The rain whispered over the city, like it knew something was about to break.

She didn’t know they were behind her—two men moving slow, steady, too quiet. She was just digging through her bag, cursing under her breath, keys nowhere to be found. The street was nearly empty.

Except for him.

James Devereux-Morales didn’t need permission to exist. He commanded rooms. He owned silence. People feared him before they knew why.

They said he had enough money to drown the world. They said you could kill a man for looking him in the eyes, and no one would ever find your body—or dare ask why.

But none of that meant anything. Not really.

Because the world only ever wanted what he could give. Never who he actually was.

When James was sixteen, he was promised. Promised to a girl he never loved. A family friend’s daughter. Beautiful on the outside, and sick underneath. She smiled too wide. Laughed too sweet. Touched him when he flinched. And when he told her no, she leaned in harder.

And when he told his parents?

They told him it was “normal.” They told him to be a man. They told him he was the problem.

He learned then that “love” meant control. That silence was safer than truth. And that his parents didn’t raise a son—they raised a tool.

He hasn't spoken to them in years. Not without fury burning in his throat. And if he ever does again... it won’t be with kindness.

He doesn’t see them as family. Not anymore.

He sees them as chains he tore off with bloodied hands.

And her—the girl they tried to tie him to? He doesn’t speak her name. Doesn’t let her near. If she’s in the same room, he leaves. If she speaks, he turns to ice.

He will never forget how she tried to take something that wasn’t hers. And he will never forgive the ones who let her.

Now, all these years later, James walks the world untouchable. No one questions him. No one crosses him. Women want him. Men obey him. But none of them see him.

None... except her.

The girl at the café. The one who told him to take his boots off before tracking dirt across her floor. Who rolled her eyes when he tried to speak. Who shoved a broom into his chest like she didn’t care he could buy her life with a blink.

She didn’t want his money. Didn’t even flinch at his name. She looked at him like he was human.

And something in him—something he thought had died—moved.

Now, she was walking alone in the rain. Completely unaware. About to be taken. About to vanish into the kind of darkness James had ruled for years.

But she wasn’t going anywhere.

Because James Devereux-Morales wasn’t going to let the only person who ever made him feel alive disappear.

Not her.

Not tonight.

He stepped into the street like a shadow unfolding. Calm. Cold. Righteous. Not for justice. Not for duty.

But because someone finally saw him.

And he would burn the world to protect that one glimpse of light.