Chapter 16
Aurelia
FLASHBACK
Six years ago
Ican still feel it—the way Elijah leaned in, the way Gen laughed against him, the tender press of their lips. My stomach flips again, this time doing somersaults in molten metal. My hands cling to my sides, trying not to imagine it more than I already have, but it’s impossible. Every nerve in my body is lit. I should feel angry. Betrayed. But mostly? I feel small.
I tell myself I’m imagining it. That maybe Elijah didn’t… no, I saw it.I saw it.And it burns, right behind my ribs. All the confidence I’d built up—the ‘he wants me, I want him, Enzo doesn’t get a say’—crumbles into shards that cut my palms when I ball them into fists.
I push through the crowd that carries outside, past a half-circle of people laughing and grinding against each other, ignoring the thrum of bass beneath my boots. I stumble into the alley beside the club, cool air hitting me once more. The city smells of smoke and sex, as if I even know what that smells like.
Elijah. He was supposed to be my first. My first kiss, my first everything.
Hot tears I can’t stop roll down my cheeks. I wipe at them furiously, muttering, “Perfect.”
That’s when I hear a deep cough, the clearing of a throat.
I freeze, pressing my hands to my face.
My chest hitches as I twist my neck. I hadn’t even thought to look around, to check and make sure I was safe.
Hello, of course I’m not safe.I’m in a dark, secluded place, basically on Russian grounds.
There’s a dim flickering light in the corner, but I don’t think it would even be enough to see my face.
I can’t see, but from where the cough came from, I know someone is standing in the shadows near the wall.
“Is someone there?”
I already know.
A man steps into the faint light, an unlit cigarette in hand. He looks relaxed, but he’s not smiling. There’s something in his gaze—intense, quiet, the kind of stare that makes you feel like he knows more about you than he should.
I glance down, trying to blink away the tears, trying to let myself see more than just a blur of danger.
The man slips his cigarette between his lips and lights it, seeming to give me time to collect myself.
When I wipe the tears and mascara from my cheeks, he tilts the cigarette, offering it.
“You want one?” His voice is low, smooth, not threatening.
I hesitate, my hands fidgeting with the hem of my dress. Normally, I’d say no. Normally, I wouldn’t even talk to someone I don’t know. Especially not someone I can’t really see. But the raw heat of jealousy, the sting of betrayal, the adrenaline from dancing—it makes my mouth move before I can stop it.
“Yeah. Sure.” I step closer, my fingers brushing his as he hands it to me. The contact is light, fleeting, but it sends a jolt straight to my chest.
I inhale too much, coughing immediately, and embarrassment flushes my cheeks, but he doesn’t laugh or tease. He just watches, calm and unreadable.
“First time?” he asks.
I snort and lie instantly, “No.”
He doesn’t call me out. He just takes back his cigarette, inhaling once, leaving me to watch the tip glowing in the dark. I try to give him space as he blows a puff of smoke over us, but within seconds he’s holding the cigarette back to me.
I reach for it but he pulls back, shaking his head, and almost as if I can read his mind, I lean forward. Wrapping my lips around the edge and looking up at his eyes. Those I can see. Dark and red eyes.
I breathe in, inhaling like oxygen and releasing quickly, trying to avoid another coughing fit.
