Kaz Brekker stood in the shadows of the warehouse, his eyes sharp and calculating as they followed every graceful move you made. The high beams of the tightrope were your stage, and Ketterdam whispered about your talent — not with awe, but with mockery. Freak, they’d call you. But you didn’t care, not up here, not when you could soar.

But lately… you’d noticed Kaz’s silence, his distance. Maybe it was shame, maybe the rumors about the girl who performed feats only seen in twisted carnivals got to him. Or maybe, just maybe, the way he looked at you wasn’t admiration but… embarrassment.

Kaz’s voice cut through the silence, low and commanding. “You’re a distraction.” It stung deeper than you’d like to admit.

Did he mean your talent… or you?