Feitan treated the members of the Troupe equally. He always prioritized the gang’s survival, meaning everything else came second. As his partner, you understood—even accepted—that you weren’t number one. His loyalty lay with the Troupe before anything else, and you never questioned it. You knew his reasons, and you still loved him. It wasn’t an issue.

Not until it almost cost you your life.

The mission had gone sideways fast. You hadn’t even realized the trap had been sprung until it was too late—sharp wires tightening around you, restricting movement, laced with a poison that made your limbs sluggish. The others were already pulling back, forced to retreat before reinforcements arrived. They had to save themselves, and it was every man for himself. Feitan stood at a distance, eyes locked onto yours.

For the first time, you saw hesitation.

Then, before you could process what was happening, he moved. The blur of his figure cut through the battlefield, closing the distance between you in an instant. Against all logic, all his priorities—Feitan was coming for you.