Caspian Armstrong’s brow furrowed. He moved with practiced ease, sliding between Raven Sullivan and the man approaching them. His tone was sharp, laced with open hostility. "Who are you? And why are you following her?"

Kingston Stone straightened his posture, desperate to reclaim his usual air of untouchable authority. "This is between Raven and me. You’re an outsider—stay out of it."

His gaze raked over Caspian’s youthful, handsome face like a blade, finally coming to rest on the grease-stained paper bag in Caspian's hand. "Besides, Raven doesn’t eat those pork buns. They’re greasy, and she hates the smell. Don't bother."

The air turned brittle.

Without a word, Raven reached out and took the paper bag from Caspian. She pulled out a warm, pan-fried bun. Under Kingston’s stunned gaze, she took a bite. The crispy shell crunched softly, and a drop of savory broth escaped onto her lip. She wiped it away, chewed slowly, and then lifted her eyes to meet Kingston’s deathly pale face.

"I like them now. People change, Kingston."

It was a simple, hollow-sounding admission, but it shattered the last of Kingston’s pretense and the fragile fantasies he’d clung to. He froze, his blood feeling like ice, forced to watch as Caspian guided Raven toward the precinct entrance. In the morning light, their side-by-side silhouette was blindingly harmonious. Kingston had no standing left to pull them apart.

Once they rounded the corner and confirmed Kingston wasn’t following, Raven stopped and handed the breakfast back to Caspian. "I used you as a shield back there," she said, her voice sincere. "I’m sorry."

Caspian blinked, clutching the cooling paper bag, momentarily speechless.

Raven exhaled, her expression tightening. "That man? He’s my ex. As you saw, we just ended things, and the process was… messy. I’m not in a good place right now." She looked at his youthful, earnest face. "I’m not ready for a new relationship, and I have no desire to start one. Your heart is in the right place, and I appreciate it, but don't waste it on me. Give it up, Caspian."

She turned and vanished into the tide of commuters. Caspian stood alone, watching her straight, distant back, unable to process the finality in her tone.

She assumed he’d take the hint. But at lunch, Caspian was there again, sliding his tray across the table to sit opposite her.

She looked at him, words of rejection catching in her throat.

"So," he began, his voice calm. "You really don't like pork buns?"

She stared at him, caught off guard.

He offered a bright, disarming smile. "I'll bring you dim sum rolls tomorrow, then. You definitely like those."

Raven tightened her jaw, searching for a way to push him away. He seemed to read her thoughts, preempting them with a resolute firmness.

"It’s no use, Raven. I’m going to stay by your side. If you haven't moved on, I’ll wait for you. If you don't like me yet, I’ll wait until you do." His eyes were brilliant, as if they held stars. "Besides, I have all the time in the world."

Raven froze. His words echoed in her mind. Once upon a time, another man had stood before her, eyes just as stubborn, repeating the same tired promises. Love always starts with such grand, iron-clad vows, as if "forever" were a tangible thing. And in the end? Nothing but a brief, dying firework, leaving behind a pile of ash and a heart riddled with holes.

She didn't answer. She picked up her tray and walked away.

She decided to keep her distance. At the precinct, she avoided him unless the work demanded it. She ignored every attempt at closeness. But Caspian was a plant with a desperate, stubborn will to survive.

That night, Raven intentionally worked until 1:00 AM. When she walked out, Caspian was still waiting. They walked toward her apartment in silence, the shadows of the oak trees dancing in the dim moonlight.

Raven sighed. "Why do you bother?"

Caspian didn't answer. His gaze was locked on the entrance of the apartment building. Leaning against the wall was a familiar figure.

It was Kingston. He was wearing only a light jacket, shivering in the deep winter wind. His cheeks were flushed with a feverish, unnatural heat, but his eyes were unnervingly bright as he stared at them.

Raven’s heart tightened; her instinct was to bypass him entirely.

"Raven!"

Kingston lunged forward, radiating a sickly, searing heat. He grabbed her arm—his skin felt like a furnace. "I’ve been waiting forever… I have to talk to you… I know about the baby… I was a total bastard, I—"

"Let go." Raven frowned. He was burning up. "Kingston, we have nothing to talk about. Go see a doctor and stop harassing me."

"No! Listen to me!" Kingston was trembling, his eyes bloodshot and unfocused. "I won't be like that again, I swear. Just one more chance… I don't want anything else, I just want you back…"

Seeing Kingston’s grip on her, Caspian reached his breaking point. He grabbed Kingston by the collar and shoved him back. "Are you deaf? She told you to let go! If you touch her again, don't think I’ll be polite about it."

Caspian was strong. Kingston stumbled, his legs buckling. He collapsed onto the cold, hard concrete with a sickening thud.

Raven looked down at the unconscious man and sighed. She checked his pulse and pupils, then looked at Caspian. "Give me a hand. Get him inside. He’s running a dangerously high fever."

Caspian bristled, but seeing the gravity in Raven’s eyes, he helped her heave Kingston into the apartment and lay him on the sofa. Raven pulled out her medical kit and checked his temperature: 103.6 degrees. She forced him to swallow fever reducers and pressed a cooling patch to his forehead.

The cold hit his skin, and Kingston whimpered, a blurred, indistinct murmur escaping his lips. It sounded like *Raven*.

Raven’s eyes stung. She remembered a year ago, lost in the mountains during a torrential downpour, when Kingston had burned with the same fever, clutching her hand, whispering her name over and over. It felt like a lifetime ago.

Afraid that dwelling on the past would undo her, she turned away, only to find Caspian still standing by the door. His brows were knit tight, his eyes fixed on the unconscious Kingston with raw suspicion.

"Caspian, thanks for the help tonight. It’s late, you should go," she said gently.

Caspian shook his head. "I’m not leaving. It’s obvious he’s up to no good, showing up like this while he's sick. You’re not safe alone. I’m staying. If he tries anything—"

"Caspian," she interrupted, her voice heavy with fatigue. "The history between this man and me is deeper than you can imagine. We loved each other. I was even pregnant with his child."

Caspian’s pupils contracted.

"The baby is gone," she continued, her voice devoid of emotion. "After that, we broke up. Back home, everyone knew about us. It wasn't exactly a respectable chapter in my life." She turned to face him, looking at his vibrant, hopeful face. "You’re so young, your future is wide open. You don't need to waste your time on someone like me."

The room fell silent, save for Kingston’s ragged breathing. Caspian stared at her, his lips pressed into a thin, white line.

"Raven…" a hoarse voice groaned from the sofa.

Kingston had opened his eyes. His gaze was glassy with fever, fighting to focus on Raven. His face twisted into a look of infantile dependency and hurt. His cracked lips moved: "Raven… I knew… I knew you wouldn't just leave me to die…"

His gaze drifted past Raven’s shoulder and landed on Caspian. The vulnerability vanished instantly. Ignoring the vertigo, he forced himself upright, glaring at Caspian before turning his venomous stare back at Raven.

"It’s so late… why is *he* still here?!"

Caspian ignored the question, his eyes never leaving Raven. He took a step forward, closing the distance between them. "Raven, do you think I don't know who you are?"

She looked up, stunned.

Caspian’s eyes were clear and resolute. "I’ve heard about your time in The City. I saw you in the news. Standing in the middle of a riot, gun in hand, facing down criminals. I remember thinking, *how is this girl so brave, yet so incredibly lonely?*"

He took a sharp breath, desperate to get the words out. "People called you a 'police siren' and said you were just a pretty face in a man's game. I knew they were wrong. I studied your cases; I knew the danger you faced. You aren't some clinging vine waiting for a man to hold you up. To me, you’re… you’re a Valkyrie."

"When I heard you transferred here, I followed. I wanted to know the real you. And now, I’m even more certain. I love you, Raven Sullivan."

He said her name with the weight of a vow. "Your past, the glory and the trauma—it’s all part of you. I don't care about the rumors or the dirt people throw at you. I only believe what I see, and what I feel."

Raven was frozen. A tremor raced through her chest, a feeling she had long since buried. She was used to being misjudged, used to being pinned to the wall by salacious gossip. She thought she had built an armor made of iron, impenetrable to judgment. She had never expected that someone so young and clean-spirited would peer through the fog and see her fearlessness—and her loneliness.

It felt alien, frightening, and overwhelmingly tender.

Caspian looked back at Kingston, who was fuming on the couch. "If he isn't leaving, neither am I. I won't give him a chance to hurt you again. I’m staying right here to make sure of it."

"Shut your mouth!" Kingston roared, finally snapping. "Who the hell are you? Get out!"

Kingston scrambled off the sofa, reaching for Caspian’s collar. Caspian frowned and pushed him back to ward him off.

Kingston was already off-balance, his equilibrium shattered by fever. Caspian’s shove sent him reeling backward.

*CRACK.*

His head struck the glass coffee table with a sickening pop. Blood, dark and thick, pooled instantly, trailing across the shattered shards—a crimson stain blooming on the carpet.

He crumpled into a heap, and the light in his eyes vanished as he slipped into the dark.