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She grimaces as she looks back at him, as if this is physically painful to not be able to say what she wants to say. “It’s not like New York, okay? I’ll just say that you’d fit in there. The both of you.”

What the hell is really going on in Chicago? Juliet is trying to tell us something without really spilling the beans.

Ares lifts his head slightly, interested. But Juliet doesn’t push. She just shrugs one shoulder and looks forward again. “If you ever decide this place isn’t worth dying for, you know where to find us. I’m saying you should think about becoming our neighbors.”

Roman doesn’t say anything more, but he relaxes a little. Whatever is going on in Chicago, he’s worked hard to keep it a secret.

Juliet looks at me again as they turn in the direction of their hotel. “Sleep on it,” she says with a concerned smile.

They turn down the side street, and disappear into the night.

Ares and I keep walking. Our hands find each other’s naturally, fingers entwining without effort. But neither of us speaks as the weight of Juliet’s proposal settles in.

We walk the next four blocks in silence, the city pressing in around us. I’m thinking of shadows that erase their own faces. Of the glint of a stake in the chest of the man I love. Of waking up every day wondering if someone I care about might be turned into a weapon.

I glance at Ares.

He’s staring straight ahead, his jaw tense, brows drawn low.

We don’t say a word. But somehow, I know we’re thinking the same thing.

What if this city isn’t worth it anymore?

The moment we step into the penthouse, I feel it settle over us—the silence, the safety, the distance from the rest of the world.

But Ares is quiet. Too quiet.

He drops his keys into the bowl by the door and heads for the windows like he needs the city’s lights to anchor him. I watch his reflection in the glass, his broad shoulders tense, hands tucked in his pockets like he's holding something back.

I come up behind him, wrapping my arms around his waist, resting my cheek between his shoulder blades.

“What are you thinking?” I ask softly.

He exhales. It’s not a sigh, not quite. More like a release of weight he hasn’t figured out how to name.

“You’re unique,” he says after a long pause. His voice is low. “No one like you has ever existed before, Lana.”

I pull back slightly as he turns in my arms, coming face to face with me. His hands slide down to my waist, anchoring me. His jaw is tight, his brows drawn together.

“And that’s… a bad thing?”

“It’s dangerous,” he says. “To you.”

My chest tightens.

“You’re the only Made vampire. The only one with abilities like yours. There will always be people out there who would love to get their hands on you, to study you. Because if they could make more like you…”

His voice breaks slightly on that last word. It’s not weakness—it’s reverence. Fear wrapped in love.

“A secret that big doesn’t stay secret forever,” he continues.

“I’m terrified for Florence. If someone were to take her serum?

If they forced her to make more like you?

And if it gets out, this city? These people?

It won’t be long before someone comes looking to use you.

I’m not sure I can keep you safe here any longer.

And that’s all I want to do in life, Lana. ”

My heart pounds.

I look up at him, my fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. “That’s exactly how I feel. About you. This woman, she used you once; she’s said she’d do it again. And everything else that’s happened…” I shake my head, a lump forming in my throat.

We fall into silence, the air between us humming with truth. The kind of truth that’s sharp-edged and undeniable.

“But leaving New York…” I whisper. “Everything I’ve ever known is here.”

“And everything I own,” he adds. “Businesses. Properties. And the ties we have here…”

My mind is spinning with the weight of it.

And yet… my instincts scream something different. That this—this possibility, this escape—isn’t wrong. It’s not running.

It’s choosing peace.

I step back slightly, staring up at him, breath catching in my throat.

“Are we really considering this?”

His arms wrap around me again, pulling me close. His lips brush my forehead.

“So long as you’re there,” he says, “I don’t care where we live.”

I breathe in his scent, grounding myself. “We should sleep on it,” I murmur. “Even though, you know, I don’t actually sleep anymore.”

His mouth tips in a tired smile. “Then come to bed with me anyway.”

We walk hand in hand down the hallway, feet quiet against the hardwood, the glow of the city behind us slowly dimming as we step into the bedroom.

We don’t say anything as we change clothes. When I climb into bed, Ares is already lying on his side, arm outstretched, just waiting for me to climb in.

I curl into him, my face against his chest, my fingers resting over his heart—beating steady and strong.

The heart I almost lost.

He kisses the top of my head.

I close my eyes.

I don’t sleep.

But for the first time in weeks, I rest.