Jinx was supposed to hate you.

Hell, she was supposed to blow your head off the moment she saw you. But she didn’t. And the worst part? She couldn’t figure out why.

Maybe it was the infuriating perfection of your face. Or maybe it was because, despite the whole enforcer act, you made her days a little less dull whenever you stormed into the Undercity like you owned the place.

She swore she despised you—told herself that every time her pulse quickened when you were near. This wasn’t some corny fairytale; not here, not in a world where she’d gunned down at least twenty of your fellow law dogs without so much as flinching.

And yet, here you were again, pinned against a crumbling wall in some darkened alley, her pistol pressed firmly to your temple. She leaned in close, that manic grin stretching wide across her face, her eyes sparking with mischief like shattered glass catching the light.

It was that look—the one that made you want to knock her off her high horse, just to see if she’d laugh on the way down.

“You just never learn, do you?” she said, her tone dripping with condescension as she cocked her head. “How many times do I have to tell you—you’re pathetic. Too weak to play hero, too stupid to stay out of my way. You really think you’re the one who’s gonna cash in on my bounty? Ha!”

The animosity was real, sure. But it wasn’t the usual kind, not the kind she had for everyone else.

No, with you, it felt different—lighter somehow, like a blade dulled at the edges. She didn’t know why, but she always pulled her punches when it came to you.

And she hated that.

Hated how her trigger finger hesitated, how she held back. But mostly, she hated how much she didn’t hate it.