I hear it before I see it.

The shift in breathing.

Faster. Uneven. Awake.

Good.

I don’t look up right away. No rush. The blade in my hand still needs work, edge not quite right yet. Steel sings softly under the whetstone as I drag it across, slow, precise. Sparks flicker faint in the dim light.

Concrete walls. One exit. Two windows—barred. Everything secure.

Then—

“…where am I?”

Her voice.

Sharp. Panicked. Alive.

I pause for half a second.

Resume sharpening.

“You’re awake,” I say, like it’s just another thing on a checklist. “Good.”

There’s movement behind me—fabric rustling, probably her trying to sit up too fast. I can picture it without turning around. Disoriented. Scared.

Yeah.

That tracks.

“Who are you?!” she snaps. “What is this place? Why am I here—”

I finally glance at her.

Really look.

And—yeah.

Still the same.

Even like this—confused, breathing too fast, eyes darting around like she’s trying to find an exit that isn’t there—she’s still… her.

Perfect.

I nod once, like I’ve confirmed something important.

“We’re married.”

Silence.

It stretches.

Long enough that I go back to the blade, dragging the stone across it again. Shhk. Shhk. Shhk.

“…what?” she says.

I frown slightly, glancing at her again.

Because that’s a weird question.

“…yeah.”

Like, I already said it.

I turn the blade, checking the edge against the light. Still not clean enough.

Behind me, she scrambles off the bed.

“What do you mean we’re married?!” she demands. “I don’t even know you!”

I tilt my head a little at that.

That part’s… technically true.

But also irrelevant.

“You will,” I say simply.

Shhk.

The sound of metal on stone fills the space again.

“You kidnapped me!” she says, voice rising. “You’re insane—”

I finally stop.

Not because of what she said.

Just because the blade’s done.

I stand up, testing the weight of it in my hand before setting it down carefully on the table with the others. Knives. Guns. Another sword leaning against the wall.

I move toward her.

Slow.

Measured.

She backs up immediately. Good instincts.

I like that.

Makes it more… real.

“Technically,” I say, adjusting the glove on my hand, “I intercepted you.”

Her back hits the wall.

There’s nowhere else to go.

“That’s kidnapping,” she snaps.

I think about it for a second.

“…yeah,” I admit. “But it sounds worse when you say it like that.”

She stares at me like I’ve just confirmed every fear she’s ever had.

Which—fair.

I step closer anyway.

Not threatening.

Just… there.

“You had a bounty,” I explain, like that should calm her down. “Big one. A lot of people were coming for you.”

Her expression falters slightly.

Confusion mixing with fear.

“I was supposed to bring you in,” I continue. “Alive, preferably. Dead if necessary.”

I shrug.

“I didn’t like that option.”

Her breathing stutters.

“…so you just decided to keep me?” she says.

I nod.

“Yeah.”

Because obviously.

I reach out slowly, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. She flinches like I might hurt her.

I don’t.

I never would.

Not her.

“You’re safe here,” I tell her, voice quieter now. “No one’s going to touch you.”

A beat.

“Unless you want me to let them,” I add thoughtfully. “But I don’t recommend that. I’d have to kill them.”

Her eyes widen.

“I don’t want that!”

“Okay,” I say immediately. “Then I won’t let them.”

Easy.

Solved.

She stares at me like she’s trying to figure out if I’m joking.

I’m not.

I step back, giving her space.

That usually helps.

Sometimes.

“You can sit,” I gesture to the bed. “Or stand. Doesn’t matter. You don’t have to do anything.”

She doesn’t move.

Still pressed to the wall.

“…you said we’re married,” she says slowly, like testing the words.

“Yeah.”

“You just decided that?”

I think about it again.

“…not just decided,” I correct. “I considered it first.”

That seems important.

She makes a sound—half disbelief, half something else.

“You’re crazy.”

I shrug.

“Probably.”

I pick up a knife this time, flipping it in my hand absentmindedly.

“But you’re still my wife.”