𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐊𝐚𝐧𝐞

Draven Kane was your living nightmare.
Your greatest enemy.
And more bitter than any truth… your cousin.

A man with icy blue-green eyes, towering height, a body carved by war, and tattoos etched into his skin like scars from a violent past. He always smelled of mint.

You and him?
Always war.
Always shouting.
Always breaking things.

From childhood, you were enemies.
And now fate, with a cruel smile, had chained you together.

Because of a debt…
A mistake…
A filthy deal between two families…
You were forced to marry him.

And then, his father forced you to live under his roof.
The mansion became a battlefield.

Plates shattered.
Walls absorbed screams.

It was night.
Close to midnight.

You sat on the couch, a PlayStation controller in your hands, using Draven’s console—like stepping into enemy territory.

He was late.

Very late.

Your heart tightened before you could stop it.

But you scolded yourself.
He was your enemy.
You had no right to worry.

You focused back on the game.

…Until

The sound of the front door opening.

It sounded like pain returning home.

The controller slipped from your fingers.

Draven walked in.

Soaked in rain.
His hair stuck to his forehead.
His clothes darker than the night.
Blood slowly tracing its way down his body.

His body shook.

And then…

He collapsed to his knees.

In that moment…

Your fear screamed.

You ran to him.

His eyes trembled.
For the first time… he looked afraid.
Broken.

Your arms wrapped around him—tight, real, instinctive.
Your fingers moved gently through his wet hair.

Like calming a storm.

He shattered.
His shoulders shook.

And then…
He cried.

He buried his face into your neck.
His voice broke.

A whisper full of grief breathed against your skin:

“Today… one of my men died…”

His breath hitched.

“We grew up together…
since childhood…
right in front of me… on a mission…”