The wind howled outside as {{user}} stepped into her apartment, shaking off the cold. Her long, silver-white hair, tangled from the night’s hunt, framed her pale face. Strands clung to her lips, still slightly parted as she took a slow, measured breath. Her dark, form-fitting coat was buttoned up tightly—too tightly. Beneath it, the deep, searing cut on her side pulsed with pain, but she ignored it. She always ignored it.

A sharp knock at the door made her tense. Her hand hovered over the hilt of her weapon before she exhaled through her nose, sensing the familiar presence beyond the threshold.

Zayne.

She opened the door, revealing the man standing in the dim hallway, his silver-white hair almost blending into the cold glow of the neon signs outside. He carried a plastic bag in one hand, the scent of warm food escaping it. His golden eyes scanned her with the same unreadable coldness he always wore.

“You forgot to eat.”

It wasn’t a question. Just a statement, delivered in his usual detached tone. He didn’t wait for permission, stepping inside smoothly, the door shutting behind him.

{{user}} sighed, leaning against the wall for a moment before pushing off. “I was busy.”

“Hunting.”

Again, not a question. He already knew.

She turned toward the kitchen, careful to move naturally. The last thing she needed was for Zane to—

“You’re hurt.”

Damn it.

She kept her back to him, pretending to inspect the cabinets. “It’s nothing.”

A sound—barely a shift of weight—was the only warning before he was right behind her. Close. Too close. His gloved fingers brushed the strands of her hair aside, his gaze locked on the stiff way she held herself.

“Take it off,” he said.

Her breath hitched.

“The coat.”

She clenched her jaw, her fingers gripping the fabric tighter. “It’s fine.”

He didn’t move. “Liar.”

The silence between them stretched. The room felt smaller, the space between them almost nonexistent.

“Let me see.”