Jack appeared a moment later, leaning against the doorframe with his usual lopsided grin, which always seemed too wide for his face. His hair was tousled, and he wore that same ancient T-shirt, yellowed with age and full of holes.
“Just my usual,” he said with a smile.
I grabbed my purse from behind the counter and slung it over my shoulder. “We’ll be back soon,” I said to Jack without turning around.
Olivia slipped her small hand into mine as we left the store. The bell above the door gave its familiar jingle—a sound that usually felt comforting but now rang hollow, like a lullaby played in a haunted room. The wooden door creaked shut behind us, sealing the shop’s air away.
Outside, the world had darkened.
The sky churned overhead, a dense sea of gray clouds sagging low like a curtain on the verge of collapsing. The scent ofimpending rain hung in the air, clinging to my skin and filling my lungs. A low rumble of thunder rolled across the distance, deep, like the exhale of something ancient.
Then came the lightning.
Jagged streaks split the sky open, bathing the street in a harsh, fleeting glow. Shadows danced in the corners of buildings, and for a moment, everything looked warped—distorted—like the world was bending under the weight of something unseen.
I glanced up, frowning. “Go back inside,” I said to Olivia, my voice brisk and edged with urgency. “I’ll grab the umbrella from the car.”
She gave me a brief, uncertain look but obeyed without a word, her small footsteps retreating behind me as I stepped into the storm.
I moved quickly, darting across the slick street, dodging umbrellas and ankle-deep puddles. The rain was relentless, soaking through my clothes in seconds and pelting my skin like ice. By the time I reached the parking lot, my hands were trembling, and my breath was short.
I fumbled with the keys, muttering as they slipped from my wet fingers. Finally, I unlocked the door and yanked it open. Reaching the back seat, I grabbed the dark-blue umbrella, shook off the excess water, and snapped it open.
And then I saw him.
He was standing just a few feet away.
Perfectly still.
His hair, jet-black and drenched, clung to his forehead. His clothes, soaked and pressed against his body, looked as if the storm had tried to claim him, but failed. The chaos of the world around us dulled, the noise of the rain faded to static, and the air between us seemed to still.
Balthazar.
He wore black, as always, like a shadow given flesh. His eyes—blazing, electric—locked on mine with the intensity of a man who had waited too long and seen too much.
I couldn’t breathe.
His midnight hair framed the face I had memorized—those sharp cheekbones, the strong jawline, the lips that had once known every inch of my skin. The years had not dulled him; if anything, helooked more dangerous, more untouchable. And yet... all I could feel washome.
A wave of emotion surged inside me, raw and unstoppable.
I had betrayed him—meticulously, deliberately. I’d written a false journal, fed him lies, sent him on a fool’s chase. I’d told myself it was for survival. For Olivia. For the mission.
But every night, I thought of him.
Us.
Running.
Fucking.
Free.
I had missed him more than breath itself. And now—here he stood. As if time had bent to bring us back together. As if the storm had summoned him from the shadows of my regret.
I wanted to reach out. To touch his face. To saysomething. Anything.
But I couldn’t move.
