“No.” His voice cut clean through the night, controlled, but edged. “And I don’t let her intimidate the people I care about.”
Her heart stuttered.
The people I care about.
The words weren’t loud. But they echoed.
Arden looked away. Scoffed, soft and sharp.
“That’s funny. She just spent the last twenty minutes making sure I know I don’t belong anywhere near you.”
Gideon stepped in closer.
Measured. Steady.
Not to dominate.
To be seen.
“She doesn’t get a say,” he said, the edge in his voice all steel and certainty. “You’re in this with me because I chose you.”
Her breath caught.
He made it sound so simple.
Too simple.
“And what if that choice stops being enough?” she asked, quiet but unflinching.
Something shifted in his eyes—sharpened, storm-bound. His control coiled tighter. And he didn’t look away.
“Then I burn it all down.”
It wasn’t said like a threat.
It was a promise.
Somethingcold and electric slid down her spine. Not fear. Something deeper.
Because he meant it.
She should’ve pushed back. Should’ve told him he didn’t have to burn anything for her.
But the truth?
If someone came forhim, she’d light the match herself.
She swallowed hard. Eyes tracking the sidewalk. The city blurred around the edges of her thoughts.
Then she saw it.
A sliver of soft light across the street—small, tucked between glass towers and late-night taxis. A café. Still open. Still warm.
She nodded toward it.
“I need coffee.”
Gideon didn’t flinch. Didn’t press. He nodded once.
