The rooftop party was the kind of exclusive event where champagne glittered in tall flutes and everyone looked like they belonged on the cover of a fashion magazine. A place where men came to flaunt their power, and women came to be desired or to break hearts.
Nyah stood near the edge of the crowd, her crimson lips a sharp slash of defiance against the soft ambient lighting. Her dress was a silky midnight green that clung to her curves like it had been painted on, the neckline plunging just enough to stir speculation. Her signature stiletto heels made her almost eye-level with most of the smugly powerful men milling around—men who glanced her way, then looked again.
She was trying to look calm, even aloof, but her eyes kept scanning the glittering crowd. Atlas had ghosted on her earlier that week—again. One minute they were supposed to meet, the next he vanished into the wind, likely tangled up with some lingerie model and a bottle of expensive whiskey.
Her best friend, Laila, had dragged her here, practically stuffing her into the dress with the words, "You need a night to feel dangerous again."
Nyah had rolled her eyes but gave in. She hadn't been out in weeks, and if the mysterious disappearance of Jace—an employee of Ravion Global—was tied to her sister's death, any proximity to Kael's world was worth it.
And this building? It was his. Of course it was. The penthouse with the infinity pool, cascading glass panels, and a skyline that looked like the heavens had spilled diamonds—Kael Ravion's latest indulgence.
But she didn't expect him to be here.
Kael stood near the bar, towering and immaculate in a navy suit that sharpened the blade of his cheekbones. No tie. A few shirt buttons undone. The exposed skin of his collarbone drew more than one hungry stare. He stood like he owned not just the building, but the sky itself.
Nyah caught her breath, then immediately cursed herself for doing so.
Kael hadn't seen her yet. Good.
"Nyah?" a familiar voice cut through the noise.
She turned—and her stomach fluttered. Atlas.
That maddeningly beautiful face. Tousled hair that looked like he'd just rolled out of a lover's bed. His smile, white-hot and reckless, hit her like a sucker punch.
"Hey, trouble," he said, pulling her into a hug that lingered just a second too long. His cologne curled around her—smoky, intoxicating.
"You ghosted on me again," she said, though her lips twitched.
"Emergency," he said smoothly, eyes glinting. "This French model showed up at my place with a broken heel and a broken heart. I couldn't leave her crying on the steps."
Nyah rolled her eyes but laughed. That was Atlas—beautiful, dangerous, and infuriatingly charming.
"You look—damn," he added, stepping back to take her in.
"You clean up well, hacker girl," Atlas said, reaching out to tuck a loose strand behind her ear. His fingers grazed her cheek, slow and deliberate. "You still wear this red lipstick like a warning."
"It is a warning," she said, but her voice had softened. Their faces were close now, the music swelling like a soundtrack behind them.
Atlas leaned in slightly, his breath teasing her jawline. "Lucky me—I've always liked playing with fire."
Nyah didn't answer, but her pulse quickened. She let her fingers trail down his lapel, her touch feather-light. "Careful, Atlas. One of these days, I might let you burn."
He grinned, wolfish. "I've already started."
****
Kael was speaking with someone, but his attention had snapped away the moment she walked in. Something about her cut through his usual disdain like static before lightning. His jaw clenched. His fingers curled slightly around his glass. A silent, guttural tug.
Trouble.
He hated the word. And yet, it clung to her like perfume.
Kael didn't recognize her from their first chaotic encounter at the company. But his body did. That same visceral reaction was back—tightened muscles, thundering pulse, the faintest flicker of heat coiling low in his stomach. The woman with the fire in her voice, the sharp mind and sex-dripping confidence—she was back.
And she was laughing.
With him.
Kael had seen Atlas move around the room with swagger and ease, that only someone so damn charming could pull off. Women turned their heads as he passed, and his smile was a sin waiting to happen. He was the kind of man who knew exactly the effect he had and used it like a blade sheathed in velvet.
Kael's jaw tightened as Atlas leaned close to Nyah, whispering something that made her smirk. Then—worse—his hand casually slid along her lower back, possessive and familiar.
Kael's grip on his drink tightened. He barely noticed when his companion stopped talking.
"What's that guy's deal anyway?" he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.
****
Atlas glanced across the room and met Kael's gaze. A flicker of something—acknowledgment, warning, challenge—passed between them like a silent gunshot in a crowded room.
"Don't look now," Atlas murmured into Nyah's ear, his breath warm against the shell. "But the Ice King's giving me a look like he's picking out where to hide my body. Or maybe yours. Hard to say."
Nyah bit back a laugh. "He always looks like that. Like the air in his lungs is offended to be here."
"Mm. I don't know," Atlas said lazily. "Looks like he wants to claim you or kill me. Probably both."
She rolled her eyes. "Relax. I've only talked to him once—barely. Cold, dismissive, too self-important to say a full sentence."
Atlas gave her a sideways glance. "Sure. And yet… you noticed all that."
She sighed. "You're impossible."
"And yet… you're still standing here," he murmured, flashing that grin that had undone smarter women than her.
Nyah smiled despite herself. She hated that grin. Mostly because it still worked. She'd crushed on Atlas for years—his charm, his chaos, the way he always showed up just when she thought she didn't need him. But it had always been flirting. Nothing more. He was protective, always close, always teasing—but never crossing that line.
Still, a small, stubborn part of her hoped. Maybe tonight would be different. Maybe this time, when his fingers brushed the small of her back like they belonged there, he'd finally mean it.
"Come on," she said, masking the flicker of hope. "Introduce me to your orbit of glittering nobodies."
Atlas chuckled. "Is that a hint of jealousy in your voice? Green is not your color, baby."
He slid his hand lower along her spine—casual, but deliberate. Her breath hitched.
****
Across the room, Kael felt Atlas's deliberate hand on Nyah's body like a slap.
His spine locked. The corner of his mouth twitched—just barely. His knuckles whitened around his glass.
He didn't like Atlas. That much was obvious now.
But what disturbed him more was the sudden, irrational heat crawling up his chest. Possessiveness. Jealousy. Over a woman he barely knew. A woman who had challenged him, ignored his authority, and now—stood laughing, glowing, wrapped in someone else's orbit.
He had no claim on her. No right to feel anything. And yet…
His pulse was a war drum in his ears.
She was a stranger. A brilliant, inconvenient, maddening stranger with eyes like secrets and a mouth that looked like sin when she smiled.
Kael downed the last of his drink and muttered under his breath, more to himself than anyone else.
"Get a grip."
But his eyes stayed locked on her, burning a silent line across the room.
****
Later, as the music dimmed and laughter turned into a low murmur, Nyah's gaze drifted toward the rooftop pool, flanked by flickering fire bowls. The reflections danced like restless spirits across the water's surface. She needed space. Air. Something that wasn't silk dresses, champagne, and hollow chatter.
Her heels clicked softly on the marble as she slipped away from the crowd. The night wind brushed her skin like a warning.
Somewhere below, Jace's body had been found in the same parking lot she'd examined last week. His encrypted files were still a wall she hadn't broken through. Yet.
Then her phone vibrated.
She opened her eyes slowly and clicked on the message.
You're digging too deep. Stop now. Or you'll end up like them.
Attached were photos—gruesome, blurred snapshots of corpses. One of them was her sister.
The world tilted. Nyah's breath caught in her throat. Her fingers shook.
They know I'm here.
She sent a quick text to Atlas. Meet me outside. Urgent.
But after a minute passed and he didn't come, her mind flicked to the women pressed around him—limbs draped, laughter spilling, perfume clouding the air. She clenched her jaw.
"Screw it. I'm just going to drag him out myself," she muttered.
She turned, intending to storm back inside—but the slick tile near the pool betrayed her. Her heel caught. A twist. A gasp. And then—
Splash.
She plunged into the water, silk and heels swirling around her. The cold hit like a slap, silk dragging her down, the weight of her dress like hands on her ankles. She kicked, frantic, toward the surface.
She broke the surface with a gasp and collided against a solid chest, breathless and soaking.Strong arms instinctively seized and pulled her against a hard chest.
Kael.
The pool around them shimmered with firelight and shadows.
Nyah sputtered as she surfaced, dark waves clinging to her cheekbones, mascara streaking faintly beneath wide, furious eyes. Kael had one strong arm wrapped around her waist, the other anchoring them against the tiled edge.
"I could swim, you know," she snapped, brushing hair from her eyes.
Kael's voice was low, close. "Didn't look like it. I don't usually let people drown on my property."
Nyah narrowed her eyes. "You also don't usually touch people either, if I remember correctly."
Kael's mouth twitched, either at the jab or the fact that his skin was still tingling from contact. Her body, soft and curving against his, had lit up every nerve ending. He could still feel the brush of her thigh through the dark water. Still feel her breath, uneven and warm, ghosting against his collarbone.
"And yet here we are," he murmured.
She stared at him, cheeks flushed from more than just the cold. "Last time I checked, I didn't ask you to be here!"
Kael's eyes darkened. "You screamed."
"I did not."
"You did." His voice dipped lower. "And I heard you."
The air between them stretched, taut. His grip on her waist loosened, but he didn't let her go. Nyah tried to wriggle out of his hold, but her heel caught the slope beneath and she slipped again. Instinctively, he pulled her back against his chest—and now they were flush, tangled, and far too close for sanity.
Nyah's voice turned breathless. "Are you always this…intrusive?"
Kael tilted his head, eyes roaming her face. "Only when I think it is necessary."
She shivered—not from the cold, but from the heat pooling low in her stomach.
"Let me go," she snapped.
"I will," he said, but he didn't move.
Nyah glared at the sliver of moonlight cutting across his cheekbone. She saw the tension there, in the set of his jaw, the tick in his temple, the way he was clearly fighting himself. And yet… there was something else. Familiarity. Hunger.
And then he did let go. Too fast.
She pushed off the wall and made for the pool's steps in silence. The air was cooler now, and it hit her wet skin like a slap. Kael climbed out just behind her, water dripping from his expensive shirt, his hair slicked back from his temples, all sharp angles and seething restraint.
Nyah turned around, arms crossed over her chest, biting back a tremble. "For someone who is so obnoxiously self absorbed, it's rather impressive how you could instinctively reach out to help."
Kael's eyes flicked to her lips, then back up. "Don't flatter yourself."
Just then, the door slammed open behind them and Atlas appeared, his button-down half-unbuttoned, sleeves rolled, smelling of expensive cologne and lipstick. His eyes darted between them, taking in the wet clothes, the tight expressions, and the crackling tension that hadn't had time to cool.
"What the hell happened?" he asked sharply, striding forward.
Nyah walked past him, hugging herself, muttering, "I slipped."
Atlas turned his gaze to Kael, who now stood with water gleaming off his skin like armor. "You jumped in after her?" he asked, voice sharp with something possessive.
Kael didn't blink. "Obviously."
"She's a trained swimmer," Atlas said, crossing his arms. "She could've handled herself."
"Didn't seem that way to me."
They stood toe to toe, oil and fire. Atlas was the type to smile through conflict, but tonight, his jaw was tight and his easy charm faded into something primal.
"Appreciate the concern," he said coolly, "but please keep your distance from her. Don't make her any more uncomfortable."
Kael's brows rose. "Are you by any chance telling me to stay away from my employee?"
Atlas smirked. "That's right. First of all, she's technically not your employee. That said, she doesn't have to talk to you outside work hours."
Kael stepped forward, towering by an inch. "And who the hell do you think you are?"
Atlas's eyes turned cold. "The only one who knows Nyah better.
Kael stepped in, just enough to cast a shadow over him. "Then where the hell were you when she screamed?"
Atlas's jaw locked. "I don't remember inviting you to this party."
Kael didn't look away. "I own the damn building."
Tension coiled tighter, air. Nyah's voice cut through it—distant, soft, but firm.
"Atlas," she called from the door. "I'm cold."
Atlas gave Kael one last meaningful look. Kael watched him walk away, jaw tight.
"This asshole clearly doesn't know who he is dealing with," he muttered.
****
Later That Night…
Kael tossed in his bed, sheets a knot around his legs, skin damp with sweat. The city lights blinked through the glass, but his eyes burned with a different kind of fever.
The woman haunted him.
She wasn't just in his dreams—she was the dream. Vivid. Sharp. Disarming.
This time, she wasn't blurred. She stood barefoot on a rooftop drenched in moonlight, red lipstick curving into something wicked. Her fingers trailed up his bare chest, leaving silvery flames in their wake. Her mouth whispered things against his skin—sweet, sharp, unrelenting.
Nyah.
He woke up gasping, heart hammering, body coiled with tension.
His eyes gleamed faintly in the dark, glowing like a man on the edge of a choice he didn't want to make.
****
A woman's scream from the dim alley but was muffled before it could reach the stars.
A hooded woman hummed to herself as she drew symbols into the concrete with a bloody fingertip, her silver eyes gleaming.
The corpse she left behind glowed faintly before shriveling to ash, joining the others in the growing list of strange, unsolved deaths across the city.