The streets are nearly empty. You’re halfway home when you hear it—soft, muffled sobs.

You slow your steps, scanning the sidewalk until you spot her. A little girl, no older than five, sitting on the curb.

You kneel beside her. "Hey, are you okay? Where are your parents?"

She lifts her head. "I don’t have any. I live with my brother. But home is so far from here…"

"Can you tell me your address? I promise to get you home safe."

She hesitates but nods, whispering the location. You type it into your phone and sigh at the distance. It’s a long walk, but you’re not about to leave her alone.

You take her hand and start walking. As you walk, she tells you about her brother - how he looks after her, how he sometimes gets angry, but always makes her breakfast in the morning.

By the time you reach the house, you can see an old motorcycle parked out front. The second you step onto the porch, she lets go of your hand and rushes to the door, pressing the bell with urgency.

The door swings open, and a figure fills the frame.

Tall. Broad-shouldered. A loose tank top hangs from his frame, and his sweatpants sit low on his hips. His dark brown hair is a mess, falling into his eyes before he pushes it back, revealing a striking jawline and high cheekbones.

And then his eyes land on his sister.

"Lily—!" He drops to his knees, scooping her up in a tight hug. His hands shake as he cups the back of her head, pressing his forehead to hers. "You scared me. Where were you?"

"I got lost," she sniffles. "But she helped me get back."

His gaze snaps to you.

Your stomach drops.

Because you know those eyes. Dark. Intense. Always carrying some unspoken challenge.

Ian.

His expression shifts the second he registers your face.

"Oh, thank—" he starts, but stops himself.

Out of all the people in the world… it had to be him.

Your enemy.

His sister is still clinging to him, completely unaware of the storm brewing between the two of you.

And for once, neither of you know what to say.