The silence inside Raven's office was oppressive—so thick it felt alive. Ice's absence lingered like a phantom, refusing to be ignored. She had chaos, noise, color. Without her, everything felt muted… too quiet. Too exposed.
A life without Ice.
He had never bothered to imagine it. She had always been there—loud, overbearing, protective to a fault. Now, she was gone. And in her absence, the world felt unfamiliar, as though someone had shifted the axis of reality while he wasn't looking.
His pen stilled over the contract he'd been pretending to read.
That was when he heard it.
Engines.
Deep. Heavy. Multiples.
Not the typical quiet approach of expected guests—but the sharp, synchronized halt of predators assembling.
Raven stood slowly. Moved toward the floor-to-ceiling windows.
A convoy of black cars had lined up in front of his company like a row of loaded guns. Their glossy frames reflected the sun in violent flares, the air around them thick with silent threat.
Every employee on the ground level had stilled. Some frozen in mid-step, others hiding behind desks, eyes fixed wide on the scene unfolding.
Doors opened.
Boots hit concrete.
And there he was.
Walking like night had taken human shape.
Thanin.
Sharp suit. Hands in his pockets. Expression unreadable. Each step he took carried the unspoken certainty of a man who did not come to ask—he came to claim.
At his side was Dante, visibly nervous, his lips moving in hushed insistence.
> "You should rethink your decision, man. We can't just barge in like this—"
> "Not another word from you, Dante," Thanin cut sharply, gaze fixed forward. It wasn't just a warning. It was a command. Final. Absolute.
Raven's breath caught.
Why now?
Why here?
His pulse thundered, confusion tangling with something darker. Something he refused to name.
Downstairs, a young receptionist stood frozen as Thanin approached her desk. She tried her best to maintain professionalism, but her hands trembled against the keyboard.
"E-Excuse me, sir," she managed, voice soft. "You aren't scheduled for any appointments with my boss today."
Thanin paused.
Slowly, he tilted his head—just enough to acknowledge her.
"I'm aware," he replied calmly. "Inform him that Mr. Thanin is here to see him."
The name crashed through the lobby like thunder.
People stiffened.
Whispers spread.
Thanin. The one name that even criminals avoided speaking loudly.
The receptionist swallowed before dialing.
> "H-Hello sir?"
> "Yes?" Raven's voice came from the other end.
> "A man named Mr. Thanin is here to see you…"
Silence.
Then—
> "What?"
> "Mr. Thanin, sir."
A pause.
A heartbeat.
Then the words she'd been waiting for:
> "...Let him in."
She exhaled shakily and motioned toward the elevator.
Thanin didn't spare her a second glance.
---
Raven stepped away from the window.
His reflection stared back—steady posture, calm expression. A perfect mask.
But beneath it…
His pulse raged.
Why is he here?
He remembered Ice's warning.
> "Thanin… Don't let him break your heart, Raven, 'cause I'll break his limbs."
But Ice wasn't here.
And Thanin was already on his way up.
Raven moved behind his desk, forcing composure. One steady breath. Another.
He's just a man, he told himself.
He's just a man.
But when the elevator chimed and the doors slid open…
He realized he had lied to himself.
Thanin wasn't just anything.