I didn't sleep.
I didn't cry either.
I just lay on my back in bed with the covers pulled up to my chest, staring at the ceiling like it held answers. Like if I stayed still long enough, my brain would finally settle.
It didn't.
All I could hear was his voice.
"You looked at me like I was still human."
What did that even mean?
I hadn't known what I was looking at that night—just that it had claws, fangs, and eyes I used to trust.
I thought seeing him again would break me.
I didn't expect it to shake something awake.
The next morning, I dressed in armour.
Black jeans. Boots with a thick sole. A button-up that didn't cling to my skin.
Hair tied back. Eyes dry. Mouth set.
When I walked into the office, Isla spotted me instantly.
She stood slowly, coffee in one hand, phone in the other. "Hey."
"Hi," I said.
"You okay?"
"I'm here."
"That's not what I asked."
I dropped my bag on my desk and powered on my laptop. "It's the only answer I've got."
She didn't ask further questions. She just hovered nearby, pretending to sip her drink, but watching like a hawk.
I appreciated it. More than I said.
Before I could fake being productive, a ping hit my inbox.
One new message.
FROM: Lucas Vale
SUBJECT: Can we talk?
TIME: 8:17 AM
PRIORITY: High
I stared at the screen.
Didn't move.
Didn't blink.
I didn't open it.
Just hit delete.
One second later, another ping.
FROM: Lucas Vale
SUBJECT: Please.
TIME: 8:18 AM
This time, I clicked.
Inside: only one sentence.
I won't come near you unless you say it's okay. But I need you to know I'm not going anywhere.
I read it once.
Twice.
Then I closed my laptop.
I stood, and walked across the floor, into the break room.
Poured a coffee I didn't want.
And whispered to me:
"Stay away from me."
Even if part of me didn't mean it.
He stayed away.
For a full day, he didn't call.
He didn't message.
He didn't even cross the floor.
I kept expecting him to. Every time I heard footsteps, I braced. Every time my email pinged, my pulse jumped. But nothing came.
Lucas Vale—the man who'd been watching, calculating, sending me private files—was suddenly… silent.
It wasn't comforting.
It was confusing.
Isla noticed.
"You keep checking the hallway," she said over lunch. "You expecting someone?"
"No," I said.
She gave me a look.
"Okay," I admitted. "Maybe."
"Tall. Broody. Kind of 'I own the night' energy?"
I tried to smile. Failed. "Something like that."
She took a bite of her sandwich and shrugged. "You could always message him."
"I told him to stay away."
She chewed thoughtfully. "Right. But is that what you wanted, or just what you thought you should want?"
I didn't answer.
Because I wasn't sure.
I hated how still it felt without him.
How the building felt hollow even though everyone was still there.
Lucas hadn't left.
But he'd pulled back.
And somehow, that was worse.
Because now the question wasn't What does he want from me?
It was: Why isn't he trying anymore?
And the part of me I didn't trust—the one I'd buried a long time ago—whispered something that made my skin crawl.
You miss him.
I shook it off.
Stood. Threw away the rest of my lunch.
And got back to work.
But every time someone walked past the glass doors of the office, I looked up.
And every time it wasn't him, I felt something twist in my chest.
He didn't go to the fifteenth floor that day.
He worked from the executive suite upstairs, close enough to feel her presence through the floorboards, but far enough not to test her words.
She said to stay away.
So he did.
And it felt like hell.
Lucas stood by the glass window of his office, staring out at the city skyline with a phone in his hand he hadn't touched all day. No texts. No calls. No excuses.
She'd asked for space.
She deserved space.
But God, he hated the quiet.
He hated how much it made him think about the last time he saw her at peace. Ten years ago. Before the moonlight broke him open.
Before she looked at him like she didn't know who he was.
He could still see the expression on her face when she read the file. Could imagine the way her throat tightened, the way her hands probably trembled before she slammed the laptop shut.
He'd wanted to prepare.
He thought knowing everything about her would give him a way to protect her.
He hadn't realized how much that would feel like a violation.
She'd always been a step ahead of his instincts.
And now, she was ahead of his reach too.
Still, he didn't move.
Didn't send another message.
Didn't chase.
He just whispered, to no one but the glass and the city below:
"Come to me when you're ready."
Then he turned back to the table and picked up the envelope he hadn't mailed yet.
Inside it: a key card. Access to his private floor. The one no one else ever stepped into.
A line she could cross… only if she wanted to.
He set it down again.
And waited.
I didn't mean to linger.
After hours, the building empties fast. Lights dim. Keycards lock half the hallways. It's supposed to make you feel safe.
It didn't.
I left my scarf in the break room. That's all.
Just a dumb piece of fabric.
But that's how it started.
On my way back, I passed the elevator—already shut down for most floors. But one light blinked: P.
Private access.
We weren't allowed up there. No one was. Rumour said it was where "the real meetings" happened. The sealed-off floor where only the board or bloodline ever walked.
And Lucas.
I stopped.
Just for a second.
Then I heard it.
A voice.
Low. Sharp. Controlled.
Lucas.
And he wasn't alone.
I crept closer—not enough to be seen, but close enough to hear. The elevator doors hadn't closed all the way. Something had wedged them. A folder, maybe. Left behind. Or placed.
Lucas's voice was clearer now.
"No. She doesn't know yet. And I need it to stay that way."
Another voice responded, male, older, colder: "You're letting emotion cloud your judgment."
Lucas again. Quieter. Fiercer.
"She's the reason I didn't lose myself. You think I'll throw her back into this without a choice?"
A pause.
Then the older voice, darker this time:
"She is the choice."
The line buzzed.
Click.
Silence.
I stood there frozen.
Then the elevator doors hissed
shut in front of me, cutting me off like they knew I didn't belong there.
My heart pounded.
I didn't know what that conversation meant.
Not yet.
But I knew one thing:
I was already part of something bigger than just the past.
And Lucas Vale?
He wasn't done keeping secrets.