“Aria, wait—”
“If it’s Kian,” I say, shoulders squared, “I want to face him myself.”
My hand shakes slightly on the knob, but I force it steady. The door creaks open, and relief slams into me so fast my knees almost give.
“Hey,” Rowe says softly.
I don’t say anything, just stand there, staring at him like an idiot. His hair’s a mess, pushed back but still falling in uneven waves across his brow. He smells of pine and rain-drenched earth, of wind and wild places, as if the outside is still clinging to his skin. Rowe’s presence settles in my ribs, stillness against the noise I’ve grown used to surviving. Before I can think better of it, I step into his space and wrap my arms around him.
Rowe freezes, his breath stuttering against my neck before instinct takes over and his arms slowly fold around me. The shirt is soft beneath my fingers, damp at the collar where he hadn’t bothered to shield from the rain, his shoulder fitting against mine with the same familiarity as before, it’s pathetic how quickly I sink into it.
Raze clears his throat behind us, and I jump back, guilt flooding my cheeks.What am I doing?Minutes ago, I was reminiscing about Dom, missing him so much it hurt, and now here I am throwing myself into another man’s arms.
When I glance at Raze, his expression isn’t judgmental. Just . . . understanding. Quiet sympathy flickers in his eyes as they move between us.
“Want me to give you a minute?” he asks.
“Are you sure? You’re not supposed to leave me alone.”
Raze shrugs. “Not like they can punish you more than they already will. I’ll be right outside.”
The door clicks shut behind him, sealing us in silence.
“I saw your interview,” Rowe says simply.
I shift, moving toward the kitchen to put some space between us. “If you’re here to lectureme—”
“Actually,” he interrupts, a faint curve pulling at his mouth, “I’m here because Margaux asked me for a favor.”
That stops me mid-step. “Dom’s sister?”
“Trust me, I was just as confused. She can be persuasive when she wants something.”
“Persuasive?”
“Terrifying is probably more accurate.” He drags a hand through his hair, making the mess worse. “She tracked me down before I went to see my father, to inform me I’d be stealing some security footage for you.”
Despite everything, a laugh bubbles up. “That sounds like Margaux.”
“I’ve faced down rabid chimeras that were less intimidating.” His eyes meet mine, and for a moment, the familiar warmth in them makes me forget everything else.
“What footage did she ask you to steal?”
“From the night your parents died. But I didn’t steal anything. I asked Alexander directly.”
“You what?”
“He gave them to me.” He lowers his gaze. “After I agreed to his terms about the sanctuary.”
I still. “Rowe, what did you do?”
“Don’t worry about it.” He pulls out a data crystal, its surface catching the light in shifting hues. “I know how much this means to you.”
I swallow hard, gesturing toward the hallway. “My room. We can watch it there.”
He follows, his presence behind me a quiet force. When we enter my room, I’m suddenly aware of how intimate it feels. My tea still lingers in the air, while the enchanted ceiling spills starlight across his features, turning the familiar into something too tender.
“This is very you,” he says quietly, eyes sweeping over the floor-to-ceiling shelves, the midnight-toned rugs, the cluttered deskburied beneath dog-eared notes and crumbling parchment. “It’s like walking straight into your mind.”
