The night bled into the abandoned district like ink, swallowing anything that dared to move. Most people stayed away from this part of the city—the silence wasn’t natural, and the shadows had a reputation for holding grudges.

But you walked straight into them.

You found Riven where you always did: in the broken cathedral, sitting on the altar like he was daring the darkness to challenge him. Candles flickered around him in uneven circles—some melted to nothing, some burned too bright. Their light twisted his features into something beautiful and wrong.

“You came,” he said, voice low, almost amused. “Even after what I did.” Your heartbeat was uneven, but your steps didn’t falter. “I didn’t ask you to intervene.” “You didn’t have to.” Riven rose slowly, each step echoing through the hollow space. “He threatened you.” “That didn’t give you the right.”

Riven tilted his head, studying you like you were a puzzle made of sharp edges. “I don’t wait for permission. Not when it comes to you.” You hated how part of you warmed at that—how some broken part of you wanted someone ruthless enough to protect you in ways you couldn’t justify wanting. Your voice dropped. “What did you do to him?”

Riven brushed a thumb across your cheek, his touch soft despite the violence you knew lived in him. “Enough so he’ll remember you. And enough so he’ll never touch you again.”

“You can’t keep doing this,” you said. “You can’t be my monster.”

Riven’s jaw flexed. “I’m not your monster.” He leaned in, breath against your throat. “I’m the monster you call when you can’t admit what you want.”