Lucian drives with one hand on the wheel, the other braced on the console like he’s ready to steady me if I tip. I start to look around the cab when I notice something small and important is missing.
“Where is Sir Sassafrass?” I could really use some good snuggles from him right now.
“Rowan took him to his hotel. Korbyn needed him, and thankfully, James didn’t go into my room and hurt him.”
The image of Lucian offering up his emotional support cat like a peace offering softens something inside me. “You just let Rowan take him?” I tease.
“No. I offered for him to take Sir Sass,” Lucian says, a small smile tugging at his mouth. “Korbyn needed the comfort more than I did. Sir Sass is a professional at being dramatic and soothing at the same time. He’ll be back later, probably furious that I abandoned him,” he says. “With the concert this weekend, every hotel is booked solid. We had to split everyone up.”
I look over at him. “Split up how?”
“Rowan and Korbyn are at the same hotel. Shiloh and Linkin ended up at the same hotel in the French Quarter. You and I got a place a few blocks from them, it was the only room left in a thirty-mile radius.”
“Is Korbyn really okay?” I ask, staring down at my phone, waiting for the typing bubbles that still haven’t appeared.
“Rowan said she’s shaken,” Lucian admits. “Between him and her security detail, nothing will happen to her.”
I nod, swallowing the knot in my throat. James used my rig, my books, my space as a weapon to hurt someone I care about. The anger sits hot and steady beneath my ribs.
The SUV slows, turning into a small hotel lot tucked between two narrow buildings. Warm light spills from the lobby windows, soft and golden, a stark contrast to the flashing red and blue still burned into my vision.
Lucian grabs my bag from the backseat before I can reach for it. “Come on,” he says quietly. “Let’s get you inside.”
I follow him toward the entrance, expecting the world to feel sharp and hostile after everything that happened, but the moment the doors slide open, the atmosphere shifts.
The lobby is alive.
Lucian gives me a small nod and steps toward the front desk, leaving me near the center of the lobby. I stay where I am, letting the scene unfold around me like a balm I didn’t know I needed.
Clusters of people in concert outfits fill the space. They’re laughing, leaning into each other, scrolling through their phones with breathless excitement. Someone squeals, replaying the moment of the concert that made everyone breathless. Another group tries to mimic one of my choreo hits, their timing off, but their joy is unmistakable.
For the first time since the break-in, something inside me loosens.
These people came for the music, for the escape, and the version of me that exists under stage lights, not the one who just watched her life get torn apart. Seeing them, flushed with adrenaline, still buzzing from the show, feels like stepping into a pocket of warmth I didn’t know I needed.
For a moment, I just stand there and let myself feel every piece of it. The warmth, the life, and the proof that something I built tonight mattered to someone.
A soft step approaches, as Lucian returns to my side. He doesn’t interrupt the moment; he just waits until my eyes lift to his.
“I have our keys,” he says quietly, holding out one of the keycards. “We can head up whenever you’re ready.”
I take the card, fingers brushing his, and glance once more at the lobby full of people who have no idea what happened tonight, who are still glowing from the music and the lights and the version of me that exists onstage.
“Okay,” I say, exhaling slowly. “I’m ready.”
Lucian nods, falling into step beside me as we move toward the elevators, the laughter and music-buzzed chatter fading behind us like a softer, kinder echo of the night.
The elevator doors slide open with a soft chime, and Lucian gestures for me to go inside first. The moment the doors close, the noise of the lobby fades, replaced by a quiet hum and the faint echo of our breathing. The space feels small in a comforting way, like the world has finally stopped spinning long enough for me to catch up.
Lucian stands beside me, close enough that the heat of him brushes my arm. I didn’t realize how much I missed that steadiness until now, how much I missedhim. I greedily fill my lungs with his comforting scent of lavender and leather; it wraps around me in the way I can’t help but wish he would.
He watches the floor numbers climb, jaw set, shoulders broad and protective in the dim elevator light. I let myself lean a fraction closer, just enough that our arms graze. He doesn’t pull away. If anything, he shifts almost imperceptibly toward me, like he’s been holding himself back all night and this is the first moment he’s allowed himself to breathe.
When the elevator dings for our floor, he steps out first, scanning the hallway before nodding for me to follow.
He unlocks the room and pushes the door open, letting me step inside ahead of him.
Walking in, I can’t help but be thankful for the dim, warm room. It feels like a cocoon compared to the chaos of the day.
