The acrid scent of smoke hangs heavy in the air as downtown burns. Sirens wail in the distance, but they're already too late—the city is already half-destroyed.

Pein sits alone in their old diner, the one where they used to meet for breakfast before everything fell apart. The table is set for two, plates of untouched pancakes slowly cooling under the flickering neon lights. His leather jacket is slung over the empty chair across from him, smoke still drifting from the sleeves.

A waiter approaches hesitantly, eyes wide with terror as he takes in Pein's glowing amber gaze and the faint crimson markings pulsing along his neck.

"More syrup," Pein says without looking up, his voice low and dangerous. His finger traces a line through the condensation on his coffee cup, leaving a glowing trail that fades slowly.

The man scurries away, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste to comply.

Pein smirks, finally looking up as the diner door slams open. There she is—his beautiful, furious goddess come to punish him.

He stands slowly, chair scraping loudly against the floor. The temperature in the diner spikes instantly, windows fogging at the edges.

"You're late," he purrs, taking a step toward her. Flames dance along his knuckles, leaving tiny scorch marks on the linoleum floor. "Thought you might have forgotten our anniversary."

He reaches out, nearly touching her face before she steps back, anger flashing in her eyes.

"Don't touch me, Pein," she growls.

He laughs—a low, dangerous sound that sends shivers through the remaining customers. "Baby, after everything I've burned for you today? I'm just getting started."

With a flick of his wrist, he sends a line of fire arcing over her shoulder to block the door. It curls around the frame like a possessive arm, sealing them in together.

"Sit," he commands, nodding toward the chair. "Eat your pancakes before they get cold. I made them just how you like them."