Page 18

Amelia

The applause still echoed in my ears as I stepped off the makeshift stage, my cheeks warm and my pulse fluttering from the speech I’d just given.

It had been for him.

It was my prelude to our inevitability.

A correction of my mistakes.

The lights twinkled overhead in the Blackthorn courtyard, the night humming with celebration. The music had started again and people were already making their way toward the center of the courtyard to dance.

Logan and Kaylan were the first to brave the floor.

Kaylan looked radiant—not in the glittering, show-stopping way people expect of a bridesmaid, but in her own quiet, effortless way. She’d opted out of the dress Leora had picked. Instead, she wore a sleek emerald green jumpsuit that hugged her frame like it was made just for her. Elegant. Sharp.

But it was Logan’s face that made my heart soften. That kind of wonder in a man’s eyes? That shit can’t be faked. He looked like he’d never seen anything more divine. But I wasn’t a stranger to that look now, was I?

I was about to go find Kabir when a familiar voice drawled behind me.

“Beautiful speech.”

I turned to find Sebastian—drink in hand, jacket discarded, sleeves rolled, as if he owned the night.

He extended a hand. “Shall we?”

My eyes flicked to the glass in his other hand. “Is that alcohol?”

“It’s a wedding, Falcon,” he said with a theatrical roll of his eyes—though his gaze darted across the room like it had a mission of its own.

He reluctantly set his glass aside and looked at me again—a plea in his gaze.

I exhaled, slipping my hand into his. “Fine, one song. And stop scanning the crowd like you’re waiting for someone to jump you.”

Sebastian blinked, caught. “What?”

I lifted a brow. “Someone named Inez, perhaps?”

He groaned, deep and dramatic. “I’m just making sure the devil doesn’t slither onto the dance floor.”

I laughed as he pulled me onto the floor. “You’re so stupid.”

“She brings it out in me,” he muttered, but there was something softer underneath—something almost… fond. I didn’t miss it.

As we moved, something shifted. His hand at my lower back spread wider, his grip subtly tighter. I followed his gaze over my shoulder, just in time to catch Inez dancing with Mateo—too close, too familiar.

Sebastian’s jaw ticked.

I didn’t call him out. I didn’t have to. His whole body was giving him away, and it made me want to grin.

But, naturally, he pivoted. “We need to figure out what Romlinson actually means. Not just the name, the whole network. Kabir’s the key. He needs to find an in to the White House.”

His voice was smooth, too smooth—but his fingers twitched. And sure enough, his eyes flicked toward Inez again.

“It’s a wedding, Seb. Can we leave the theories out of the slow dance?” I twirled, catching another glimpse of Inez laughing at something Mateo said. She was good at that—laughing in ways that drew every eye. Especially Seb’s.

“And you do realize we’re not fake-dating anymore,” I added, eyeing his tight grip on me. “You can stop pretending to seduce me.”

He smirked. “Who said I was pretending?”

I frowned, stepping back slightly, but he reeled me in—closer this time. His heart beat steady against mine, a contradiction to the storm in his expression.

“My speech was for him, Seb,” I whispered. “I’m sorry, but it’s him. It never was not him.”

His smile didn’t falter. Not even a crack. He simply nodded.

“I know,” he said. “I guess I just thought… maybe something real could come out of it.”

I offered a small, sad smile. “It couldn’t have. I told you. And you’re just as taken as I am.”

He tensed. “I have no clue what you’re talking about,” he replied, but his hold on me tightened. “This heart lost its capacity for love a long time ago. But when we were… together, you helped. You helped me more than you know.”

“We were barely together, Seb. It was familiarity. We’ve known each other for years.”

“Decades,” he murmured, almost wistfully.

“What’s bothering you?”

He chuckled and then paused in contemplation. “You know we’ve technically been on three dates?”

I blinked. “Oh? You’re counting the nights I spent dumping alcohol down your sink?”

“Yeah. Three. Count them.” He spun me smoothly, his rhythm effortless.

Then, when we faced each other again, he said, “I want a goodbye kiss, Lia.”

Lia?

Did he just call me Lia?

I meant to say no to the kiss.

But I didn’t get the chance.

He kissed me—quick, chaste. A parting, not a proposition.

But it felt wrong. For so many reasons.

When we parted, I caught his gaze locked onto something over my shoulder. He was frozen.

I turned and saw Inez.

Her shoulders were stiff, lips parted. Her expression caught somewhere between disbelief and cold calculation.

My stomach dropped.

I looked back at Sebastian. “Did you just—?”

“No!” he said quickly as if coming out of a daze. “Absolutely not.”

My voice dropped, sharp and low. “You used me. How drunk are you?”

“I didn’t—”

“You’re talking to an ex-FBI drone expert who started her career as a profiler first. Don’t fucking lie to me, Sebastian.”

His groan was loud enough to draw eyes.

“She’s a fucking menace!” he hissed. Inez and Mateo were already disappearing into the crowd.

“What is it about her?” I demanded. “She did jack shit just now. Why are you so bent—”

He lifted his hands in surrender, exhaled hard, then stepped toward me with cautious eyes. “I’m not bent about her,” he said slowly. “And I didn’t use you.”

A pause. Then, quieter—

“Not intentionally.”

I rolled my eyes, and he visibly winced.

“Go chase your devil, Ranger.”

And before Sebastian could make a scene at the wedding, I walked away—praying I could explain this to Kabir.

Kabir

He just had to swoop in, didn’t he?

She danced with him.

After giving the whole speech—basically confessing—she went and danced with him.

And before I could make it to the dance floor, before I could even think of cutting in, the bastard kissed her.

What made it worse? I saw the look on her face. The shock. The way her body froze when she realized he had used her.

I saw him—Sebastian—watching that curly-haired woman earlier. That kiss wasn’t about Amelia. It was a move. Tactical. Intentional.

But my brain couldn’t keep up with logic.

All I could see was him kissing her. Kissing the lips I had dreamed of. The lips I’d barely gotten a taste of when she kissed me weeks ago.

Fuck.

Hope was a fragile fucking thing. And it shattered in the space between them.

Which was why I was now staring into the bottom of my whiskey glass—wishing it could erase what I’d just seen.

There was a skull etched there.

I’d made a game out of it—how fast could I down the drink and leave just enough poison behind to fill only the eye holes… sockets?

I failed every single time.

Apparently, I’d annoyed the bartender with my refill requests, because at some point, he just handed me the whole bottle.

Mercy.

Didn’t he know this was a brilliant fucking game?

The prize? Two perfect little holes.

Right in Sebastian’s skull.

No one wanted to kiss a dead, holey man. Well… necro—

“You need to leave, Mr. Gill.” Oh, so now the bartender cared.

“I don’t take threats to the man who pays me lightly,” he added, voice laced with warning.

I sighed sadly. “He pays you lightly? I thought he was a billionaire.”

Snapping my attention away from his unprovoked eye roll, I glanced down the bar. Zane was mid-conversation with Ronan when I slammed my palm against the marble counter.

“Zane!”

His head snapped up. Alarm flickered across his face—but then it turned to frustration. Then pure exasperation when he noticed the bottle in my hand.

He walked off without saying a word.

The fuck?

“He’s bringing reinforcements,” Ronan said, appearing beside me like a bouncer from hell.

I blinked at him, focusing on the ink crawling beneath his buzz cut. “I thought you were reinforcementssss.”

A chuckle escaped him.

The moment I reached for the bottle again—after yet another failed attempt at skull-eye-shot perfection—Ronan’s much larger hand clamped around my forearm.

Before I could register that, it was replaced—aggressively—by Zane’s.

“Logan,” Zane muttered. “Keep an eye on him. I’ll be right back.”

“Zane, don’t leave—”

But he was already turning away. Ronan along with him.

“And he speaks his mind when drunk,” Zane added. “Don’t let him make any decisions.”

“I got him, brother,” Logan said with a chuckle, sliding into the seat beside me. “Relax.”

I scowled at my drink. The skull grinned back. Still fucking empty-eyed.

“You called him brother,” I mumbled, eyes fixed on my glass.

“Yeah,” Logan adjusted his massive frame on the tiny barstool. “You’re all my brothers.”

I scoffed. “I’m only Kavya’s brother. And I can’t even talk to her.”

“You can talk to me,” he offered softly.

I looked at him then. His face—sincere, steady, concerned. “When did you start calling Ghost… Zar?”

Logan blinked, then frowned. “I don’t know,” he cleared his throat. “Maybe when we first joined the CIA? Why?”

I nodded, letting that sit for a second. “And Titan… Dyl?”

“Kabir?” Logan’s hand landed on my shoulder. “What exactly are you asking?”

I shrugged, lips twisting. “Nothing.”

My eyes scanned the crowd, searching for her. I hadn’t had the guts earlier. I kept imagining her and Sebastian sneaking off to continue their kiss-fest from the damn dance floor.

“She’s in the bathroom,” Logan murmured.

Before I could react, Zane returned and clapped a hand against my back. “Why is he drinking? Do we know?”

And just like that, the two of them started talking like I wasn’t even fucking there.

“He’s drinking,” I snapped, “because the woman he loves was making out on the dance floor with a man who was clearly using her.”

Zane blinked. “Seb?” Confusion all over his face, like his golden boy-boss could never do anything wrong.

“Yes, your precious Seb,” I clumsily waved my hand in his general direction, “used her to make some random woman jealous.”

The second I said it, realization hit me. Was that it? Was Amelia using him… to make me jealous?

Were we really pulling high school tactics now?

No. I needed answers.

I pushed off the barstool to stand, but Logan’s hand clamped gently on my shoulder.

“Don’t stop me, brother,” I bit out.

“I wasn’t,” he said quickly, stepping back. “You were swaying. You sure you’re alright?”

I nodded on a thick swallow. “I’m fine.”

Fuck. I needed to see her.

As I started toward the far end of the courtyard, heading for the guest bathrooms, I heard Logan’s footsteps behind me. I spun around—too fast—and stumbled.

“What?” I snapped.

“Kabir, listen,” he said, grabbing the back of my neck and forcing me to look at him. “You love her. I know. But don’t say it to her when you’re this drunk. Okay?”

I laughed, bitter. “I already told her, Logan. Weeks ago. I told her everything. Just like you told me to.”

The laugh faded into something self-deprecating. “It didn’t change a thing. She’s still dating him. But… I don’t know. Something doesn’t add up.”

He nodded slowly. “Okay. Just… be careful with your words. You can’t take them back once they’re out.”

A shadow crossed his face—like something in him cracked. I think I knew what he was remembering. That night in the lounge. The names he’d called Kaylan when his whole world was collapsing. I could still hear them. Even drunk.

Fuck, it still haunted him, didn’t it?

“You gave her better words after, didn’t you, Lo?”

His smile was soft and instant. “Yeah. I did.”

“I’ll be fine. I promise.”

I was just turning away when he called out again.

“Brother!”

I looked back and stumbled slightly. But I wasn’t sure if it was because I was drunk or because he called me ‘brother’.

He grinned. “You’re the only one who knows about the engagement. So…”

He made a zipping motion across his lips.

I returned it with a sloppy salute and a smile before heading toward the main hall. And the smile didn’t fade—not until I saw her.