Xavier pushed himself up, dusted off his jacket, then turned toward her and held out a hand. "Come on. I'll drop you off wherever you want."

Reva just looked at his hand for a moment, her expression unreadable. The moonlight from the ruins flickered faintly across his face, cold eyes steady on her like he wasn't even aware of the mess between them. She hesitated, biting the inside of her cheek—then finally reached out and took his hand.

He pulled her up effortlessly, and for a moment, she didn't let go. They started walking toward his bike, the gravel crunching beneath their boots, and her fingers stayed wrapped around his. She didn't know why she was holding on so tight. Maybe she was afraid he'd disappear the moment she let go.

Her face burned as they walked, heat rising to her ears. She'd never felt this kind of nervousness before—not when she'd stripped in front of him, not even when he'd had her pinned to the ground an hour ago. Not when he was balls deep inside her, not when she moaned his name. That was physical, wild, instinctive. But this… this was something else. Something she didn't even know how to name.

Xavier stopped beside his bike, let go of her hand, and swung a leg over. He reached for the helmet, held it out to her. "Here."

Reva shook her head. "You wear it."

He looked at her once, then tossed it aside without a word. The metal clattered against the cracked asphalt and rolled into the dirt. Then he gripped the handles, scanned his biometrics, and the bike came alive with a low rumble that echoed through the ruins.

Reva climbed on behind him, her hands hesitating before sliding around his waist. The engine's growl filled the night as Xavier revved once and then took off, the wind cutting between them as they disappeared into the empty road stretching ahead.

Reva leaned her head against his back as the bike roared down the dark stretch of road, the wind tearing past them in cold waves. Beneath her palms, she could feel his heartbeat—steady, deep, unbothered by anything in this world. And she didn't want it to end. Not the ride. Not the silence. Not the warmth that seeped from his body into hers like it belonged there.

She tightened her arms around him, pulling herself closer. She could feel the faint vibration of his breath, the way his shoulders shifted with every move of the bike. She'd always loved when he fucked her rough and when he lost control, when he made her moan, and when she made him bleed just enough to taste him.

But now… she didn't want that. She didn't want the fight, the dominance, or the hunger. She just wanted him. No blood, no lust, no chaos. Just this—the sound of his heart, the heat of his body, the way his silence somehow said everything.

It hit her then—the fear. The kind that crawled up her throat and made her chest ache. She could lose him. He'd disappear like everything else she'd ever loved. He couldn't stay, and she couldn't make him. That thought scared her more than death itself. So she hugged him tighter. Xavier felt it, glanced back for a second, but said nothing.

He took a long turn over a flyover overlooking the city—the lights stretching like veins across the dark, alive yet distant. For once, he wasn't thinking about revenge, or blood, or the next job. Just the moment. Just the sound of her breath behind him.

After a while, he slowed down and asked, "Where do you want me to drop you?"

Her voice barely made it past the wind. "Raven Street… near the east quarter."

He nodded once and turned toward that direction, the engine humming low. The closer they got, the quieter it felt. The buildings blurred past, the road thinning, and the fear inside her grew heavier with every meter. She didn't want to get there. She didn't want this night to end.

But it did. The bike came to a halt at the curb.

For a few seconds, neither of them moved. Reva didn't get off. She just sat there, holding him, hoping he'd tell her not to go.

But he didn't. Although he didn't ask her to get off, either. He simply waited for her to act.

She finally slid off, her boots touching the ground softly. She stood there, her hands cold, her heart pounding like she'd just been stabbed with her own truth. She turned to him—eyes trembling, lips parted, everything she'd ever wanted to say burning behind her teeth.

Xavier looked at her and smiled. "What is it?"

It was funny to him how weird Reva was suddenly acting.

Reva swallowed hard. Then, in a voice that cracked halfway between strength and desperation, she said, "I love you."

Xavier's expression didn't change, but she went on anyway—words spilling out, raw and trembling.

"I love you in ways I don't even understand. When you hurt me, when you make me bleed, when you ignore me—I still want you. Not the idea of you, not the power, not the danger. You. The man who walks like he doesn't care if the world burns. The man who makes me feel like I'm alive even when everything else is dead. You don't have to love me back, Xavier. You probably never will. But I had to say it, because if I die tomorrow, I want you to know that someone in this damned city loved you for what you are—not what you pretend to be."

Her voice broke on that last word, but she didn't look away. She just stood there under the faint flicker of the streetlight, waiting for a reaction that might never come.

Xavier stared at her, and for a second, everything around him went quiet. The sound of engines in the distance, honks of the traffic, even the cold wind that usually cut through the city—all of it faded out. It was just her. Standing there under the pale, broken glow of the lamp, bare in the kind of honesty that hit harder than any blade or bullet ever could.

He didn't move. He didn't even blink. His mind just… stalled. For the first time in a long while, there was no noise inside him—no anger, no plans, no calculation. Just her words, replaying again and again, bleeding through the silence like they were carved into him. He just stared at her, and for once, there was something in his chest that he couldn't name. Maybe it was guilt. Maybe it was something worse.

He opened his mouth to say something, anything—but before the words could form, a voice echoed inside his head, which maybe wasn't even his.

'To love is to die. To die is to rise. To rise is to conquer. The emperor conquers.'

It hit him like a cold pulse through his veins, sharp enough to drown out everything else.

He blinked once, and the sound of the world came crashing back in—the city hum, the faint whistle of wind past his ears, Reva's soft breathing. He looked at her again, his eyes colder now.

"I'll see you soon," he said, voice calm, almost too calm.

Then he twisted the throttle. The bike roared to life, and before Reva could even take a step forward, he was already gone—just the echo of his engine fading into the distance, leaving her standing alone in the quiet street, holding onto a love that had nowhere to go.

Perhaps.