Kairus' POV :
The storm had calmed by the time they arrived.
But the one inside me hadn't.
I felt it before I saw her—Elena Cruz.
I watched from the shadows at the top of the stairs, unseen but all-seeing.
And somehow… Raven loved her.
"Raven," I called, voice calm but cold. A command.
"Come downstairs. I have something for you."
I heard the sharp thud of her footsteps overhead—barefoot, fast, familiar.
The sound that had rooted itself into my bones.
The second she turned the corner and saw Elena standing in the living room—gloved hands in her jacket pockets, a crooked grin blooming like trouble on her lips—Raven lit up.
"Elena!"
She didn't walk.
She ran.
And I—
I watched.
She launched herself into Elena's arms with the kind of reckless joy she never showed me. No hesitation. No fear. Just love. Pure and loud.
And Elena caught her like she'd done it a hundred times. Like Raven belonged in her arms.
"Baby girl," Elena breathed, wrapping Raven in that reckless warmth that made the air taste like jealousy in my throat."God, look at you—still a menace, huh?"
Raven beamed. "You look the same! Still criminally hot and probably illegally armed."
Elena cackled. "Obviously. I missed your dramatic ass, you little gremlin."
They were fire and gasoline, and the whole room reeked of warmth I couldn't touch.
"You're actually here!" Raven gasped, pulling back just enough to look at her. "How the hell did you even know where I was?"
Elena tilted her head and pointed casually over her shoulder—straight at Mikhail, who stood leaning against the wall like he hadn't just dragged a small hurricane into my house.
"Hitman Barbie over there kidnapped me."
Raven's mouth dropped open. She turned to Mikhail with wide eyes. "You what?"
Mikhail gave her that deadpan look only he could pull off and shrugged one shoulder. "Boss said bring her. So I did. Gently."
"Gently?" Elena scoffed. "You tossed me into the car like a damn duffel bag."
Raven rolled her eyes, turning back to Elena with a grin. "Still can't believe you're here. You look like trouble. The good kind."
"I missed you, Rae," Elena said, softer now. Her fingers tangled in Raven's hair, pulling her in close. "Had to see with my own eyes you were okay."
That word—okay—lingered. Meant more than it said.
And I hated how easily Elena spoke like she knew her. Knew what to look for. What to say. What to touch.
And maybe she didn't mean to stab me with that.
Maybe she didn't see me standing here, watching the only person I let breathe near my heart choose someone else to shine for.
But I felt it.
Like a knife under the ribs.
Raven clung to her like she was the only oxygen she trusted. Elena stroked her hair, kissed her temple, whispered things in a language built only between girls who survived too much and found each other anyway.
And I—
I stood there like a specter in my own home.
Not welcome.
Not needed.
Mikhail walked past me, silent. Amused. Bastard.
"She doesn't hug you like that," he said under his breath.
I didn't answer.
But God help me—
I already hated her.
Not because she was loud.
Not because she was dangerous.
But because she could make Raven laugh like that.
Because she had a place in her heart I hadn't earned.
Because Elena Cruz had already won something I never got the chance to fight for.
And worst of all?
Because Raven loved her.
Later, when the greetings were done, when Elena wandered off to explore the place like she owned it, Raven finally turned to me. Her smile faded into something curious, something sharp beneath the softness.
"You wanna tell me what you're playing at?" she asked, voice low as she stepped close. Close enough that her scent brushed against my skin.
"What do you mean?" I asked, neutral. Controlled.
She looked over her shoulder toward where Elena had vanished, then back at me. "Bringing her here. My best friend. The one person who knows me like a second skin. What's your angle, Kairus?"
I didn't blink.
Didn't let her see the way her joy had turned my blood into vinegar.
"I thought," I said, tone as even as marble,
"you might want to see her."
She stared at me for a moment longer. Eyes narrowing slightly. As if trying to see beneath the surface—past the calm, past the control, to the crack in the steel.
But I held still.
Like always.
"Right," she said finally. A small nod. "Okay."
She walked away after that—back to Elena, back to warmth.
And I stayed standing in the cold.
I found her in the hallway, leaning against the wall. Elena Cruz.
She didn't flinch when she saw me.
"You know," she said, arms crossed, voice dripping acid, "for a man with more money than God, you sure lack basic emotional intelligence."
I raised a brow. "You're in my house, Cruz. Maybe start with a thank you."
She scoffed. Loudly. "Oh, right. Thank you so much for forcing acontract marriage on my best friend like she's some pawn in your rich-boy chess game."
"Good," I said flatly. "Then we're on the same page."
Her eyes narrowed. "You really don't give a damn, do you?"
"No," I replied, cool and surgical. "Not about what you think of me."
Elena's jaw clenched. "You think that's noble? You think that makes you deep? Some tragic anti-hero in a designer suit?"
"I think," I said slowly, "I know what she needs better than anyone else does. Even you."
She tilted her head. "Is that what you tell yourself ?"
I stared at her. Silent.
Her grin widened, sharp as glass. "Yeah. I see it. You hate that she loves me so easily. You hate that she trusts me without all the cages and blood oaths."
"I hate," I murmured, "that you think you know what love costs."
That shut her up. Just for a second.
Then, with that reckless energy she always wore like perfume, she rolled her eyes and turned to leave. But just before stepping away, she paused—back still to me, voice softer now.
"But I'm still glad," she said. "Glad that because of you, she doesn't have to fight like a menace in that shitty underground anymore. Glad she's not out there bleeding for coin anymore. Glad she's not surviving just to survive."
She looked over her shoulder, and her smirk didn't quite hide the gratitude in her eyes.
"You're still an asshole, Kairus," she added.
"Obviously."
And then she was gone, boots echoing down the hallway, leaving only the scent of smoke and the strange silence of someone who hated me, but maybe didn't want me dead. Not yet.