Her eyes lifted to his. For a second, the world narrowed to just the two of them, breaths mingling, heartbeats loud in the silence between them. The river murmured below, the city hummed in the distance, but none of it reached them. Everything else faded, leaving only the space they shared.
She reached for his blazer with careful hands. Alina draped it back over his shoulders, smoothing the fabric into place as if it mattered how it sat on him. The gesture was simple, almost ordinary, yet it grounded him in a way nothing else had. She stepped back slightly, still close enough that he could feel her warmth lingering in the night air.
Kai stood still. He had worn tailored suits, heavy coats, uniforms placed on him by assistants and strangers who knew his measurements better than his moods. Hands had dressed him countless times. But this was different.
Alina adjusted the collar with quiet focus, smoothing it down near his chest, tugging lightly so it sat right. Her movements were careful, almost reverent, as though she were afraid of hurting him even through fabric. Kai's breath caught.
The river flowed beneath the bridge. The city breathed around them. And for the first time that night, Kai Arden felt something unfamiliar settle in his chest. Peace. Not because the danger was gone. Not because the night had softened. But because someone had stayed. Kai didn't look away. He couldn't.
As Alina returned her attention to his hands, the world narrowed again—until there was nothing except her touch and the steady thunder of his heartbeat. The bridge, the river, the city lights blurred into something distant and irrelevant. The wind lifted strands of her hair, soft and unruly, brushing against her cheeks, teasing the corner of her lips.
A few strands escaped completely and danced across her face, catching the dim glow of the streetlight. She didn't notice as she was too focused on him, and that undid him.
Her brows were slightly drawn together, the faintest crease forming between them—not from anger or fear, but from care. From a concern so deeply rooted that it showed without effort. Kai watched the way her lashes lowered as she concentrated, the way her eyes softened every time he flinched, as if his pain echoed somewhere inside her.
Her lips parted just slightly when she blew gently on his knuckles, trying to ease the sting. It was a small, instinctive act, yet it struck him harder than any blow ever had. Her fingers were careful. Reverent. As if his hands were not capable of destruction. As if they were something worth protecting.
The wind brushed past again, pushing her hair across her cheek. One strand clung there stubbornly. Kai had the sudden, overwhelming urge to reach out and tuck it behind her ear—not roughly, not possessively, but slowly, intimately, like he was afraid even the slightest wrong movement might break the moment.
He didn't move. He just watched. Watched the way her thumb brushed his skin unconsciously, soothing rather than cleaning. Watched the way her jaw tightened when she saw the blood. Watched the way she swallowed when she realised how badly he'd hurt himself. And somewhere between her quiet breathing and the soft rustle of her clothes in the wind, something inside Kai cracked.
This woman—this dangerous, infuriating, impossible woman—was standing in front of him, mending his wounds as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Not asking questions.
Not demanding explanations. Not fearing him. Just… caring.
He had faced enemies without blinking. He had stood in rooms full of men who wanted him ruined. He had made decisions that reshaped lives. Yet here he was, undone by the way Alina's hair moved in the wind as she bent closer to him.
When she finally looked up at him, her eyes met his—open, unguarded, searching—and Kai realised something with startling clarity. If she ever walked away… This silence, this softness, this moment— It would haunt him far more than any enemy ever could
For a few seconds, he let himself stay there. Let the feeling settle. Let it soften something he had kept armoured for years. Then the air shifted. The wind grew sharper. Colder. Alina was wearing sleeveless. Her arms were bare, exposed to the night, yet she didn't complain. She didn't fold her arms or shiver.
But her skin was changing. The faint warmth of her arms slowly flushed red beneath the cold. Kai noticed instantly. His gaze dropped to her hands—still gentle, still steady, but pale at the edges. Understanding hit him in a second. His jaw tightened.
Before she could speak, before she could even realise what he was doing, Kai stepped back and slipped the blazer off in one smooth movement. Without a word, he placed it around her shoulders.
Alina froze. She felt the weight of the fabric first. Then the warmth. Then the familiar scent of him. Her eyes widened as she looked down at the blazer—his blazer—now resting on her shoulders.
Slowly, she turned her head and met his gaze. The moment stretched. Kai adjusted the blazer so it wrapped her properly, his fingers brushing her skin. Their hands touched. Cold. Her hands were cold.
"You're cold," he said quietly, his voice lower than before.
Alina inhaled sharply, then looked away, pretending to study the river, the lights, anything but his face. "Hm… umm…" she murmured.
Kai tilted his head toward the car and spoke gently, firmly. "Come."
By the time the car reached Kai's house, the city had gone quiet. Alina was asleep in the passenger seat. Her head was tilted slightly toward the window, lashes resting softly against her cheeks, breath slow and even. The night had finally claimed her.
Kai unbuckled his own seatbelt and turned toward her, about to wake her and tell her they had arrived—but he stopped. She looked… peaceful. He didn't want to disturb that. Carefully, almost painfully slow, he reached across and unbuckled her seatbelt. The soft click echoed louder than it should have. She stirred slightly but didn't wake.
Kai stepped out, walked around the car, opened her door, and gently slid one arm beneath her knees and the other around her back. Her weight settled against him naturally, her head resting near his shoulder. She murmured something unintelligible and curled slightly closer. Kai froze for half a second. Then he exhaled. Without waking her, he carried her inside.
Morning came faster than expected. Ryan stood inside Kai's house, checking his watch for the third time. He had arrived early as always and now waited near the staircase, posture straight, phone tucked into his pocket. A few seconds later, Kai walked downstairs, fully dressed for work, expression unreadable as usual.
"Good morning," Ryan greeted.
Kai gave a brief nod. They sat Kai with his back toward the staircase, Ryan facing it. From where Ryan sat, he had a clear view of the stairs. Ryan opened his file and began his report.
"There's no media leak about last night. No cameras caught the incident. No TV reporter saw you—"
Kai listened silently. "—and I made sure nothing about the man's tooth or how badly he was beaten reaches the news."
Ryan paused. From upstairs, faintly, came the sound of someone humming. Not loud. Not subtle either.
Ryan blinked. "Did you… hear that?"
Kai leaned back slightly. "Hear what?"
Ryan frowned. "It sounded like singing."