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“Aella,” he says, and I fall still. The way the deep timbre of his voice wraps around my name is a hushed invocation, as if speaking it might turn back time. “Of all the reckless things you’ve done, this might be the worst.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I think I still have a few surprises left in me.”

I leap toward the wall, my fingers scrambling frantically for purchase. But as soon as I find a handhold, Raven strikes, seizing me with an unyielding grip and dragging me back.

“Maybe next time, Princess.” His breath lingers along the shell of my ear, and I shudder.

The word lands harder than any blow, because now I see it for what it was—not affection, but a title. The truth, glaring at me, hidden in plain sight this entire time. It’s enough to unlock my frozen form. I wrench one arm free and thrust my elbow backward, landing a sharp hit to his stomach. The impact forces Raven’s grip to loosen enough for me to escape his hold. I quickly step back to create some distance, but he’s already circling, his eyes scanning for an opening.

This confrontation is inevitable now. The alley walls seem to press in, closing us into a world of our own fractured history. Raven must sense it too, the hiss of steel against leather slicing through the air as he draws his weapon.

Within a heartbeat, I draw my dagger and lunge first.

Our blades collide and we fall into a chaotic dance of resentment and memory. I dodge and counter, a surge of energy sharpening my reflexes, but Raven still slips past my guard. I curve away, but a sharp pain flares on my side, forcing a hissed breath through my teeth.

“You can’t win this, Aella,” he says. “Not against me.”

He’s right. Deep down, I know it. He was trained for this—a deadly Nightwing of our order, the lethal talon that silences threats before they have a chance to sing. Raven might be holding back now, but he won’t for much longer.

“Did you enjoy it?” The words tear out of me, jagged, too close to the bone. I don’t know who I’m accusing anymore—Raven, Keres, the Eagle. What I do know is he was the only one who wielded kindness like a weapon, and that betrayal burns in my chest, spilling out before I can stop it. “Sleeping beside me. Lying to my face. All while reporting to the Eagle.”

It’s enough to make him falter. “It wasn’t like that.”

“Then tell me how it was.”

Raven is motionless now, the tension between us palpable in the damp, chill air.

“I didn’t plan on caring about you,” he says, his voice low and hollow. “But I did. Gods help me, I did.”

My breath catches, and I forget the chill seeping into my bones, the ache from the chase, the threat of war hanging like ash in the air. It’s not fair how much I want to believe him. That after everything, part of me still aches for something safe in his arms.

“Then why are you here now?” The words tremble as they escape my lips. “Why are you helping them hunt me like an animal?”

His gaze darkens. “Because I don’t have the luxury of choice. Malis owns me, Aella. Just like he owns half the damn kingdom.”

“So you let me fall in love with you, knowing you were sent to betray me.”

“And what would you have had me do?” Raven closes the distance. “Tell you the truth and risk both our lives? Walk away and let the Eagle tighten his grip on you without anyone to watch your back? I tried to protect you the only way I could.”

“By lying to me?” I say, and I hate that my voice trembles. That I still forget how to breathe when someone who once held me like a secret now cages me like a threat. “By pretending?”

“By being the one who knew what was coming. And trying—gods, Aella, trying—to spare you from it.”

Silence stretches between us, and my grip loosens, the blade heavy in my hand. When I can’t stand it any longer, I ask the one thing I can’t bury. The one thing that burns like poison on my tongue.

“Was any of it real?”

His gaze wavers, the pause as fragile and fleeting as hope, and then the answer cuts like a whisper, too soft to bear.

“All of it.”

We stand on opposing sides of the same shattered history. Suspended between past and present, between truth and treachery. The weight of everything we’ve lost, of everything we’ve become, presses down on us as the night stretches endlessly beyond the confines of the alley.

“Then don’t do this, Raven.” My voice wavers between fury and pleading. “Just let me go.”

His shoulders tense, his expression hardens, and the moment slips away like sand through my fingers. The mask comes down, cold and unyielding.

“You’ve made your choice,” he says, the sharp edge of his resolve returning. “And I’ve made mine.”