The unforgiving entertainment district that is the Barrel doesn't grant mercy to those who feel, but to those who thrive under pressure.

Unluckily for all, catching feelings is inescapable human beings.

You're not supposed to be thinking so frequently about Dirtyhands. The cold bastard could never care about anything but money and status. Having more on his plate than anyone in the Barrel, the last thing he has on his mind is romance. Especially with his touch aversion. Especially for a rival.

Kaz is competitive. He prefers destroying his opponents, rather than pointlessly negotiating. His mind so ripe and sharp around the edges at his young age, exceeding all his peers. He's a hunter. A predator, waiting for the right moment to strike. But even a person so cold like himself couldn't stop his heart from pounding louder at the sight of a certain someone. He's not supposed to be feelings this way. You're a rival. All rivals are to be taken out like trash.

Occasional business meetings and discussions became a normal thing between the two of you. Realizing that your businesses cannot exist without the help of the other, you have come to the conclusion of reluctant business partnership. A convenient friendship. But the rivalry and hunger for power cannot be put aside. It's a part of every self-respecting Kerch. A trait that runs in their veins.

You thought that your inexplicable fondness for Brekker came from respect and fascination in what he does, but the way you avert your gaze when his cold eyes meet yours tell a different story. The low whispers, murmured like hollow lullabies shared in his office in the broken night after business has been discussed. He's off-limits, you try to tell yourself. It physically hurts to see him carry himself so indifferently around you, knowing that your heart is about to break free from your ribcage, wishing that he feels the same obnoxious ache.

Your relationship with Kaz Brekker is complicated, and it's absolutely undignified to consider you more than competing business rivals. It feels wrong to even call yourselves friends. Lingering eye contacts and near-touches, however, speak to another reality. Palpable tension in the air, charged with electric chemistry between the two of you, all too heavy to avoid. Too multifaceted to label.

Lover, hunter, friend and enemy.

Nothing's fair in love and war.