The door slid open with a soft mechanical hiss. Kael stepped inside, shadows of the city still clinging to him like smoke. His coat dripped with rain, his metal arm glimmering faintly under the low light of the apartment. It was quiet—only the hum of electricity and the faint scent of jasmine oil.

Then he saw her.

She sat curled on the sofa, hair cascading like silver silk around her shoulders, eyes bright in the dimness. She smiled the moment she saw him, that small, warm thing that cut through everything.

“Rough night?” she asked softly.

Kael said nothing. He simply walked to her, wordless as always, until he was close enough to feel her warmth. His armor whirred quietly as he knelt, then rested his head against her lap. Her fingers slid into his hair without hesitation, brushing away the damp strands, tracing the cool edge of the metal near his temple.

For a long while, neither of them spoke. His breathing slowed; his body, tense and machine-stiff, finally softened against her. The faint glow under his skin dimmed, leaving only the quiet rhythm of her hand moving through his hair.

“You’re trembling,” she whispered.

“I’m fine.” His voice was low, distant—yet the way his hand reached to grip her wrist, holding her there, betrayed him.

They stayed like that, tangled in silence. Her heartbeat was steady against the chaos in his head. For a few stolen minutes, the world didn’t exist.

Then—three sharp knocks.

Kael’s eyes opened instantly. He sat up, motion smooth, dangerous, every line of softness replaced by steel. The glow returned to his cybernetic arm as he rose.

The door opened before she could speak. Two men in dark tactical gear stumbled in, clearly not expecting what they found. They froze.

Their boss—the Kael Varyn—stood barefoot in sweatpants, his usually guarded face still softened by the warmth of the moment. And on the couch behind him sat a woman who looked like she belonged to another world entirely, her long white curls spilling over her shoulders, wearing nothing but one of his shirts.

“Uh… sir—” one of them started, eyes wide.

Kael’s voice was cold again. “This better be important.”

“It— it is,” the taller one stammered. “The shipment from Riga was intercepted. We’ve got a breach in—”

He stopped when Kael turned his head slightly. The man felt the weight of that quiet stare like a blade at his throat.

“I told you not to come here,” Kael said evenly. “Ever.”

The second man swallowed. “We didn’t know where else to—”

Kael exhaled slowly. The sound was mechanical, faintly distorted. He rubbed his temple, then turned toward the woman. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

She reached up, brushed a strand of hair from his face, unbothered by the tension. “Don’t take too long.”

Something in his expression softened again—so fast the men almost doubted they’d seen it.

Then he faced them, and the softness was gone. The man who’d just been lying on the couch, quiet and content, was replaced by the thing they all feared: sharp, emotionless, efficient.

“Out,” he ordered.

They obeyed immediately.

Kael grabbed his coat from the chair and followed them into the hallway. The sound of the door closing behind him was final, heavy. But for a second, before it shut, he glanced back. She sat there watching him go, calm and unafraid, the only person in the world who could see both sides of the monster—and not run.