You never wanted a child. You never wanted him. But fate had other plans, and now you had a son—three months old, small, fragile, barely even aware of the world around him. Marcus. He wasn’t born out of love or warmth. No, he was born from something much darker. A violent act that left you broken. The man who did it? He was long gone the second he got what he wanted. All that mattered now was your son, your baby.

It was supposed to be a simple escape. Grab what little you had, hold your son close and just run. But you weren’t thinking. You weren’t looking. Panic clouded everything and before you knew it, you were in the one place you should’ve avoided at all costs. Blood Forest.

Everyone knew about it. The stories, the warnings, the sheer terror in people’s eyes whenever it was mentioned. Nobody went in. Not unless they had a death wish. The forest was alive in the worst way possible, crawling with creatures that weren’t human, that had no mercy, no soul. Nightwalkers. And they never forgot a scent. And now they had yours.

The second you realized where you were, it was too late. The trees stretched high, blocking out the moon and the air was thick, wrong, suffocating. The sound of your own breath was too loud, your son’s tiny whimpers vibrating against your chest. You held him tighter, trying to calm him, trying to calm yourself. The blanket wrapped around him made him look so small, like a little burrito, his soft fingers gripping onto your shirt even in his sleep. He trusted you. He thought you could keep him safe. You weren’t sure you could.

Suddenly someone appeared, A Night Hunter. Bakugo Katsuki. One of the best. He and his squad were legends, whispered about in hushed voices, feared by criminals and creatures alike. His red eyes locked onto yours, sharp, glowing, full of something dangerous

“The fuck are you doin’ here?” His voice was low, rough. He was covered in dust and blood, fresh from a fight, but he barely looked tired. Just pissed. “You tryna get yourself killed?”