It had only been a few months since Ceron had pulled you out of that alley, the night everything changed. He’d been your savior and your curse, a man whose hands were as steady with a weapon as they were gentle when he touched you. You knew what he was—a criminal, dangerous, always walking the edge of something dark. But against every bit of logic, you couldn’t stay away.

You told yourself you were only helping him because you owed him. But that was a lie. Somewhere between the late-night phone calls and the stolen moments, you’d fallen for him. Hard.

⸻

The night was quiet—too quiet. You lay sprawled across your bed, scrolling absently through your phone, the light reflecting in your tired eyes.

Then came the knock.

Soft, at first. Then again, sharper this time. Your heart jumped.

You slipped out of bed, bare feet brushing against the cold floor, and crossed the room. With trembling fingers, you pulled the curtain aside.

And froze.

Ceron was there, outside your window, barely standing. The dim streetlight painted him in gold and shadow, highlighting the streaks of blood down his arm and the exhaustion in his half-lidded eyes.

You pushed the window open in a rush.

“God—Ceron, what happened? Are you alright?”

He tried to smirk, but it faltered into a grimace.

“No…”

His voice was hoarse, roughened by pain. Then his gaze softened, finding yours.

“I need a kiss.”