Page 7

The leggings cling uncomfortably to my damp skin, but Zaire’s T-shirt drapes over me like armor. What used to be playful—wearing his clothes, stealing them for fun—now feels like my only defense. At this rate, his closet might be empty soon.

Through the bathroom door, I catch the low hum of voices—Talon and Oz, speaking in hushed tones.

I press both palms to the cool sink, grounding myself in the steady, solid chill of porcelain.

When I finally step out of the bathroom, Talon stands by the door, his soaked shirt plastered to his chest and arms. The light from the hallway catches the planes of his face as he turns, tension carved into every angle.

“That was Oz. They’re back from the mansion.”

“Did they…” I trail off. I already know. They were cleaning up what I left behind. Getting rid of the body. The truth slams into me all at once, crushing the air from my lungs.

“Vesper.”

Talon crosses the room in three long strides. His touch is gentle.

“Breathe with me.”

He lifts my hand and places it over his chest, letting me feel the strong, steady rhythm beneath my palm. A silent reminder that life keeps going—mine included.

"Feel that? Match it,” he instructs. “In through your nose, out through your mouth.”

Gradually, the vice around my lungs loosens, and the room stops spinning quite so violently. Talon’s heartbeat steadies me, the rhythmic thump-thump like a lifeline I cling to with everything I have.

“That's it,” he encourages. "You're doing great.”

“I don't know how to do this,” I confess. “How to live with what I've done.”

Talon's expression softens, something like understanding flickering across his features. “You survive it one breath at a time, Vesper. That's all any of us can do.”

The door swings open abruptly, and Zaire strides in with a commanding presence. His attention snaps to Talon's hands, still clasping mine, then drops to take in Talon's drenched clothing, water dripping onto the floor.

"Out,” he orders Talon.

Talon doesn't move. “I don't think that's what Vesper needs right now.”

“I wasn't asking,” Zaire's voice cuts like ice through the room. The silver in his stare has turned to steel, with that dark, stormy edge that only surfaces when his control begins to fray.

I step back from Talon's grip, wrapping my arms around myself. “It's okay,” I tell him softly. “I'm okay now.”

The two men face off in silence, tension thick enough to choke on. I expect Talon to push back, but instead, he gives a slight nod before turning to me. “I'll be just down the hall if you need me," he says softly.

As he passes Zaire in the doorway, their shoulders brush—neither man giving ground.

When the door clicks shut behind Talon, Zaire’s sharp edges fracture. In three swift steps, he’s in front of me, hands trembling slightly as they hover just shy of my skin—uncertain if touch will soothe or shatter.

“Vesper,” he breathes.

Before I can respond, his mouth crashes into mine—raw, aching, desperate. I taste salt, though I can’t tell whose tears they are. His touch finds my face, cupping it with a gentleness that defies the urgency of his kiss. This isn’t just a kiss—it’s grounding, claiming, making sure I’m still here. Still his. Still real.

When we finally part, he studies me without speaking, scanning my expression for something only he understands. His thumbs brush over my cheeks, wiping away tears I hadn’t noticed falling.

“Don’t disappear on me. Not again.”

“I’m here,” I promise, though my voice trembles. "I'm not going anywhere.”

Zaire leans in until our foreheads touch, our breaths mixing in the small space between us. “What happened tonight...it should’ve been me pulling the trigger.”

“No,” I pull back slightly. “Don’t say that.”