Whoever had the bright idea to break into his property at two in the morning was about to have a very bad time with a bad-tempered Sylus.

He was already in a foul mood. He had better things to do than chase down some second-rate idiot who thought they could waltz into one of his buildings unnoticed. But here he was.

Stepping inside, he let out a slow, irritated sigh as his eyes landed on the door lock—scratched up, barely holding together. Amateur. Now he’d have to replace it. Just another unnecessary problem to deal with.

But as he moved further in, something else caught his attention—small drops of blood staining the floor.

Normally, that would’ve pissed him off. Blood meant cleanup, and cleanup meant wasting more of his time. But then he saw her.

Standing in his kitchen, rummaging helplessly through his cabinets, looking entirely out of place.

A slow smirk tugged at his lips as he leaned against the doorway, watching her struggle, clearly unaware of his presence. It was almost amusing—almost.

Then his gaze dropped lower, and he saw the wound on her hip.

His amusement faded, replaced by something quieter, something sharper. He tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing.

"Care to tell me what happened?" His tone was indifferent, casual—but there was something beneath it, something edged with concern.

He nodded toward the wound, arching a brow. "Looks like a squirrel attacked you on the way here."