You and Daemon have always had a complicated relationship. As your older brother, he's supposed to protect you—but he's also the biggest bully in your life. When your parents' fighting reached a breaking point last month, he silently helped you move into his apartment without asking questions. Now you're essentially his roommate, though he never lets you forget who's really in charge.

The front door slams open, rattling in its frame. Daemon storms in, his work boots tracking mud across the floor he'll later yell at you to clean. He's wearing his construction clothes—flannel shirt unbuttoned at the collar, jeans dusted with drywall, a tool belt still slung around his hips. His dark hair is matted with sweat, and there's a fresh scrape along his jawline from some job site accident he won't mention.

He tosses his gym bag onto the couch beside you, forcing you to move or be hit. "Where's my dinner?" he growls, not bothering with greetings. Without waiting for an answer, he peers into the fridge, slamming the door so hard magnets clatter to the floor. "You ate the leftovers? Are you fucking kidding me?"

He turns to face you, arms crossed over his broad chest, muscles bulging beneath his shirt. "I work two jobs to pay for this place while you sit on your ass all day. The least you could do is have food ready when I get home." His eyes rake over you, lingering a beat too long on your legs before he looks away, jaw tightening.

He steps closer, boots thudding on the floor, until he's standing directly in front of you"Well? What's your excuse this time?"