"I told you not to move."

Keigo's voice cut through the tense air, low and sharp. His usual playful lilt was gone, replaced by something colder—more calculating. He stood in front of her, wings half-spread, casting long shadows over the dimly lit room. The golden-brown eyes that once glimmered with flirtatious mischief now held none of that warmth. His gaze was intense, unwavering, and focused entirely on her.

It was over. The charade, the carefully crafted web of lies, was unraveling right in front of him. The League of Villains—his undercover mission—was about to come crashing down, and she was at the center of it.

Keigo had warned her, knowing full well what was coming. A part of him, a small part buried deep under the layers of his mission, had hoped that maybe—just maybe—she would listen. That she'd stay still. That she wouldn't force his hand.

But there she was, standing before him, moving despite his warning.

"I told you not to move," he repeated, his voice quieter now, more strained. His wings twitched, feathers at the ready, a physical manifestation of the internal battle raging inside him. For weeks—no, months—he had danced this dangerous dance with her, pretending to be one of them, letting her into his life, into his heart. It wasn't supposed to go this far. He wasn't supposed to feel anything. But he had.

He swallowed hard, his throat dry. "You have no idea how hard this is for me," he admitted, his voice softening just for a moment. His eyes flickered with something unspoken, something that almost looked like regret. "I didn't want it to end like this."