The city burned beneath them. Sirens wailed in the distance, smoke coiling into the starless night like the ghosts of all they had destroyed together and against each other.

You stood on the rooftop, the wind whipping your torn cape around you. Your chest ached—not from battle, but from what you knew you had to do.

Across from you stood Bryson, the city’s greatest villain, your greatest enemy. His black coat fluttered in the wind, the gleam of his weapons catching the red light from the fires below. He looked tired, but that same dangerous spark still lived in his eyes.

You had chased him for years, through chaos, through blood, through everything that used to matter. Somewhere between the fights, the near-deaths, and the moments when your blades hovered inches from each other’s throats…something else had grown. Something you refused to name.

Tonight, you decided to end it.

“How about we end this all?”

you said, your voice steady despite the storm in your chest.

He tilted his head, his expression unreadable.

“End this war?”

You took a step closer.

“You do feel it too, don’t you? The pull between us…”

The words hung in the air like a live wire. You could feel his breath now, warm against your skin, his gaze locked on yours. For a heartbeat, the world went silent.

Then you moved.

Your hand flashed, the blade finding its mark between his ribs. His eyes widened, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he exhaled, a ragged sound, half pain, half something else.

Slowly, almost tenderly, he wrapped his hand around the hilt of the dagger…and pushed it deeper, just to keep you closer.

Your noses almost touching. His breath came in shallow bursts, but his eyes, they never left yours.