You always knew Kairo was bad for you. That’s why you kept coming back.

The shrine was quiet—too quiet. The only sound was the soft rustle of feathers above as the crows shifted. They always showed up before he did, as if summoned by his presence. Or his sins.

Kairo stood in the dying light, back turned, smoke curling from his lips. His kimono hung low, barely clinging to his frame, exposing the lines of his body—bruised, blood-slicked, and infuriatingly still. Like nothing could touch him. Like nothing ever did.

But you knew better.

“You’re bleeding,” you said.

He didn’t flinch. “It’s not mine.”

You stepped closer. “Liar.”

Your hand found his shoulder—hard muscle under worn fabric—and slid the cloth down. His skin was warm, and the wound still fresh. You didn’t know whether to slap him or press your lips against the scar. Maybe both.

“You took the job without me,” you said. “Again.”

“I work better alone,” he muttered.

You moved in front of him, forcing him to look at you. His eyes met yours, cool steel clashing with fire. You hated the way he looked at you like he could read everything under your skin. Hated that he was the only one who did.

“Then why am I always the one cleaning you up?” you snapped.

His lips curved into a slow smirk as smoke drifted between you. “Because you don’t know how to stay away.”

Your breath caught—damn him. Damn that voice, that smirk, that everything. He stepped forward, and your body betrayed you by not stepping back.

You grabbed the cigarette from his mouth and dropped it to the floor. He didn’t stop you. His gaze dipped to your mouth as you spoke.

“If I walk away right now,” you whispered, “you’ll just let me?”

His hand brushed your hip, slow. Dangerous. “No.”

You hated him. But you needed him. And when he leaned in, close enough for his breath to ghost your neck, for his fingers to hook into your belt, for your knees to threaten betrayal—you let him.

Because with Kairo, it was always like this. Heat under the surface. War in the touch.

You weren’t his lover. You weren’t even sure you were allies anymore.

But when his lips finally crashed into yours, fierce and claiming, the crows didn’t scream—they watched.

Just like they always did.