten years old again. Small. Weak. Afraid.
I was frozen. Helpless. My father's silhouette in the doorway—a monster in a tailored suit, the devil in daylight.
My mother's eyes wide with fear. With pain.
With love.
And then—blank.
---
I jolted awake, a strangled breath tearing from my throat.
The bedroom was dark.
Sweat clung to my skin. My heart thundered like a caged animal, aching behind my ribs. For a moment, I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think.
My shirt's damp. The bandages bite into my ribs with every movement, but I don't care.
I run a hand down my face, grounding myself in the present.
I'm not there. She's not here. She's long dead.
I look around, disoriented, until—
I saw her.
Curled in the armchair. The throw slipping off her shoulders. Her lashes cast soft shadows over her cheeks. Raven.
Still here.
I pressed a hand over my chest, grounding myself. She's here. She's safe.
She stayed.
Even after everything. She stayed.
I don't know what possesses me—maybe it's the way her presence cuts through the panic still clawing at my throat—but I move before I can stop myself.
Every step toward her sends a dull throb through my body. My stitches pull, my side screams in protest, but I keep going.
I kneel in front of her, arms slipping under her knees and back before I can even think about what I'm doing.
She's so warm.
So damn warm.
She stirs slightly, murmuring something under her breath, but doesn't wake. She just leans instinctively into my chest.
I carry her to the bed and lay her down gently. The blanket slips again, so I pull it back up, tucking it around her. Her brows relax as she settles into the mattress, a small sigh escaping her lips.
God, she's beautiful like this.
Not in the way people usually throw that word around. Not perfect. Not polished. But real. Human. Safe.
Without thinking, I slide in beside her.
I leave a gap between us, careful not to wake her. But my fingers itch to reach for her. Just a little closer. Just to make sure she's real.
I stare at the ceiling, her soft breathing beside me the only sound in the room.
And for the first time in years… I don't feel alone.
Her breathing is steady beside me. Safe. Unaware of the war clawing beneath my ribs.
Is this what love feels like?
This ache in my chest that won't quiet.
Or is it something else entirely?
Something darker.
I've killed men for less than what she makes me feel.
So what the hell is this?
Obsession?
Weakness?
She crept past every wall I built, and I let her. I wanted her to.
And now—
Now I don't know if I want to protect her…
Or keep her like a secret no one else can touch.
I close my eyes, letting the silence settle around us like a wound I can't name.
Whatever this is…
It's dangerous.
And I don't think I know how to stop.