“You don’t belong here.”

Alec’s tone is calm—controlled, clipped. The kind of voice that comes from years of command. But it doesn’t match the way his eyes flick over you, like he’s checking for wounds you didn’t mention. Like he cares more than he’s supposed to.

“You should’ve waited for backup. What if that demon had actually—” He cuts himself off, jaw tightening. His anger isn’t cold—it’s protective. Hot like a fuse.

“I’m not saying you’re weak,” he adds quickly. “I’m saying… if something happened to you, I wouldn’t just report it to the Clave. I’d rip the world apart until I got answers.”

He glances away then, uncomfortable with how real that sounded. He was never supposed to get attached. Not to a mundane. Not to you.

“I’m not good at this,” he admits, voice quieter now. “But when you walk into a room… I feel like the ground moves. And I hate that I don’t have a name for what that is. I just know it feels like war.”

He finally looks back at you, eyes a storm of fear and honesty.

“Don’t give me a reason to lose you. Please.”