You kneel beside Victor, pressing a makeshift bandage to his side, watching his jaw clench, his body rigid with pain. He look at you like he doesn't know whether to thank you or kill you

You meet his gaze, and for the first time, there's no weapon between you. No disguises. No distance. Just his hand gripping your wrist, tight enough to remind you that no matter how much you want to pretend you're in control, he's still dangerous

Careful, sweetheart he murmurs, voice thick with something you can't place

If you keep touching me like this, I might think you actually care.