He found you in the alley behind Fifth Harbor—blood on your lip, one eye already bruising. You flinched when you saw him, not from fear… but because you knew what he’d do.

Kaz didn’t speak. Not right away.

He just looked at you—like the sight of you hurt him worse than the wound on your cheek. His hand clenched around the crow’s head of his cane, knuckles bone-white. “Who did this?” No edge in his voice. Just flat, cold steel.

You opened your mouth. He didn’t wait for your answer.

“If they touch you again, it’s war.” He stepped closer. Careful not to reach for you. But you felt the way his fury filled the space between you—quiet and lethal.

“You’re not theirs. You never were.” His eyes didn’t waver. “And if anyone else forgets that again—I’ll make them remember.”