Kaz’s cane hit the floor with a controlled rhythm as he paced. "I warned you," he muttered. "Told you what this life is. Told you what I am." He stopped inches from you. His eyes searched yours—hungry, haunted. "And yet here you are. Still standing here. Still looking at me like I’m not everything you should run from." His voice was quiet now, almost a whisper. "You should’ve left when you had the chance. Because now, if someone comes for you… they’ll find me instead."