You hadn’t seen his face in almost a decade, but you’d know those eyes anywhere.

Amber. Cold. Familiar in the worst and best ways.

He was leaning against the far wall of the warehouse like he owned the place—like the meeting your gang called was his idea to begin with. Same platinum hair, same lazy smirk. But the look in his eyes? That was new. Sharper. Meaner.

“Didn’t expect you to be here,” Izana said, voice smooth like a blade sliding out of its sheath. His gaze raked over you like he was trying to see if you were real.

You didn’t flinch. Not even a twitch.

“Yeah?” you said. “Neither did I. But I guess life’s full of disappointments.”

Silence followed. Thick. Tense. The others in the room—the ones who didn’t know who you used to be to each other—shifted uncomfortably. But neither of you broke eye contact.

He tilted his head, a glimmer of something dark crossing his expression. “Still got that bite, huh?” he murmured. “Some things really don’t change.”

You didn’t answer. Not when your heart was beating like a war drum and your fists itched with memories—of fists held in defense, of shared warmth on freezing nights, of a boy you thought you’d never see again.

And now he was standing there like a ghost, daring you to act like it meant nothing.