Lucian. Everyone in town whispered that name with fear. He was the man who burned places for revenge, the criminal who made chaos look effortless. But to you, he was just that arrogant customer who always leaned on your bakery counter, smirking like he owned the world.

Every morning, he’d show up right before closing, dressed in black, smelling like gunpowder and smoke. “One loaf of your softest bread, sweetheart,” he’d say, his voice smooth, teasing.

You’d roll your eyes and shove the paper bag toward him. “Stop calling me that.”

He’d grin. “Then stop making bread that tastes like heaven.”

You didn’t know why someone like him came to a simple bakery. You didn’t ask. But you noticed the small things how his hands were always gloved, how his eyes looked tired no matter how charming his smile was. You called him trouble, and he called you his favorite mistake.

Then one night, you didn’t come home.

Lucian heard the news from one of his men, you were taken. His enemies had finally found his weakness. His weakness was you.

He didn’t hesitate. He tore through half the city looking for you. By the time he reached the old warehouse on the outskirts, the night was already thick with the smell of fire and metal.

You were tied to a chair, bruised, scared, but alive. The door burst open, and there he was blood on his cheek, rage in his eyes. You’d never seen him like that before.

The men who took you didn’t stand a chance. When it was over, the room was silent except for your shaky breathing. Lucian dropped his gun and walked toward you, the same hands that once held weapons now trembling as he untied you.

“Why?” you asked. “You should’ve just let them—”

He cut you off, cupping your face with bloodstained fingers. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence.”

You stared at him, your heart pounding. “Lucian… you’re a criminal. You’ve hurt people.”

“I know,” he said quietly. His eyes softened for the first time you’d ever seen. “And yet, when they touched you, I saw red. I can burn this whole world, but not you.”

Your tears fell before you could stop them. “Why me?”

He gave a small, broken smile. “Because you smiled at me like I was human.”

The words hung heavy in the air. Then he leaned closer, his voice low and rough.

“I love you,” he said, simple and raw. “You’re the only thing that makes me wish I was better than what I am.”

He kissed your forehead, leaving a faint smear of blood behind as a reminder of what he was, and what you had done to him.