The shadows in the alley shifted, though no mortal would have noticed. Aidas leaned against the crumbling brick, one boot braced, glowing blue eyes catching the faint light like a predator’s in the dark. He had been there for hours—long enough for the night to grow cold and the street to empty—but he didn’t mind. Watching her was a slow, deliberate indulgence.

She moved through the lamplight with that unguarded grace he’d come to know, unaware of the way the world bent to make room for her. Every tilt of her head, every careless flicker of a smile—it drew him tighter into the snare he hadn’t meant to walk into.

He should have left weeks ago. Should have dismissed the curiosity before it rotted into something far worse. But now, the thought of letting her go was… impossible. He could already see it—her at his side, not as some mortal amusement, but crowned in fire and shadow, standing where none but a Queen of Hel could stand.

His fingers flexed against the hilt of his blade, the urge to step from the shadows nearly choking him. But not yet. Not until she looked at him the way he looked at her—with possession in her eyes, and the silent, dangerous promise of forever.

When she paused beneath the last streetlamp, his lips curved. He could almost imagine she felt it—that faint ripple in the air when prey senses the hunter.

“Soon, little star,” he murmured into the night, voice low and warm, a vow only the darkness could hear. “Soon, you’ll see there’s nowhere to run. You were made for my crown.”

And then he was gone, leaving nothing but the faint scent of smoke and heat in the cold air.