Love, when forced into the shadows, becomes something far more dangerous.

Something reckless.

Something inevitable.

Ryle felt it now in every breath he took - this unbearable weight pressing against his ribs, not from guilt but from knowing. From feeling.

They were connected in every forbidden way.

He had spent his life outrunning expectations, dodging legacies stitched with power and precision. But Raven was different. With her, he had stopped running. He had surrendered.

And now, knowing who she truly was - what they were - he couldn't pretend he hadn't felt the gravity long before the truth emerged.

The night outside was thick with heat, the scent of rain clinging to the air like a memory that refused to fade. Raven stood at the edge of the balcony, her back to him, her grip on the marble railing so tight her knuckles had gone pale.

He should have stayed away. Should have let her go.

But hours ago, she'd stormed into his apartment, the storm in her chest louder than the one outside. No words. Just the raw demand in her voice and the fire in her eyes: "Don't walk away from this."

So he hadn't.

And now here they were.

Two people torn apart by a truth that had always been just beneath the surface.

Ryle: (quietly) "This is madness."

Raven turned to face him. Her eyes were wide, wild, but steady - lit with a kind of defiant calm that both scared him and broke him.

Raven: "Then let it be madness."

His throat tightened. That look - he knew it too well. She wasn't asking for permission. She never had.

Ryle: (shaking his head) "You don't understand - "

Raven: "I understand enough. More than I want to."

She stepped closer, her movements hesitant at first - like even the air between them could burn. But when she reached out, her fingers didn't tremble. They curled around his wrist, anchoring him.

Raven: (whispers) "I don't care about pacts. Or names. Or blood."

Ryle flinched.

Ryle: "You should. We both should."

Raven: "But we didn't. Not when it mattered. Not when we chose each other."

Her voice cracked, just barely. She looked up at him, eyes brimming with something fierce and fragile.

Raven: "Tell me it wasn't real. That all of it - everything we've been - was some illusion."

Ryle couldn't. He couldn't breathe, let alone lie.

Ryle: (hoarse) "It was real."

Raven: "Then it still is."

Silence. Not the kind that comforts. The kind that screams.

Ryle's hands hovered at her sides, unsure whether to pull her in or push her away. Everything in him - the man, the boy, the brother he never meant to be - was at war.

Ryle: (broken) "You think love is strong enough to survive this?"

Raven's smile was tragic.

Raven: "It's not about surviving anymore. It's about choosing."

She stepped forward until their foreheads nearly touched. He could feel the heat of her skin, the tremble in her breath, the pain in her love.

And he gave in.

Ryle pulled her into him, his hands gripping her like she was the edge of a cliff and he'd already started falling.

The kiss they shared wasn't sweet. It wasn't patient.

It was a question they already knew the answer to.

A spark that didn't care it would burn them.

Love, in its purest form, was never clean.

And theirs - twisted in lineage, knotted in history - wasn't supposed to exist.

But it did.

It burned anyway.

And in that moment, neither of them cared who might get caught in the fire.