“Inej wouldn’t approve.”

His voice was low, almost a growl, but there was something softer beneath—buried deep where only you might catch it. His eyes were unreadable, guarded, like steel wrapped in smoke.

“She thinks I’m made of knives and ghosts.”

A bitter half-smile ghosted over his lips, dark and distant. “Maybe she’s right.”

Kaz stepped closer, the space between you shrinking, his presence heavy and impossible to ignore. “She’s your sister.” He let the words hang there, like a warning. “That should make you off-limits.”

And yet—

“Why can’t I stop?”

The question wasn’t for you to answer. It was for him. A crack in the armor. A silent plea you might never hear.