The alley became a war zone in an instant.

Steel cut through the air.

Instinct took over.

He shoved her backward — out of harm’s reach — just as the knife slashed toward his throat.

CLANG!

He blocked it, the impact vibrating through his bones. His opponent’s smirk widened. “Still fast, huh?”

No words. No hesitation.

He countered.

A blur of motion. A dance of death.

Each strike was lethal — every move designed to kill.

She had never seen him fight before.

Not like this.

His movements were too precise, too practiced. Like he had done this a thousand times before.

And the worst part?

He wasn’t just fighting to win.

He was fighting to kill.

The man dodged, his laughter sharp and taunting. “You haven’t changed.” A swipe of his blade — aimed at her this time.

His eyes darkened.

No.

He intercepted before the knife could reach her, twisting his opponent’s arm and slamming him into the wall.

“Stay out of this,” he growled, pressing his forearm against the man’s throat.

But the bastard only grinned. “Why? Because you think you can change fate this time?” His voice was a whisper now, low and deadly. “She always dies, you know.”

Something inside him snapped.

He slammed his fist into the man’s face.

Once.

Twice.

Thrice.

His breaths were ragged, his knuckles bleeding.

The past kept looping, the same scene over and over — him losing her.

Not this time.

The man chuckled, spitting blood onto the pavement. “Still so predictable. Tell me — “ he glanced at her, “does she know what you are?”

The question froze him.

She had been watching everything, her eyes wide — not with fear, but with something worse.

Realization.

The puzzle pieces were clicking into place.

The way he always knew things before they happened.

The way he moved like a soldier from another time.

The nightmares he never spoke about.

She whispered, almost breathless, “Who… who are you?”

The man beneath him smirked. “Oh, sweetheart, you’re going to love this part.”

And in the next second —

Smoke exploded around them.

A distraction.

By the time it cleared, the man was gone.

Only the bloodstains remained.

Silence.

The fight was over, but something heavier settled between them.

She took a step back. “You knew him.”

He didn’t answer.

“You’re not just some quiet guy who sits on a park bench, are you?” Her voice wavered. “You knew him, and he knew you.”

Still, he said nothing.

Because this was the moment, he feared the most.

Not the fight.

Not the enemy.

But her knowing the truth.

She exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

He met her gaze. “You’re not.”

The words hit like a bullet.

A shiver ran through her. “Then tell me what the hell is going on.”

He clenched his fists.

He had spent sixteen lives hiding. Running.

But now?

Now, fate had cornered him.

No more lies.

He exhaled.

And then, for the first time in this life —

He told her only those things that he thinks would make her at ease.