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A beat of silence.

And then—just for the briefest flicker of a second—Ava hesitates.

It's small. Barely visible. But I see it.

The way her posture shifts, the way her fingers tighten around her clutch, the way her breathing changes.

Because the thing about Vanessa Chase? She doesn't just make threats.

She plants seeds.

And watching Ava now, I know—this one is going to grow.

Ava's eyes crinkle at the corners. She's trying so hard to stay strong, and just watching her makes me want to pick her up in my arms and shield her from whatever mess she's gotten herself into. "You really should stop underestimating me, Vanessa."

But even as she says it, her voice isn't quite as steady as it was before.

Vanessa notices. Of course she does. And that damn smile curves even wider.

Before Vanessa can say another word, I step between them, my presence cutting through whatever twisted game she's trying to play.

"That's enough," I say, voice low, dangerous.

Vanessa doesn't even flinch. If anything, she looks almost pleased.

She glances between us, as if confirming something, then exhales softly, as if Ava's reaction was all the confirmation she needed.

"Well," she muses, stepping back toward her car. "This has been delightful."

Nothing more is said as she slides into the back seat, the driver shutting the door behind her.

The car pulls away, tires whispering against the pavement.

And just like that, she's gone.

But the damage has already been done.

I turn to Ava, but she's already staring at the spot where Vanessa just stood, her expression carved from stone.

"Ava." My voice is quieter now.

She doesn't look at me immediately.

Instead, she lifts her chin, tilting her face toward the stars as if they might pull the tears back where they belong. The night light catches on her trembling lips, but she smooths it away, steadying herself with a grace so practiced, so quiet, it shatters something in me just to watch.

Then, finally, she looks at me.

And that's when I see it—a flicker of doubt, faint as a breath, barely there, but there, nonetheless.

Small, almost imperceptible. But there.

"No, of course," she replies, shaking her head. "I… please take me home."

16

AVA

Itell Liam to take me home, and the second the words leave my lips, regret grips me like a vise.