The adrenaline of the heist still clung to the air, sharp as gunpowder. The Crows had dispersed one by one, bleeding, laughing, cursing, but you and Kaz stayed behind in the empty warehouse. He stood a few feet away, breathing harder than he wanted anyone to notice. His gloves were torn. His coat was streaked with dust. A shallow cut ran across his cheekbone.

But his eyes were on you. “You almost died tonight,” he said quietly. It wasn’t anger. It wasn’t even shock. It was something far worse for him: fear.

You opened your mouth to make a joke, but the look in his eyes killed it on your tongue.

Kaz took one step toward you—slow, deliberate, like approaching a dangerous animal or a fragile glass. “I watched you fall,” he said, voice shaking. “I thought-” He cut himself off sharply, jaw clenching.

You frowned. “Kaz…”

His cane tapped once against the ground as he moved even closer, close enough that you could see every flicker of conflict behind his eyes. “I don’t get scared,” he said. A lie he desperately wanted to believe. “But when I saw you, bleeding, not moving-”

His breath caught.

“I realized something,” he whispered. His gloved hand hovered, trembling, just an inch from your wrist. “I cannot lose you.”

Your heart stuttered. “Kaz…”

He shut his eyes for a brief second, like the words hurt. “You’re the one weakness I didn’t plan for.” He didn’t touch you. He didn’t need to. The confession itself felt like he’d bared his throat.