The second he saw you surrounded — blood in your mouth, a blade at your back — Kaz snapped. No plans. No escape routes. Just rage.

He slammed his cane into the closest skull, eyes locked on you across the chaos. The docks burned. Bodies fell. But nothing else mattered. Not territory. Not gold. Just you.

Someone grabbed you. Kaz was there in seconds — knife to throat, voice low. “Touch her again, and you don’t leave this dock breathing.”

You looked up at him, breathless. “You’re bleeding,” you said.

“So are you,” he answered, chest heaving. “But I’m not the one who matters.”