Chapter 32

The next morning, sunlight filtered in through the blinds—gold and pale and just enough to touch the edges of the chaos left in the room.

My eyes opened slow, dragging themselves from sleep like the rest of my body didn't want to follow. There was a soreness in my side, dull now, the bandage still snug—but it wasn't what I noticed first.

It was her.

Orm was curled into me, her face pressed to my collarbone, legs tangled with mine like she didn't want even an inch of distance. The blanket barely covered us, and the room looked like a storm had passed through. Her doctor coat lay in a crumpled heap by the chair, one sleeve tangled around the edge of the tray table. My hospital gown—what was left of it—was somewhere near the foot of the cot. Underwears discarded and forgotten in the blur of heat and hands and need.

The room smelled like her. Like us.

And for a moment, I let myself just feel it. The weight of her body on mine. The way her fingers were curled against my ribs, just shy of the wound but close enough to say I'm here. I didn't leave. Her hair was a mess, a curtain across her cheek, her mouth slightly parted in the deepest sleep I'd ever seen her fall into.

She looked peaceful.

God, she deserved to be peaceful.

I didn't want to wake her. But I couldn't stop watching her, couldn't stop that slow, warm ache building in my chest again—the kind that wasn't pain but something heavier. Something real. She had bled for me. Fought for me. Stayed with me even when she should've run.

Orm made her home in a place no one had ever dared to enter before. And now she was here, wrapped around me like I was hers.

Because I was.

Carefully, I lifted a strand of her hair off her face, tucking it behind her ear. She shifted but didn't wake—only pressed closer, like even unconscious she knew where she belonged.

I smiled. Couldn't help it.

"You're so stubborn," I whispered into her hair. "Even asleep, you won't let go."

Her fingers twitched against my skin, a faint hum escaping her throat.

I traced the curve of her spine lightly, mindful of every breath she took. The room could stay a mess. The world could keep burning.

As long as I had this—Orm wrapped in my arms, tangled in my sheets, wearing nothing but trust and the imprint of last night's promises—I could face whatever came next.

And it would come.

Sen Yui was still out there.

The war wasn't over.

But for the first time, I didn't feel alone in it.

Because this woman—the same one who stitched my wounds and stole my heart—wasn't just part of my world now.

She was my world.

And no one would take her from me.

Not ever again.

The sunlight had crept higher, casting golden warmth across the edge of the cot and slipping in through the slats of the blinds, falling in slanted lines across Orm's bare back.

I couldn't stop looking at her.

Every inch of her was soft and tangled against me, her breath steady, her lips slightly parted, lashes brushing her cheeks. She looked so still, so impossibly mine, it made something in me ache—not with pain, but with the kind of love that's terrifying in its depth.

So I kissed her.

Slow at first. Gentle. Just a brush of my lips at the top of her shoulder.

She didn't stir.

Another kiss—lower, this time. Along the curve of her back. Then one at the corner of her jaw. I paused there, watching her. She murmured something in her sleep, a soft breathy sound, and nuzzled closer against me.

God, she was adorable like this.

I kissed her again—just beneath her ear this time, the spot I knew she liked even if she'd never admit it. Her breath caught, just slightly. I smiled against her skin.

"Orm," I whispered, voice thick with amusement. "You gonna sleep through all of this? Even after last night?"

She groaned quietly and buried her face against my neck. "Mm. Five more minutes."

"You said that an hour ago," I teased, pressing another kiss along her collarbone, lips trailing lower. "I'm not above waking you up in very distracting ways."

"You already did," she muttered into my skin, her voice muffled, warm. "Repeatedly."

I chuckled, low and slow, and kissed her again—this time on the mouth. She kissed me back before her eyes even opened, sleepy and a little clumsy, but with the same fire tucked behind it. Like her body knew mine before her mind was even awake.

When she finally blinked her eyes open, they were hazy, soft with sleep and something deeper.

"You're insatiable," she whispered, a lazy smile pulling at her lips.

"You're irresistible," I murmured against her mouth.

She kissed me again, slower now, her fingers sliding up to cup my face. The kiss deepened for a moment, breath mixing, heat stirring all over again before she pulled back, laughing softly. "We're in a clinic. Someone could walk in."

"I locked the door last night," I said, smug.

She raised a brow. "You did?"

"I'm a criminal, Baobei. Planning is kind of my thing."

Orm rolled her eyes, but the smile stayed. She tucked herself closer to me, resting her head on my shoulder again, tracing circles over my stomach with one finger.

"I could get used to waking up like this," she murmured.

I tightened my arms around her, pressing a kiss into her blonde hair. "Good. Because I'm not going anywhere."

And in that quiet morning mess—bare skin, stolen kisses, tangled sheets, and last night's clothes forgotten on the floor—I felt the world shift again.

Not in violence this time.

But in something gentler.

Something forever.

Orm shifted against me again, her leg sliding between mine, arms tightening around my waist like a sleepy kitten who'd decided I was now the only pillow that mattered.

I smirked, brushing my fingers lazily through her tangled hair. "You're clingier than usual this morning."

She hummed, her voice muffled by my collarbone. "I just want to stay like this... the whole day. Right here. In your arms."

I kissed the top of her head. "Tempting offer."

She tilted her head back to look at me, amber eyes heavy-lidded but glowing with that sleepy kind of affection that made my chest squeeze. "So let's do it. Let's waste the day."

"You want to waste the day?" I teased. "Dr. Kornnaphat, owner and operator of this very clinic? The woman who scolded a nurse yesterday for being two minutes late to post-op review?"

"Don't use my full title against me," she mumbled dramatically, hiding her face again.

I laughed, low and warm. "You're the one who owns this place, baobei. You've got a waiting room full of people who trust you to, I don't know, heal them."

"I'm healing you," she argued, poking my side carefully. "Isn't that enough for one day?"

"I'm pretty sure I'm gonna need another round of healing after last night," I teased, and she snorted against me, trying and failing to suppress the grin spreading across her face.

"I am a professional, you know."

I trailed a finger slowly down her spine. "Not last night, you weren't."

She squeaked and smacked my arm lightly, then tried to look stern, but her amber eyes betrayed her. "Okay, okay. Maybe I'll do half a day. Then I'm coming right back here."

I pulled her even closer, resting my forehead to hers. "Deal. But I'm locking the door again."

Orm smiled, brushing her nose against mine. "Fine. But only if you promise to still be here when I get back."

I kissed her softly, slowly. "I'll be right here. Waiting."

And I meant it.

She could save the world all she wanted. I just wanted to be her safe place when she was done.

Orm slipped out of the blankets reluctantly, her skin catching the soft morning light, glowing in that way only she could—like fire and silk and something sacred all at once.

I stayed half-reclined on the cot, one arm draped over my stomach, the sheet pulled just high enough to be decent—not that it mattered. Every inch of me already belonged to her.

She moved around the room gathering her clothes, blonde hair still messy from sleep and me, cheeks kissed pink. She pulled on her pants first, then her blouse, buttoning it slowly, her eyes flicking to me every so often like she could feel the weight of my stare.

Because I was staring. Shamelessly.

And then she reached for it—her white coat.

That stupid, holy, beautiful white coat.

I sat up straighter.

There was something about the way she shrugged it on—like it wasn't just fabric but armor. Identity. Purpose. The coat swallowed her shoulders, then fell clean down her back, crisp and powerful, even with a wrinkle or two from being crumpled on the floor all night.

I leaned my head back against the wall, smirking. "I love seeing you in that coat."

She paused, glancing over her shoulder. "Yeah?"

I nodded slowly, eyes never leaving her. "Yeah. It's like... it's you. My Orm. Brilliant. Tough. Sharp enough to cut steel and soft enough to kiss me back like the world's ending."

Orm turned fully now, her hands still in the pockets of the coat, a slow flush blooming over her cheeks. She bit back a smile, the corner of her mouth twitching up like she didn't want to give me the satisfaction—but she always did.

"You're unbelievable," she said, walking back toward the cot.

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

She leaned down, kissed me once, quick and warm, and whispered against my lips, "You make me feel like I'm not just wearing it for everyone else."

I caught her hand before she could pull away and kissed her knuckles. "You're not. You're wearing it for you. And maybe a little for me. Because damn, Baobei... You in that coat? That's a crime."

She rolled her eyes, but she was blushing now, full force.

"I've got to go. Patients. Charts. Actual life-saving work."

"Yeah, yeah," I sighed dramatically, flopping back into the pillows. "Go be the brilliant goddess you are. But don't be surprised if I fake a fever just to see you come running."

She laughed, squeezing my hand. "Behave."

"Yes ma'am."

She let go—finally—and moved toward the door, glancing back one last time.

That white coat swayed behind her, and I watched her go like someone watching a queen leave her throne.

And God help anyone who got in her way today.

Because that was my Baobei.

And the world didn't stand a chance.

I waited until the door clicked shut behind Orm before I moved, letting out a slow breath I hadn't even realized I was holding. The warmth of her still lingered on my skin, in the sheets, in the air. I stayed there a second longer—just enough to feel the echo of her lips on mine—then pulled myself out of the cot.

The clinic floor was cool beneath my feet, grounding.

I moved slow, careful not to pull at the healing wound along my side. It ached, sure—but it was the kind of ache I'd learned to live with. One of a thousand, and far from the worst.

I got dressed in silence: black slacks, crisp shirt, fitted blazer. The armor I wore into the world. My rings slid back onto my fingers, weighty and familiar. I strapped the holster across my ribs, the weight of the gun pressing against the bandage—but I didn't flinch.

I didn't have the luxury to be unarmed anymore.

Not with Sen Yui still out there.

I stepped out of the VIP room, and the change hit me immediately. The clinic—normally quiet, sterile, peaceful—was crawling with my men. Subtle, trained, in streetwear and casual suits, pretending to be bored patients or waiting family. Their eyes tracked everything. Every door. Every nurse. Every face.

I nodded to one of them—he tilted his phone slightly, showing a live feed from the alley cameras.

Good. Nothing got past us this time.

I pulled my own phone out, speed-dialed the one person who never made me repeat myself.

Jiang picked up on the first ring.

"Jie," he said, voice clipped, low. "I was just about to call you."

"Talk," I said, stepping into a quiet alcove just beside the stairwell.

"His night club's back room turned up clean, but it's too clean. Scrubbed hard, like someone knew we'd be coming. We're digging through the financials now—shell corps, laundering lines. It's messier than we thought."

Of course it was.

"And the hotel?"

"Harborview in Hong Kong. Suite 1702. Confirmed three of Yui's old crew rotated through there last week. Same burner pattern we saw back in Macau. He's nesting."

I pressed my fingers to the bridge of my nose. "So he's circling."

Jiang paused. "Or baiting."

That tracked. Sen Yui didn't just strike. He played psychological war. Built a trail and dared you to follow.

"And Orm?" Jiang asked, hesitating.

I glanced down the hall, where I knew she was working. Where she wore that white coat like a shield and healed people like the world hadn't been trying to break her every day since she was born.

"She's safe," I said, voice quiet. "For now."

"Understood."

There was another pause.

Then Jiang said, "Do you want me to pull the team tighter around her? We can close off the street. Lock down the north side—make it invisible."

I closed my eyes for a breath. She'd hate it. She'd fight me on it. But I didn't care anymore.

"Yes. Do it. Quiet. I want eyes on the hotel too. If Sen Yui steps foot on this continent again, I want to know before he breathes."

"Copy that," Jiang said, already moving. "One more thing—about the docks. We got a whisper last night. Yui might've been moving something—someone—through the container line. We're checking manifests now."

"Good. If there's even a shadow of him there, I want the entire dockyard burned."

"Understood."

I hung up without another word.

The weight of the call pressed against my chest, heavy and familiar. I needed air.

Instead of heading up right away, I turned and pushed through the side hallway toward the back of the clinic. The door was unmarked, tucked behind a shelf of potted herbs, but I knew it well. A quiet place. Or it used to be.

The back door of the clinic clicked shut behind me with a low metallic sound. The kind that echoed in quiet places like this—the kind that used to mean privacy. It didn't anymore. Not with two of my men flanking the garden gate and another one pretending to check a broken vending machine twenty feet away.

Still, I lit the cigarette.

The flame trembled just slightly from the morning breeze, but I cupped it with my hand and breathed in. Smoke curled into my lungs, grounding me, warming something I hadn't realized had gone cold since that call with Jiang.

I exhaled slowly, the smoke trailing into the pale sky above the courtyard wall.

Orm hated when I smoked.

Told me it ruined my lungs, clouded my brain, made me harder to kiss. I told her it kept my hands from shaking. She never argued with that part.

I let my eyes roam the yard. Same old concrete path winding past the overgrown planter boxes. Same iron bench that always leaned just a little too far to the left. That old camphor tree still stood tall in the corner, bark peeling like it carried all the weight of the world.

God. This place.

This was where Orm first patched me up. Months ago. No chaos. No war. Just a little bullet in my rib, bruised ego, and blood in my mouth. I'd told her it was nothing. She'd told me to shut up and hold still.

She hadn't looked at me like I was a criminal.

She hadn't looked at me like I was dangerous.

She'd looked at me like I was human.

And I'd been a goner since then.

Even when I wouldn't let her see it. Even when I gritted my teeth through pain and refused to let her help me off the bench. Even when she dabbed at the wound with those infuriatingly gentle hands and scolded me like I was just another idiot with a god complex.

She didn't know what she did to me back then. She couldn't have. The way she looked in that coat, sleeves pushed up, eyes sharp, mouth pulled in that thin line of frustration that—God help me—I wanted to kiss clean off her face.

I didn't even know her.

But I'd wanted to.

And now?

Now she was the only softness left in the storm. The only warmth I craved without shame.

I flicked ash to the side and stared at the spot on the bench where I once sat, bleeding, pretending I wasn't falling for the woman holding the gauze.

I didn't think she remembered it the same way.

But I did.

I remembered everything.

The way she looked up at me and said, "I can take care of myself.."

And I said, "You work yourself to the bone. You save everyone else, but tell me, Doctor—who's saving you?"

And she said, "I don't need saving."

That sentence was still carved into me.

Behind me, one of the men shifted. I flicked the cigarette away, grinding it under my boot heel.

The air felt sharper without it.

I turned toward the clinic doors, steel already settling back over my bones.

Orm had patients. I had enemies. The war didn't pause for love. But I would carve out every second I could get, because I remembered what it was like to sit on this bench and want her from a distance.

And I'd never go back to that again.

Inside, the scent of antiseptic and dried flowers greeted me. I kept my head down and moved fast, boots barely whispering against the tile as I made for the elevator at the end of the hall.

The elevator dinged soft and low as it reached the upper floor. The clinic here was quieter—more polished, less chaos. The nurses moved like clockwork, efficient and focused, but they dipped their heads when they passed me, giving that respectful distance they knew I liked.

Still, I caught one or two of them sneaking glances.

Hard not to, I guess. Most people didn't expect to see me in a place like this. Lingling Kwong, standing outside a doctor's office like some restless schoolgirl waiting to get called in.

I leaned one shoulder against the wall, arms crossed, boot tapping a slow rhythm against the floor as I stared at the plaque on the door.

Dr. Kornnaphat Sethratanapong

I knew the loops of her handwriting better than I knew my own now. She'd written that name a thousand times—on prescriptions, on charts, on the note she left taped to my IV that said "Don't even think about getting up. -O."

My lips twitched.

God, if Jiang saw me like this...

He'd never let me live it down. "Lingling Kwong, Mafia Queen, waiting like a damn puppy for her doctor girlfriend." Hell, he'd probably start calling me something ridiculous like "Miss Kornnaphat's favorite patient." I could already hear the smugness in his voice.

And still—I didn't leave.

I stayed right there, staring at the office door like it might open on its own. Like she'd walk out, see me, and smile that soft, tired smile that turned my whole world inside out.

I could hear her voice faintly—muffled through the closed door of the adjacent room where she was treating someone. Calm. Assured. That edge of sternness she always had when she was in her element, when she was working. I loved her in that space. In her power. In control.

I ran my fingers along the smooth seam of my blazer, resisting the itch to knock. To pull her out. To steal a few minutes.

But I didn't.

I waited.

Like a damn fool.

Because no matter how much blood I'd spilled or kingdoms I'd burned, I'd still wait like this—for her.

And maybe that was the worst part.

Or maybe it was the best.

The door clicked open and a patient stepped out—an older man, walking slow but steady, murmuring thanks as he clutched a prescription slip in hand. I gave him a polite nod, barely disguising the fact that I was waiting for someone else.

Then came the sound I'd been holding my breath for—Orm's voice, light but tired. "Okay, next—"

I stepped in.

Her chair scraped softly against the floor as she half-stood, surprised. "Lingling?"

She looked beautiful in the late morning light, hair pulled back in that loose bun she always forgot to fix, the collar of her white coat slightly askew. Her stethoscope dangled around her neck like a badge of quiet authority. There was a smear of ink on her hand—likely from patient notes—and her expression shifted from confusion to concern in a heartbeat.

"Are you okay?" she asked quickly, already moving around the desk. "Did something happen—?"

"No, Baobei." I lifted a hand to calm her. "Nothing like that."

She stopped in front of me, eyes scanning me like she could X-ray through my skin with just a glance.

I smirked gently. "You gonna check my vitals with your eyes now?"

"Don't tempt me," she murmured, but her shoulders relaxed a little. "Then why are you here? You're supposed to be resting."

"That's what I wanted to talk about," I said, slowly walking to one of the chairs opposite her desk. I didn't sit, not yet. "It's been over a week."

Her eyes narrowed. "Exactly. Which is why you're still supposed to be here."

"I can't keep lying in bed all day, Orm." I looked up at her, serious now. "I know what you're going to say, and I know the wound still needs time. But the longer I stay here, the more I feel like I'm going to rot into your sheets."

A small flicker of amusement twitched at her mouth. "Is that a complaint about my sheets?"

"I like your sheets," I said softly. "Especially when you're in them."

She blushed—gorgeous, immediate. But she folded her arms and tried to keep her doctor face on. "You were shot. By him, no less. This isn't like a pulled muscle or bruised ribs. You lost blood, Ling."

"I know. But I'm healing."

"And I'll be the judge of how well."

I tilted my head, letting my voice drop just slightly. "So judge me, Baobei. Check me over. Slow if you want."

Her face burned scarlet. "You're impossible."

"Only for you."

She ran a hand down her face and muttered, "God, I hate when you're charming like this."

"No, you don't."

She glared. I grinned. And then her gaze softened—just a little.

"You really want to leave?" she asked, quieter now. "So soon?"

I stepped closer, brushing my fingers over her hand.

"I don't want to leave you," I said. "But I can't stay still when I know Sen Yui's still moving out there. My people need me active. Present. I have to start easing back in."

She looked down at our hands, her thumb brushing against mine in that unconscious way she did when she was fighting emotion.

Finally, she nodded. "Okay. But slowly. No running across rooftops. No disappearing for twenty-four-hour stretches. And no fights. I swear to God, Ling—if you bleed again, I'll sedate you myself."

I smiled.

"Deal."

She leaned in, her forehead resting lightly against mine.

"I hate this part," she whispered.

"I know."

Orm's forehead lingered against mine, and for a moment, it was just her breath, soft and warm, that filled the silence between us.

Then I murmured, quiet but firm, "I'll leave by evening."

Her eyes opened, ambers searching mine instantly, and I could feel the protest forming on her lips. I cut it off with a thumb tracing her jaw. "Not now. Just later. I'll stay for lunch. Let you yell at me over vitamin levels and whatever else you think I'm ignoring."

She gave a reluctant huff, the worry still painting the edges of her expression. "Ling... it's only been a week and a few days. That wound still isn't fully—"

"I know," I said gently. "But I can't lie around anymore. I've got to move. Be seen. Let the streets know I'm still alive and not slipping. That matters."

Her jaw tightened, but she nodded. She knew the game, even if she hated that I had to play it.

I laced my fingers with hers.

"My men will stay close. Discreet, but thorough. And yours? They'll be watching you. Closer than ever."

Her brow furrowed. "Ling, I don't need—"

"You do," I said, and there was no softness in my tone now. "He's still out there, Orm. Sen Yui's not done. Not with me. And especially not with you."

Her throat bobbed as she swallowed, and I watched her fight the instinct to argue. She hated being protected like she was fragile—but this wasn't about fragility. This was about precision. Survival.

"You won't notice them," I added, quieter now. "But they'll be there. One in the pharmacy, one in the waiting room, one outside your office, and two on rotation in the alley. They answer only to me. If anything feels off, anything, they'll get you out before you even feel the shift."

Her fingers squeezed mine. "You're serious."

"Always, when it comes to you."

She stepped back just enough to look up at me fully, those stubborn eyes of hers shining with something caught between pride and fear. "I hate that I feel safer when you say things like that."

I kissed her knuckles. "I hate that I have to say them."

"But you'll still leave."

"Only physically," I said. "You know better than anyone—I'm not the kind of woman you get rid of that easily."

That earned me the faintest smile. "Don't I know it."

I stepped back, glanced toward the chair she always made me sit in for checkups. "So, Doctor Kornnaphat, we doing this? I believe you owe me one last official lecture before I'm discharged."

She rolled her eyes, but the edges of her lips curled. "You're impossible."

"And yet," I said, lowering myself into the chair with a low, playful groan, "you still chose me."

Orm's fingers lingered at my wrist longer than necessary, her eyes narrowing just slightly. I saw the shift in her face before she even opened her mouth.

She lifted my hand closer, eyes narrowing more. "You smell like smoke."

I tried to play it cool, tilting my head with a smile. "It's just a little."

Her eyes snapped up to mine—sharp, annoyed, worried. All the things I loved and hated at the same time. "Lingling. You're recovering from a gunshot wound. Your lungs need rest, not tar and nicotine."

I leaned back in the chair, just slightly smug. "Didn't know you were smelling me that closely, Dr. Kornnaphat."

"Don't deflect," she snapped, standing upright with both hands on her hips now. The full force of the white-coat authority came out like a damn tidal wave. "You promised me you'd follow protocol. No cigarettes. No alcohol. No rooftop running. Remember that?"

"You said rooftop fighting," I teased, lips twitching. "You didn't say smoking."

"Semantics will get you killed," she bit back, glaring at me like I was a disobedient student. "Do you want your recovery to take longer? Because that's how you slow down tissue repair, compromise your immune response, and land yourself right back in that cot."

Her voice cracked just slightly on the last word, and I froze.

Shit.

I stood slowly, carefully, taking her hands in mine before she could yank them away. "Hey... I'm sorry."

Her jaw clenched, but she didn't pull back. "I don't want to lose you, Ling. I just got you."

"You won't." I kissed the inside of her palm, then held it to my chest. "I'll stop. No more smoke. I swear."

She looked up at me, skeptical but softening. "Promise?"

I nodded. "On everything."

"I'm holding you to that," she murmured.

I leaned in, brushing my lips against her temple. "I'd let you hold me to anything, Baobei."

She groaned, exasperated. "Flirting won't get your nicotine levels down."

"True. But maybe," I said, grinning, "you could distract me in other ways?"

She shoved my shoulder lightly. "Sit back down. You're still not cleared."

"Harsh."

"Doctor's orders."

I sat.

Orm didn't look at me at first, flipping a page on her clipboard with the kind of sharp snap that said she was still mad—just a little. But her hands had stopped shaking, and that tight line between her brows had started to ease.

I stayed quiet, letting the moment settle. Letting her breathe.

The silence stretched between us like thread, taut but unbroken. Then she finally spoke, her voice quieter now.

"You're not indestructible, Ling."

"I know."

She shot me a look. "No, you don't. You say it, but I don't think you believe it. You still walk into fire like you're immune to the burn."

I leaned forward, elbows on my knees. "Maybe I'm just used to burning."

Her eyes flickered, something raw there for a second. Then she closed the chart, set it gently on the desk, and crossed the room to me. Her knees bumped against mine as she stood between them, hands sliding to either side of my face.

"I need you to try," she said, thumb brushing over my cheek. "For me. Just try. Even if it's hard."

I looked up at her. This close, I could see the faint shadows under her eyes. The ones she always tried to hide.

"I'm not used to being someone who gets kept," I whispered. "But I want to try. For you, I will."

Her lips parted like she wanted to say something else—but then she just leaned in and kissed me, slow and grounding. Her mouth was warm, familiar, and still a little angry, but I didn't mind.

When she pulled back, she rested her forehead against mine again.

"You better. Because if I have to stitch you up one more time, Lingling Kwong, I swear I'm charging you double."

I grinned, voice low. "I pay in kisses, remember?"

"That currency's going to inflate fast."

We stayed like that for a moment longer—just breathing, just existing.

Then, reluctantly, she stepped back, tugging her coat straight again. "Alright. I have a few more patients before lunch. Go rest. Or, I don't know, read a file or glare dramatically out a window. Whatever you mafia types do when you're pretending to behave."

I stood up, brushing a kiss to her jaw as I passed her. "I'll be good."

"Liar."

"Only for you."

I walked out with the faint sound of her laugh behind me, the world waiting on the other side of that door. But for the first time in days, the weight in my chest felt lighter.

I made it halfway down the hall before one of my men peeled off the wall to shadow me—Jiang's pick, lean, silent, and smart enough not to hover too close. I barely acknowledged him. That was the rhythm of it now—Orm's clinic dressed up in our presence, my people woven between hers like invisible threads. A fortress pretending to be a place of healing.

I slipped back into the VIP room briefly to grab my jacket. The scent of her still lingered on the sheets, and I stood there for a beat too long, fingers curling in the collar like it was her hand I was holding.

Evening was coming. And with it, the world. The streets. Éclipse.

Sen Yui's shadow stretched longer by the day.

But so did mine.

I checked my phone. Three messages. All from Jiang.

Jiang

JiangWe've confirmed movement near Éclipse.He's consolidating. Buying silence.The hotel in Mong Kok is under a fake name, but it's him. Three floors bought out.We intercepted a comm. He's looking for her again.

I stared at that last one.

Of course he was.

I swallowed the rise of fury that licked at the edges of my ribs, slow and hot and consuming. My fingers moved fast—texting back.

Me

We're going to bleed him dry.Piece by piece. But not yet.Tighten the perimeter around the clinic. Increase sweep rotations.And double who's watching Orm.

I hesitated. Then typed one last line.

If he even breathes in her direction,I want his lungs punctured.

JiangUnderstood, Boss.

I slid the phone into my pocket just as the door creaked behind me.

Orm.

She was framed in the doorway, arms crossed, coat slightly wrinkled, and that look on her face—the one where she was pretending not to care, but her eyes betrayed her.

"You didn't leave," she said, voice soft.

"Not yet." I smirked. "Miss me already?"

She rolled her eyes, but her shoulders relaxed. "Lunch is ready. I figured you'd sneak out before I got the chance to make you eat something green."

I walked over, closing the space between us in three slow steps. "You want me strong, right? Guess I better suffer through the broccoli."

She raised a brow. "It's bok choy."

"Still green."

Her fingers found my wrist again, thumb over the pulse point, like she was checking without making it obvious. A habit now. A quiet one.

"You're still too warm," she murmured.

"I run hot."

"That's not a good thing when you're recovering."

"But it is," I said, leaning in close, letting my breath brush her ear, "when I'm sleeping next to you."

She flushed. "Lingling."

"What?" I grinned. "Doctor's orders to keep warm. I'm just being compliant."

She groaned and turned, but not fast enough to hide her smile. "Come on. Eat. Then you can go play mafia queen."

I followed her down the hall, steps slow, protective. Even now—especially now—every time I watched her walk ahead of me, the curve of her shoulders, the sway of her coat, the strength in the way she moved...I knew.

She wasn't just something I was protecting.

She was something I'd burn the world to belong to.