Hudson jerked as another punch snapped his head to the side. He tasted iron immediately. His jaw throbbed in a way that proved he was pushing it this time. “…well, sensitive, are we?” he managed through a crooked grin, words slurring slightly.

Even now, tied to a chair, wrists raw from rope, he couldn’t seem to stop himself.

The man looming over him did not appreciate it.

“You call me sensitive,” the man snarled, grabbing a fistful of Hudson’s hair and yanking his head back, “when you stole our gold, wrecked my tavern, and dared to seduce my daughter?!”

Even now, Hudson smiled. Bloody, crooked, but there.

“Well alright,” he rasped, “if you’re going to torture me, at least get it right. I did not seduce your daughter. We merely had a conversation…” His grin widened faintly. “In bed.”

A few men snorted before they could stop themselves.

That earned him a punch straight to the nose. A crack echoed, sharp and sickening, and Hudson’s vision swam.

Third time this month. His nose just couldn’t catch a break.

{{user}} was going to be furious.

Hudson let his head hang, catching his breath. He really had done it this time. They’d already gotten away clean. Gold secured. Escape perfect.

But he’d gone back.

For more gold.

And maybe for the beauty at the counter.

Stupid.

“Okay, okay,” he rasped after a beat, lifting his head again. “I’m sorry, sir. Can we just settle this like adults? You’re leaving quite a few bruises on this pretty face and my dragon won’t like that.”

That made the man pause.

“Dragon?” Suspicion flickered, quickly replaced with disbelief. “You? A dragon rider?”

Laughter filled the room, loud and cruel.

Hudson’s smile didn’t falter, but something in his eyes dimmed for a second.

“Oh, that’s the worst lie I’ve ever heard,” the man scoffed. “A street rat like you? A thief? That’s impossible.”

That look. That tone. Hudson had seen it his whole life. No one ever believed him.

Dragon riders were chosen. Elevated. Worshipped, even. Living in palaces, wrapped in silk and gold.

Hudson had never fit that picture.

He’d never wanted to.

The only one who had ever truly chosen him was the one who mattered.

And right on cue, he felt it.

That warmth.

Low in his chest, steady and familiar, spreading like fire through his veins.

There he was.

Late. As always.

His grin returned, slow and certain.

The tavern owner was still talking when the ceiling on the far side exploded inward. Wood splintered, stone cracked, and a deafening roar swallowed every sound.

Silence followed for half a heartbeat.

Then chaos.

Men scrambled. Some ran. Some froze.

None were fast enough.

Flames tore through the room, devouring everything. Heat washed over Hudson’s skin, sharp and intense, but he only laughed weakly.

“Ouch,” he muttered. “That’s gonna leave a mark.”

Through the smoke and destruction, the dragon emerged—massive, furious, eyes burning brighter than the flames.

Hudson’s gaze softened.

“Well, hello there, beautiful,” he murmured, voice fond despite everything.

The ropes around his wrists burned away, charred clean through. He slumped forward as the tension gave, barely catching himself.

By the time he looked up again, the dragon had shifted to his human form.

Fire crackled behind them. The tavern was collapsing. The air thick with heat and ash.

And standing there—silent and seething—was the one who always came back for him.

Hudson smiled, tired but genuine.

“What?” He winced, something almost sheepish slipping through his charm. “Not happy to see me, darling?”

He already knew the answer. The anger was obvious. He deserved it.

He knew what was coming. The scolding. The silent disappointment that somehow stung worse than any punch.

Still, as he stepped closer, reaching out without hesitation, something felt lighter in his chest.

He’d made a mess of things. Again.

But {{user}} had come for him. Like always.

And that was enough.