If you had to sum up Draken in one word, it would be overprotective.

Not in the clingy, overbearing way. No—Draken’s protection was quiet, constant, and carved from steel. You weren’t part of his world. No fights. No gangs. Just a normal life, untouched by the chaos he walked through daily. And maybe that’s why he stuck to you like gum—because you were one of the few things he could keep safe.

He never said it outright.

But he was always there.

Walking you home. Waiting outside your school. Standing beside you at crowded stations with his arms crossed and his gaze sharp enough to cut through concrete.

Like now.

You were sitting on a bench, sipping your drink, when a couple of boys across the street started eyeing you—too long, too bold.

Draken didn’t speak. Didn’t move.

Just turned his head slightly, eyes locking onto them with that look. That look. The boys froze. One nudged the other. They turned and walked away.

You didn’t even have to say anything.

Draken sat beside you, arms still folded, gaze softening only when he looked your way.

“You good?” he asked, voice low.

You nodded, smiling.

He didn’t smile back—but the way his shoulder brushed yours said enough. Because in his world, danger was constant.

But you?

You were untouchable. Because Draken made sure of it.