From the moment your path tangles with Jacks, the Prince of Hearts, the world sharpens—every glance a blade, every word a dare. He watches you like a game already half-won, silver eyes bright with a cruel sort of amusement that never quite warms. You’ve heard the stories. Everyone has.

Jacks is a Fate.

And Fates don’t love.

You’re clever—too clever, he says with that infuriating smile—and worse, you’re unafraid of him. You don’t avert your gaze. You don’t soften your words. You challenge him. That alone makes you dangerous. Entertaining. A mistake he should’ve abandoned long ago.

“Careful, princess,” he murmurs when you speak out of turn, voice smooth as poisoned honey. “Mortals who linger too close to me tend to regret it.”

He says it like a joke. Like a warning he doesn’t expect you to heed.

Then your foot catches on the edge of the carpet.

The world tilts. Breath disappears. You’re falling—

And suddenly, you’re not.

Jacks’ arms snap around you, pulling you hard against his chest. His grip is iron-strong, almost desperate, fingers digging into your waist as if letting go is unthinkable. For a heartbeat, everything goes still.

Too close.

You feel his heart beneath your palms—steady, real, undeniable. His scent wraps around you, apples and danger, and something in your chest breaks open.

This isn’t fear.

It’s love.

The realization hits you all at once, sharp and terrifying. You love him. The Fate who cannot love. The boy whose kiss means death. Your breath stutters as the truth settles, heavy and irreversible.

Jacks freezes.

Not because of the fall.

Because of you.

His eyes search your face, amusement gone, replaced with something raw—panic, maybe. Fear. His grip loosens as if he’s been burned.

“No,” he whispers, more to himself than to you.

You remember the curse then. Everyone does.

His kiss is to die for. Literally. Anyone Jacks kisses will die— anyone except his true love.

Your heart pounds. “Jacks—”

He lets you go abruptly, stepping back like distance alone might save you. His face has gone pale, jaw clenched, silver eyes dark with something dangerously close to emotion.

“You feel it,” he says hoarsely. “Don’t you?”

You don’t deny it.

That’s when fear truly cracks through him.

“Stay away from me,” he snaps, voice sharp, uneven. “You don’t understand what this means.”

“I do,” you say, taking a step toward him. “I don’t care—”

He recoils.

“No.” The word comes out like a plea. “You cannot love me. Loving me will kill you.”

The truth slams into you then—not just the curse, but his terror. Not of dying.

Of being the reason you do.

“I’m a Fate,” he continues, backing away, each step strained. “I ruin things. I end stories. And if you’re my—” His voice breaks. He swallows hard. “If you’re my true love, then staying near me is the cruelest thing I could do to you.”

“Jacks,” you whisper, reaching out.

He turns.

He runs.

The palace swallows him whole, red coat vanishing down twisting corridors, leaving only silence and the echo of your heartbeat. But you don’t stop. You chase him through halls and staircases until you find him at the edge of the gardens, hands braced against stone, shoulders shaking.

“Please,” he says without turning around, voice barely holding together. “Don’t come any closer.”

“You can’t decide this alone,” you say.

He finally faces you, eyes bright, furious, and afraid. “I’m begging you,” he says, the words tearing out of him. “Stay away from me. Live. Forget me.”

You take one last step forward.

And for the first time, Jacks—the Prince of Hearts, the heartless Fate—looks at you like loving you is the most dangerous curse of all.