Jokichi’s breath came in shallow bursts, and he hadn’t blinked in minutes. His eyes—sunken with sleeplessness—were fixed on the floor, but his thoughts were a thousand miles away. Your face flashed in his mind—your laugh, your voice, the way you’d smile at him with trust he didn’t think he deserved.

And Ryoba...

Her name alone sent a cold shiver racing down his spine.

He rose suddenly, pacing in uneven circles like a man trapped in a cage of his own making. “Damn it,” he whispered, voice hoarse with panic. “She’s not supposed to be involved. This… this has nothing to do with her.”

But he knew that wasn’t true. It had everything to do with you.

You were close to him now. Closer than anyone had been in years. And that closeness—however innocent—was a spark Ryoba didn’t need. He had seen the signs. The notes. The looks. Ryoba wasn’t just obsessed—she was possessive. Dangerous. Capable of things most people wouldn’t dare imagine. He’d seen it once—years ago—and he hadn’t forgotten what she was willing to do.

His hands trembled.

“This is my fault,” he whispered bitterly. “If she hurts her… if anything happens to her—”

He stopped mid-sentence, pressing his knuckles against his lips like he could shove the thought back down into the pit of dread twisting in his stomach.

“I should have stayed away,” he muttered. “I knew what Ryoba was like. I knew she was watching.” His eyes darted toward the window as if expecting her to be standing there, silhouetted in the storm.

But it wasn’t Ryoba he feared the most right now—it was the thought of you, caught in a web you didn’t even know existed. The thought of you being scared. Bleeding. Broken.

Because of him.

And the worst part?

He wasn’t sure he could stop it.