People move around us—tourists, high rollers, vacationers in varying states of dress. Some glance at us. Some recognize us instantly. Some linger.
I don’t care.
My attention flicks constantly—Sera, exits, threats, reflections.
Sera looks just as overwhelmed as I feel, her fingers fidgeting with mine.
The elevator doors open soundlessly.
“This place is amazing…” she breathes.
I lean in, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.
“I think it falls short compared to you, baby.”
She giggles softly.
“Get a fucking room, you two,” Chace mutters.
“That’s the plan.”
The elevator rises in silence.
I catalogue everything.
If something goes wrong, I need a path.
The doors open directly into the suite.
Floor-to-ceiling windows reveal the city sprawling beneath us. The space is obscene—white marble, dark wood, soft lighting, a living area larger than most homes.
I guide Sera inside first.
Niko and Chace step in briefly behind us.
“Security detail has been briefed. No one reaches this floor without clearance. I’ll have surveillance feeds patched to your phone within the hour.”
“Thank you.”
They leave.
The door shuts.
Silence settles.
For the first time today, there is no movement, no echo of danger.
Just us.
I release a slow breath.
It hurts.
The pain arrives quietly—my ribs protesting with every inhale, a sharp pull along my side reminding me exactly how hard I drove my fist into my father’s body—and how hard he drove his into mine.
Adrenaline is a liar.
Now it fades.
