Dawn spilled soft light across the city, but it didn’t reach the unease in Fynric’s chest.

He lay in Dorian’s arms, the warmth of the night still clinging to his skin, yet he couldn’t shake the heaviness pressing down on him. His fingers traced circles over Dorian’s chest, a silent tether.

“It feels wrong,” he whispered.

Dorian’s green eyes opened, sharp even in half-light. “What does?”

“This happiness.” Fynric’s voice cracked. “Like it doesn’t belong to me. Like any second, it’ll be ripped away.”

Dorian cupped his jaw, forcing him to look up. “Then let it try. Whatever Kaelen thinks he’s doing, he’ll have to go through me first.”

The conviction in his voice should have calmed Fynric. Instead, the dread only deepened.

---

Across town, Aric stirred awake to the weight of Joren’s head on his shoulder. Last night’s tenderness still lingered, every detail imprinted on his skin.

“Morning,” Aric murmured, pressing a kiss to Joren’s hair.

“You’re way too happy,” Joren groaned, burying his face against him.

“Maybe I’ve got a reason now.”

Joren flushed, but before he could answer, Aric’s phone buzzed. He frowned, lifting it. The blood drained from his face.

“What is it?” Joren asked.

Aric’s voice was grim. “The café where Fynric works—it’s burning.”

---

By the time they arrived, the street was chaos. Smoke poured into the sky, flames tearing through the place Fynric had poured his soul into—the one corner of the world that had ever felt safe to him.

“No—!” Fynric tried to run forward, but Dorian caught him, arms like iron around his waist.

“Fyn, you’ll get yourself killed!”

“It’s all I had—!” His voice broke, raw with grief. His café, the laughter, the warmth, the hours of hard work—all swallowed by fire.

And then he saw him.

Across the street, just beyond the wall of smoke, a figure stood. Tall. Familiar. Smiling.

Kaelen.

Their eyes met through the haze, and Kaelen lifted a hand in mock salute before disappearing into the crowd, leaving only the inferno behind.

---

Aric’s fists shook with restrained rage. Joren placed a trembling hand on his arm, but even his voice was sharp. “He did this. He wanted Fynric broken.”

Dorian held Fynric tighter, fury blazing in his eyes. “Then he’ll learn the cost of touching what’s mine.”

The four of them stood together in the smoke and ruin, united by more than love now—by war.

Kaelen had struck first.

And he would pay.