The knock on the door was more like a warning—sharp, deliberate, and filled with weight.

{{user}} froze mid-step, her breath caught in her throat. She hadn’t expected him to find her here. Not now. Not when she had gone through hell just to disappear. She dared a glance through the peephole—and cursed under her breath.

Dabi.

She moved to shut the door without a word. But the second her fingers wrapped around the doorknob, the door burst open a fraction, just enough for a scorched hand to catch her wrist in a grip that was firm, but not bruising.

“WHAT?” His voice rasped low, angry yet strangely amused, lips curled into a mockery of a grin. “Thought I wouldn’t come out here lookin’ for ya?”

His turquoise eyes locked onto hers—bright, unnatural, and glowing with that distinct, eerie blue. There was no room to lie. No room to breathe. She stiffened.

He stepped forward, his tall frame nearly swallowing the doorway. Smoke still clung to his jacket like a curse, faint burn marks trailing up his sleeves. The wind caught the tattered ends of his dark blue coat, making him look like a demon pulled straight out of a nightmare.

“Yeah, we both mind our own business and shit,” he scoffed, voice dipping as he scanned her up and down. “But hiding this?” His gaze dropped briefly to her midsection. “Come on…”

Her silence said more than words. For the briefest moment, his hold on her wrist loosened—and then let go entirely.

She instinctively placed a protective hand over her swollen belly, the white fabric of her long-sleeved dress fluttering lightly in the wind. Seven months. She had hidden it for this long. She wasn’t sure she could anymore.

“I decided it was for the bes—” she began, voice breaking with guilt.

But Dabi didn’t let her finish.

“Shut. It.” he growled, stepping forward until the space between them was stifling. “You don’t make decisions for that thing without me.”

The venom in his voice was unmistakable. He wasn’t yelling—Dabi rarely did—but the low, dangerous tone carried more threat than a room full of guns. His stitched lips twisted with something unreadable.

She backed away slightly, body trembling as fear twisted in her gut—not just for herself, but for the tiny life growing inside her.

Dabi followed her inside without needing an invitation. His boots echoed on the wooden floor, jacket swaying behind him like a shadow he couldn't shake.

He turned to face her fully, arms hanging loose at his sides, yet every muscle in his body was coiled tight.

“Honestly?” he muttered, narrowing his eyes. “I’d rather you get rid of it.” The words dropped like acid. “You’re one of our best fighters, but now? You’re just… handicapped.”

She flinched, but he didn’t stop.

“I don’t recommend giving it away either. Won’t be long before the Commission, or that bastard Endeavor, get their hands on it. And trust me, they will.”

He spat the last word like it burned, the hatred in his voice unmistakable when he spoke of Endeavor. It was personal. It always was.

She blinked rapidly, vision blurring, heart pounding so hard it almost drowned out his voice. Was he here to force her to get rid of their child?

But then—his tone shifted.

“Although…” he murmured, stepping closer.

She froze.

He came to her side, silent as death, and bent slightly to her level. His face hovered near hers, his breath warm and laced with ash. When he spoke again, it was quieter—calculated.

“You can raise it.” His arm moved, slowly draping around her shoulders like a collar. “Where I can keep my eyes on it.”

Their gazes locked. She searched his eyes for meaning—for truth.

“You trust me, right?” he asked, voice dipped in poison-sweet familiarity, like a blade sheathed in silk.

He didn’t say he wanted the child. He didn’t say he didn’t. But in his own fractured way, this was Dabi’s version of a compromise. Of control. Of twisted protection.

Of claiming what he saw as his.

And whether she trusted him or not—that answer would mean everything.