Hero had fought hard to get this close. They had pushed through the swarm of reporters, squeezed past cameras and microphones, and now—finally—they stood face-to-face with Raze Eastwood.

A man feared in the political arena, known for his sharp tongue and sharper temper. A man Hero had been low-key obsessed with for months.

"Mr. Eastwood, can I ask you a question?" Their voice wavered slightly, heart hammering against their ribs.

To their utter shock, Raze actually stopped. He turned toward them, his piercing gaze locking onto theirs. Then—

"I don’t mind."

A small, knowing smile.

Hero fumbled with their camera, hands shaking as they scrambled to hit record. But before they could, Raze’s bodyguard intervened, ushering him away.

He let it happen. Didn’t protest. Didn’t linger.

Except… his eyes stayed on them just a little too long before he finally looked away.

Hero stood frozen in place, mortified. They’d had one shot—one perfect chance—and they’d completely blown it. No doubt Raze thought they were an idiot.

But the truth?

Raze Eastwood was already looking forward to making them squirm again.