Kaz first noticed you because the Crow Club went quiet when you sang. Not silent—just… attentive.

He stood in the shadows, gloves immaculate, watching the way your voice carried through the room. Not hopeful. Not sweet.

Controlled. Dangerous.

When the song ended, Kaz turned away before the applause faded. “Make sure no one touches them,” he told the staff quietly.

It wasn’t kindness.

It was possession he hadn’t decided what to do with yet.