The air itself had thickened, pressing down on him, on me. I could still feel him shaking, the way his pulse thrummed too fast beneath his skin. But he wasn't looking at me anymore. He was looking at him. The man. Standing just a few feet away. Watching. Not speaking. Not yet. And that was worse. Because the way his gaze moved—slow, calculating—felt familiar. Not the kind of familiarity that brings comfort. The kind that brings cold hands and locked doors.The kind that makes you want to run.
"So this is her." The words weren't a question. A statement. A confirmation. An assessment. His voice was steady, even, but something inside Kaze cracked anyway. I felt it. He took a step forward—not toward the man, toward me. Between us. "Stay away from her." A warning. A demand. But his voice—it wasn't stable. It wavered, just slightly. Did he know me?
And the man—he noticed. His gaze flickered between us. "Interesting." That single word felt like a blade pressed too close to the skin. I heard the sharp breath he sucked in. The way his fingers twitched—almost reaching for me, then stopping. Like he wasn't sure if that was allowed. "You care about this one." No response. Silence. But his body gave him away. The tension in his shoulders. The way his jaw locked tight enough to crack. The way he didn't deny it. The man tilted his head slightly, as if he had just confirmed a theory. "That explains the weakness."
That— That made him snap. In an instant, the shaking was gone. Not because he had calmed down. Because something colder had taken over. He turned fully then, facing the man head-on, his voice a razor's edge.
"She's not part of this."
"Oh?" The man's lips curled into something that wasn't quite a smile. "You really believe that?" My stomach twisted. Because for a moment, I wasn't sure if he did. And I wasn't sure if the man had just given him a choice— Or an ultimatum.
The man didn't argue. Didn't lunge. Didn't force the moment to stretch any longer. He just—watched. And then— He smiled. Not wide. Not warm. Just a slight curl of the lips. Calculated. Knowing. "I see." That was all he said. Then he turned—and walked away.
No fight. No threats. Just the sound of his footsteps fading into the hall. And somehow—that was worse. Because I knew—he got what he wanted. I turned back to him.