Slade didn’t share.

Not weapons. Not territory. Not targets.

Hunger was no different.

For a long time, it hadn’t needed to be.

The city below moved like it always did—crowds slipping through dim streets, unaware of the predators watching from above. The rooftop held the cold of the night, wind cutting through empty space as Slade stood at the edge, gaze fixed downward with quiet precision.

Beside him, she was just as still.

Just as focused.

The difference was—

Tonight, neither of them moved alone.

Slade’s head tilted slightly, listening, picking out the rhythm beneath the noise—the steady pulse of something living, something close.

Something theirs.

“You feel it,” he said low, not a question.

His eye shifted briefly toward her before returning to the street.

“Heartbeat’s stronger on the left side of the block.”

A pause.

Then he stepped back from the edge, movements slow, deliberate.

“We go together.”

Not a suggestion.

A decision made the same way he made all of them.

Clean.

Final.

He adjusted his gloves out of habit, though they weren’t necessary anymore, gaze sharpening as he tracked the movement below.

“Don’t rush it,” he added evenly. “You lose control, you make a mess.”

A faint shift in his stance.

Then—

“We’re not here to make a scene.”

The corner of his mouth pulled slightly, something darker behind it.

“Just dinner.”