Her back hit the wall so hard it knocked the air right out of her. For a second, everything disappeared. Sound, breath, even thought. But her instincts stayed wide awake.

Adrenaline shot through her, quick as lightning. Before her mind caught up, her hands shoved at whoever had her wrist. Her pulse thundered in her ears, wild and frantic. The hedge scratched her arm, and cold stone pressed through her coat. Whoever had dragged her into the tight space between the chapel wall and the hedges wasn't letting go.

Just for a heartbeat, her body forgot where she was. Forgot the funeral. Forgot the people. Forgot pretty much everything but danger. Raw and close enough to taste.

She drove her palm into his chest. Hard.

He staggered back a step.

Eloise sucked in air, looked up, then stopped cold.

"Adam?"

Her roommate stared at her, just as shocked, and let go right away. "You're welcome."

She was still panting. "You nearly killed me."

"You're breathing," he said, deadpan. "Which is more than I can say for your self-preservation."

His eyes flicked over her shoulder, toward the chapel. "They were circling you."

"They were talking."

"They were dissecting you," he said, quieter now. "That's not the same."

She rubbed her wrist, annoyed at how her fingers still trembled. "You scared me."

Adam's face softened, but only for a moment. Then he was all sharp edges again, scanning her face like he was hunting for bruises. "Good."

She frowned. "Good?"

"Yeah. You should be scared."

"That's dramatic."

"That's true."

She rolled her eyes, but it got to her anyway. Adam didn't scare easily. He joked, exaggerated, and made everything into a scene, but this wasn't the same. His worry was quieter. Still. Like something wound tight and waiting.

"You looked at him," Adam said.

Eloise stiffened. "I gave my condolences."

"You looked at him," he said again, softer.

Her throat went tight. "Adam."

"I'm not blaming you," he said. "I'm warning you."

She let out a shaky breath. "You're reading too much into a look."

Adam cocked his head. "Am I?"

She didn't answer. Because honestly, she didn't know. And that bugged her more than anything he'd said.

Something shifted in the air.

Not a sound. Not a movement. Just presence. It ran down her spine, slow and sure, impossible to ignore.

Adam felt it too. He straightened, eyes flicking past her.

Eloise turned.

Cassian Blackmoor was walking toward them.

He didn't hurry. Didn't stalk. Just moved with that calm confidence, every step easy, shoulders loose, face composed but not blank. Somehow, space just opened for him, like even the air knew where he belonged.

He stopped a few feet away. His eyes went right to her wrist.

"Are you alright?"

His voice was steady. Not loud, not dramatic. Just real.

Cassian held her gaze for a moment, like he was weighing her answer. Then he looked at Adam. Not a challenge. Not a threat. Just recognition.

Adam nodded, quickly. "She's fine."

Cassian glanced back at her, and neither of them looked away.

The silence between them didn't feel empty. It felt like a held breath, waiting for something that hadn't decided to happen yet.

Adam cleared his throat. "We should go."

Cassian didn't move. Didn't react at all, really. But Eloise felt the moment shift. A thin, delicate thing, not broken, just quietly folded away.

She nodded. "We were just leaving."

Cassian dipped his head. "Of course."

They slipped out the gate in silence. Cold air brushed her cheeks. She told herself that's why her face felt hot.

But warmth didn't usually settle deep in her chest like that.

Later that night, she went out. Not because she wanted anyone around but because she couldn't stand being alone with his voice echoing through her head. She didn't trust herself with how much she wanted to hear it again.

The place she picked was warm and dim, the kind of restaurant where nobody asked questions if you sat alone with a drink. Conversations blurred into a soft background hum.

For a while, it helped. She managed a few steady breaths.

Then something in the room shifted.

Not a word. Not a sound. Just a heaviness.

The air thickened, heavy the way it gets before rain. Full of something you can't see yet, but know is coming.

Her fingers tightened around her glass before she even looked up. Cassian stood a few steps away. He didn't say a word, didn't try to draw attention. He was just there like he'd always been, like she was only now noticing.

Her breath caught. She hated that he could still do that to her.

He looked at her, really looked, his gaze tracing her face, pausing just a split second on the faint red mark at her wrist. Something flashed in his eyes. Not anger, not softness. Just something sharper. It vanished before she could pin it down.

"You're out," he said. Not really a question.

She swallowed. "So are you."

He nodded, quiet. "Yes."

He didn't sit. Didn't ask. He just stood close, comfortable in the space, as if the place belonged to him and the room seemed to agree.

She forced her voice steady. "I didn't expect to see you again. At least not tonight."

His eyes drifted around the room. "This is one of mine.

He said it softly, no bragging, no explanation, just the truth.

Eloise blinked. "You own this place."

"Yes."

That's when she noticed the small things: a server slowed down near him, another straightened up without knowing why. No one made a scene, but they all knew. Power didn't need to shout.

Her pulse sped up.

"Do you always check on your businesses this late?" she asked.

"When I want out of my own head."

She tightened her grip on the glass. "Is it working tonight?"

He met her eyes, steady. "No."

The word sat between them, alive and heavy.

Silence grew, but not empty, not awkward, just thick with something she couldn't name.

"I don't think meeting you was an accident, Eloise," he finally said.

Her breath slowed, chest tightening, like someone was pulling a thread inside her.

"Be careful with me. Most people listen when they're warned."

He stepped back, turned, and walked away.

She didn't move, just stared at the space where he'd stood.

Fear curled low in her stomach. But that wasn't what made her heart race.

That was something else.

Anticipation.

The car didn't slow down.

Eloise saw it coming, dead-on, and she just knew and felt it like ice in her gut that it wasn't going to stop. Her breath caught. Her heel slipped on the edge of the curb. The whole world tilted, fast and hard, making her stomach lurch.

The grille swallowed her vision.

She stumbled backward and straight into something solid. The jolt punched the air right out of her, ribs locking up. Everything went quiet. The street, the noise, all of it just blinked out. For a split second, there was nothing but her pulse, loud and wild in her ears.

The car rolled forward an inch.

Then stopped.

It was so close she could see her own warped reflection in the hood, stretched and strange. The windows were blacked out. No face. No movement. Nothing behind the glass.

Just black.

Her hands started shaking before she even noticed she'd raised them. The tremor crept up, from fingertips to wrists, like her body was trying to shake something out and couldn't.

The engine just idled.

It waited.

It watched.

A thin thread of exhaust drifted past her legs. The smell caught in her throat, sharp and metallic, and she swallowed hard.

The car didn't move. Didn't honk. Didn't back up. It just sat there, like it could wait forever.

Finally, her lungs remembered how to work. She stepped sideways off the curb, heart pounding, staring at the windshield like maybe she could force it to turn clear.

The car stayed put.

One long second, perfectly still.

Then it rolled away.

Not fast. Not like it was spooked or guilty. It just... left.

Her heart wouldn't settle. It hammered on, uneven and loud, like it still didn't trust that she was out of danger.

Neither did she.

She stood there too long, staring after the car, listening to the sound of its tires fading away. Only when a stranger brushed past her did she realize she was still blocking the sidewalk.

She made herself move.

Her hands were still shaking when she pushed open the café door.

Warm air wrapped around her, but it didn't cut through the tension. Her skin stayed tight, on edge, waiting for something to finish that hadn't even started.

The bell over the door rang softly.

Mia looked up from the counter and frowned. "You look pale."

"Almost got hit crossing the street," Eloise said, fumbling with her apron strings. They slipped once because her fingers wouldn't listen. She tried again.

Mia straightened. "What?"

"I'm fine." She tried to sound normal. "Just startled."

The word felt too small for what her body was still going through.

Mia watched her for a second, eyes narrowing a little, like she was trying to puzzle something out. Then she said, almost offhand, "Some guy was here asking about you earlier."

Eloise's hands froze.

"What guy?"

"Taller than me. Calm. Polite." Mia tipped her head. "The kind of polite that makes you stand up straight without even realizing it."

A cold prickle ran down Eloise's back.

"He knew your full name," Mia added. "First and last."

The café suddenly felt way too quiet.

"Did he leave a name?"

"No." Mia shook her head. "Just smiled and said he'd come back."

Eloise finished tying the apron even though it was already tight. "Probably someone I served before."

"Maybe."

But Mia didn't sound sure. Neither was Eloise.

The hours dragged on, refusing to pass.

Every time the door opened, her shoulders jumped before she could stop them. Every time a car went by, her eyes flicked to the window. Her body wouldn't let her forget.

She spilled sugar. Burned her fingers on a mug. Forgot an order she'd already written down about three times. 

By closing time, her muscles were knotted, tight, and sore.

When Alex called and said, Come out with us, she agreed before she could talk herself out of it. Not because she wanted to be around people. She didn't want to be alone with the quiet.

The bar was warm inside, dim and gold-lit. The music was low, voices blending in the background. Mateo slid in next to Alex and kissed his cheek, then turned to her.

"You needed air," Alex said, studying her. "So we dragged you out. You're welcome."

"I didn't ask to be dragged."

"You didn't have to."

She wrapped cold fingers around the glass Mateo handed her. The chill felt real, steadying. She focused on that, not the memory of black windows and idling engines.

The conversation circled her. Alex talked. Mateo cut in. She replied when she had to.

For a moment, her shoulders relaxed. She let herself breathe. Then, something shifted. No sound, no sudden movement. Just a feeling. Like someone else had stepped into the room and the air knew it before she did.

Her fingers tightened around her glass. She looked up.

Cassian Blackmoor stood across the room, watching her, not coming closer, not saying a word. Just there, steady, like he'd been waiting for her to notice. You couldn't read his face, not really. But she felt his eyes on her, heavy enough that her pulse kicked so hard she felt it in her throat.

He didn't move right away. He just watched, calm, like he had all the time in the world to study the way she breathed.

Then he walked over. Stopped beside her table.

"Eloise."

Just her name, quiet and steady.

The sound of it slid through her, warm and slow. He glanced at Alex and Mateo. "Good evening, Gentlemen." They answered out of habit, but he was already looking at her again.

"May I steal you for a moment?"

Her heart hammered. She swallowed and nodded, barely trusting her voice. "Yes," she whispered.

He stepped back and nodded toward the balcony. She got up, slipped past him, felt him right there behind her, not touching, but impossible to ignore. She didn't need to look. He was a presence at her back, warm and electric.

He pulled the door open. Cool night air spilled in, slid over her skin, brushed her collarbone and wrists. The noise from inside faded away, shrinking down to shadows, hush, and the sound of her own breath.

And him, still right there.

Her breath hitched. He caught it.

He took her in, slow, eyes landing on her mouth.

"Do you always look at people this way?" His voice was soft, almost rough. "Because I don't think you realize what you do to me. I've never felt like this. I keep telling myself to keep away, but I just can't. You make that impossible. I wasn't supposed to feel like this. Not for you. Not for anyone. I was fine before you."

He meant it. He couldn't walk away now.

She drew in a shaky breath. He moved closer, careful, leaving enough space for her to step back. But she didn't.

He reached up, traced her jaw with gentle fingers. His hand drifted to her neck, then down her arm, slow and sure, like he was trying to memorize her.

She let her eyes flutter closed.

Their breaths tangled. Her hands found his jacket and gripped it tight.

"Eloise." He barely got her name out. "Can I kiss you?"

She swallowed, nodded. "Yes," she whispered.

He leaned in slowly, closing the gap. His lips brushed hers softly, tentatively. She clung to his jacket as the kiss deepened, warmth blooming in her chest, spreading everywhere, every second stretching out.

Then, 

A sharp crack split the air.

Something overhead snapped.

Cassian's hand shot out, grabbed her arm.

The glass exploded. Metal shrieked. The chandelier crashed down, smashing right where she'd been standing a heartbeat ago.

Glass kept tinkling long after the chandelier hit the floor.

The noise lingered in the air, thin and metallic, like reality hadn't caught up yet.

Eloise's ears rang as if the balcony itself had taken the blow. She blinked hard, once, twice, trying to steady the world as it tilted out of place. For a second there was nothing. No voices, footsteps, sound or anything. just the heavy impact below, metal striking first, glass shattering a breath later.

Eloise didn't move.

Not because she was brave.

Because Cassian's hand was still wrapped around her arm, firm enough to hold her there, steady enough to remind her she was still standing.

She looked down.

The heel of her shoe was inches from a shard of glass that gleamed like a blade.

Cassian's fingers tightened slightly, guiding her back without dragging her, without rushing, like he was moving something fragile through a room full of traps.

"Eloise," he said, slowly, carefully.

The sound of her name in his mouth cut through the chaos more sharply than the crash had.

She swallowed, throat tight. "I'm... I'm fine."

His gaze didn't meet her eyes. It skimmed over her head, her collarbone, the curve of her shoulders - the exact places the chandelier would have struck if he hadn't dragged her back. He looked like a man bracing himself to see blood.

"Are you hurt?" he asked.

"I don't think so." Her voice came out smaller than she intended.

He lifted her hand gently, turning it palm-up. His thumb brushed across her knuckles with quick precision, not tenderness, like he needed proof she hadn't been hurt.

Eloise breathed in, and his scent reached her again. clean, expensive, faintly sharp, like cold air over stone.

His fingers slid to her pulse.

The touch wasn't romantic. It was careful. He held it there, eyes fixed on her face now, tracking every breath, every flicker of reaction, watching her like her body might betray something she hadn't said aloud.

"Cassian," she whispered, because there was something unnerving about how calm he was.

His gaze didn't waver. "Breathe," he said quietly. "Slowly."

She forced air into her lungs, then let it out. Her body obeyed him before her pride had time to argue.

Behind them, voices started rising from inside the restaurant as people rushed toward the noise. A staff member pushed through the balcony doors, stopping short when she saw the wreckage below, her hands hovering uselessly in front of her as if she didn't know what to touch first.

"Call an ambulance!" someone shouted from inside.

Another voice snapped back, "She's not hurt!"

"Everyone stay back," a man called, trying to sound in control and failing.

Eloise's gaze dropped again.

The chandelier lay twisted where it had fallen, its metal frame bent out of shape, glass shattered across the pavement below in a spray of glittering fragments. The chain that had held it hung broken from above, the split link bright and raw where it had snapped.

Cassian looked up.

Not at the wreckage.

At the ceiling.

His eyes moved slowly over the empty space where the chandelier had hung, then to the dangling chain, then to the mounting point above it.

He wasn't looking like a shocked man.

He was studying it.

A staff member finally found her voice. "It-it must have been old," she stammered, eyes darting between Cassian and the wreckage below. "Fixtures like that... they wear out."

Cassian didn't answer right away.

"When was the last inspection?" he asked.

The staff member blinked. "Inspection?"

Cassian's voice stayed even. "Maintenance. Repairs. Who last worked on it?"

The woman hesitated. "I... I don't know. Management handles-"

Cassian turned his head slightly, not fully away from Eloise. He only angled enough to bring the woman into his focus.

Eloise saw the change the moment it happened. the woman's expression tightening, her shoulders drawing in, the quick swallow that followed.

"We had work done," she said quickly. "Recently. The chain was replaced."

Cassian's gaze sharpened, and she felt the shift through his touch. the subtle tightening of his fingers, the kind that meant his mind had already moved ahead of everyone else's.

"When?" he asked.

"Two weeks ago," the woman said. Then, hurried, "It was scheduled. Routine."

Cassian lifted his hand from her pulse, and for the first time since the crash she realized how violently her heart had been pounding. Her palms were damp.

"You should sit," he said, turning his attention back to her.

"I'm fine," she lied.

A man in a dark suit hurried toward them from inside, phone pressed to his ear, face tight with stress. His words came out fast and tangled. "Yes, yes, the chandelier - yes - someone nearly - no, no fatalities -"

He glanced at Cassian and faltered mid-sentence, like the sight of him had knocked the rhythm out of his voice.

Cassian didn't look at him.

He looked at the staff member again.

"Who replaced the chain?" he asked.

The woman shook her head. "A contractor. I don't know the name. Management handles that."

Cassian's eyes flicked toward the interior of the restaurant where a man in a dark vest stood near the service corridor speaking urgently with two employees, his expression tight with strain.

Cassian started to move.

Eloise's fingers tightened on the chair. "Where are you going?"

He stopped just long enough to look at her.

"Stay here," he said.

It wasn't a command disguised as kindness. It was plain instruction. 

Eloise swallowed. "Cassian-"

His gaze held hers, "Stay with your friend," he said, his eyes shifting briefly toward Adam, who had finally pushed through from inside, his expression sharp with concern.

Adam's stare went straight to Eloise. His hand lifted slightly, like he was checking from across the space that she was still intact.

Eloise nodded once, because she didn't have the strength to argue.

Cassian walked away. 

Cassian was speaking to the manager now. Not arguing, but asking questions. The man answered, shook his head, then gestured toward the office door.

Adam leaned closer, voice low. "This is what I meant."

Eloise didn't answer.

Because she couldn't decide what unsettled her more.

The falling chandelier...

Or the fact that Cassian Blackmoor hadn't looked surprised.

Adam stayed beside her, close enough that if she swayed he would catch her. His leg bounced once, then stilled.

"Do you want to leave?" he asked.

Eloise opened her mouth, then stopped.

Cassian stepped back into the room.

He didn't look at the wreckage first.

He looked at her.

Just for a second. Like he needed to see her upright before anything else.

 Then his gaze shifted briefly to Adam, acknowledging him with a slight nod.

Cassian walked toward them.

His eyes moved over her once more, slower now, as if he didn't trust the first check. He seemed satisfied, but the tension didn't leave his face.

He turned slightly toward the staff member hovering nearby.

"You said the chain was replaced."

"Yes."

"Bring me the invoice."

"I- I don't have it on me."

Cassian didn't raise his voice. He didn't need to. "Then bring me the person who signed off on it."

"The manager isn't here tonight."

Cassian held her gaze.

"Who the hell authorized the repair?" he asked quietly.

The woman's mouth opened.

No sound came out.

A man holding a broom froze mid-motion.

Even Adam went still.

Cassian waited.

And the silence that answered him didn't feel like confusion.

It felt like fear.