He towered in front of me like something carved from war itself.
Broad shoulders stretched beneath the black suit like it had been made to contain something dangerous.
His jaw—
Sharp. Hard.
His mouth set in a line that promised nothing good.
And his eyes—
Those eyes.
Still dark. Still intense.
But no longer broken.
No longer searching.
They had become something else entirely.
Cold. Calculating. Deadly.
The kind of eyes that decided who lived and who didn’t—
And didn’t lose sleep over either.
His hair was shorter now—cut close, precise, every strand in place.
Everything about him radiated control.
Power rolled off him in quiet, steady waves.
Even the men by the door—the short one barely holding back his fury, the tall general with polished authority—didn’t look like protectors.
They looked like weapons.
Waiting. Watching. Ready.
For his command.
And I knew—without a doubt—if he gave the word, they would kill me without hesitation.
Still, I didn’t look away.
I couldn’t.
Because beneath all of it—beneath the suit, the power, the violence—I still saw him.
The boy in the dirt.
The one who had smiled at me like I had given him something he didn’t know he needed.
His gaze didn’t waver. Not even for a second.
“Just tell me one thing.”
His voice was low—quiet enough not to need volume to command attention, yet it filled the space anyway.
