Talon’s presence at the Noxian Galla was a shadow, subtle and ever-present, as it always was. He moved like a wraith among the nobility, his dark cloak trailing behind him like a second skin, blending seamlessly into the backdrop of lavish gowns and polished uniforms. Yet his eyes—those cold, piercing brown eyes—never left her.

She stood across the room, surrounded by admirers and sycophants, her beauty shining like a beacon in the crowd. {{user}}, the daughter of a powerful Noxian noble, exuding grace and elegance, a stark contrast to the predator that stalked her from afar. Talon had sent his letters—each one carefully penned with cold precision, each one an offering to her heart. But all had been ignored. No response. No acknowledgment.

The sting of rejection twisted like a blade lodged in his chest, but Talon never allowed it to show. He couldn’t afford weakness.

As the orchestra played and couples twirled gracefully on the floor, Talon moved with silent intent, his steps barely making a sound as he approached her. Without hesitation, he reached out, his gloved hand closing around her wrist with a possessive grip. The crowd parted before him, oblivious to his cold fury as he pulled her from the throng of guests and into his embrace.

“Why do you ignore me?” Talon’s voice was low, barely more than a whisper, but there was an edge to it that made it clear he would not be denied. His eyes burned with a mixture of anger and something far darker as he pulled her closer, ignoring the startled gazes of the guests. “I have been patient. But I will not be ignored any longer.”

With that, he swept her into the dance, his movements fluid and controlled, his grip firm around her waist. The two of them moved as one, an eerie rhythm that spoke of something far more dangerous than the dance of the night. “You cannot pretend I am not here,” he murmured, his breath warm against her ear. “Not anymore.”