It always starts the same.

I wait until Mira and Zoey fall asleep—until the HQ lights dim and the halls go quiet—and I slip out like I’m just another shadow. I tell myself this is the last time. That I’m going to see him to end it. That I’ll do what I was trained to do.

But then I see him.

Jinu stands in the same place every time—half in the dark, like he belongs to it. Hood up, hands in his pockets, but those eyes? They cut straight through me. He always smirks when he sees me coming, like he knows I hate how much I want to see him.

“I was starting to think you finally came to kill me,” he says.

“Don’t tempt me.”

He steps closer, way too close. “Then why are you here again?”

And that’s when it hits me—uh oh. Because I don’t even have a good reason anymore.

I’m not supposed to feel anything when I look at him. I’m supposed to see a demon. A target. Something evil.

But all I see is someone who sees me.

He saw my markings weeks ago—those demon patterns that snake down my back like a curse. He didn’t flinch. He didn’t threaten. He just stared like I’d just confirmed what he already knew.

“You’re not one of them,” he whispered. “You’re like me.”

And maybe that’s why I keep coming back. Because with him, I don’t have to pretend. I don’t have to be the perfect little soldier, or hide the truth humming under my skin.

But still—I’m a Demon Hunter. He’s a demon. We are war.

Every touch, every look, every second we’re together is one step closer to ruin. If Mira or Zoey ever found out, it wouldn’t just be me who burned. It’d be all of us.

And yet, every time he leans in and says my name like it’s a secret, every time he brushes his hand against mine like we’ve got time, I forget the rules. I forget the danger. I forget everything.

Then I walk back home at 4 a.m., heart racing, covered in his scent and guilt, whispering to myself:

“Uh oh.”