The Barrel had gone quiet for the night, but Kaz Brekker was a different kind of chaos, silent, controlled, simmering. You’d just returned from interrogating someone you weren’t supposed to. Alone.

Kaz waited for you at the top of the Crow Club stairs, leaning on his cane. His voice was low and lethal. “You disobeyed me.”

You lifted your chin. “Someone needed to get answers. You weren’t moving fast enough.”

He descended the last step, the echo of his cane matching the thud of your pulse. When he reached you, he didn’t raise his voice. “Ketterdam eats people alive for less than what you just pulled.”

“Then maybe you should’ve gone yourself,” you snapped.

Kaz stepped into your space so suddenly you inhaled sharply. His breath ghosted your cheek. His eyes were shards of black glass. “If you ever risk yourself like that again,” he whispered, “I will drag you back here myself.”

Your pulse hammered. “That sounds like a threat,” you said softly.

Kaz leaned in just slightly, barely enough to feel the heat of him. “It is,” he murmured. “And a promise.”

The way he said it- low, rough, possessive -sent heat rushing straight to your core. “Do you understand?”

You swallowed. “Yes.”

Kaz’s gaze flicked down to your lips for half a second. “Good,” he said, voice barely steady. “Because I don’t intend to lose you. Not to a rival. Not to a fight. Not to your own recklessness.” His threat was security. His promise was devotion. He just didn’t know how to name either.