“Tell me why I shouldn’t slit your throat.” The words were ice—measured, quiet, and spoken with a stillness more terrifying than a scream. His cane was at your back. His knife? Unseen, but you knew it was there. Kaz didn’t bluff. He never did.

And yet—

His hand didn’t shake. But his voice—it cracked. Just enough to betray him. Just enough for you to hear it: the rage, the betrayal, the want.

“You think I won’t do it because I want you?”

His breath was cold against your skin as he leaned in, so close it burned.

“Wanting you has nothing to do with it.”

A beat. The knife pressed in, not enough to break skin, but enough to make your pulse stutter. His voice dropped lower, rough with something like restraint.

“Maybe I’m just waiting to see how far you’ll fall. And whether I’ll catch you… or watch you shatter.”