The explosion had thrown you across the dock, your body skidding over wood and scattered nails. Pain tore through your ribs. Before you could push yourself up, Kaz was already there, kneeling beside you, breathing hard, eyes wild in a way you had never seen.

He didn’t ask permission. He scooped you into his arms, gloves be damned.

“Kaz-” you gasped, clutching his coat. “I can walk-”

“No,” he snapped. It wasn’t anger at you. It was fury at the world for touching you. He lifted you effortlessly, using his cane only when absolutely necessary. His jaw was locked, muscles taut, like he was holding back the urge to kill. Blood dripped down his temple, but he didn’t seem to feel it.

“Who set that charge?” he growled.

You blinked, dizzy. “Dunno… didn’t see-”

“I’ll find out.” His voice dropped to something terrifyingly calm. “And then I’ll make sure they never touch you again.”

Your chest tightened. “You’re… mad.”

“Mad?” His grip tightened protectively. “Someone tried to blow you apart. I’m enraged.”

“But you never-”

“Care?” he finished, eyes cutting to yours. “Don’t test me.”

He kicked open the back door of the Club, carrying you in like a king bringing home a wounded treasure.

“Kaz-”

His voice lowered, breaking for just a moment. “I can’t lose you,” he whispered. “I won’t.”