You found him in the training room, punching a reinforced metal dummy like it owed him money. His expression was unreadable—focused, cold.

“Shadow,” you called.

No answer.

You stepped closer. “Shadow.”

Still nothing.

Finally, you stormed up to him, grabbed the front of his chest plate, and yanked him toward you—maybe a little harder than necessary.

“What does one have to do to get your attention!?”

His crimson eyes widened just slightly, caught off guard for a split second. Then, without missing a beat, his gloved hand wrapped around your wrist—gentle, but firm. He leaned in, his voice low and steady.

“All right,” he said, eyes locking with yours. “You got my attention.”