Chapter Ten

Lines Rewritten

Zane’s penthouse was a cathedral of glass and silence.

The city glittered below like a sea of diamonds — beautiful, unreachable, indifferent. Aurora stood by the window, her reflection layered against the skyline, a ghost trapped between ambition and desire.

He watched her quietly from across the room, sleeves rolled, drink in hand. No boardroom arrogance now. Just a man who looked too composed to be entirely human.

“You came,” he said softly.

“You summoned,” she replied.

He smiled, slow and deliberate. “You could’ve said no.”

“No one says no to you, do they?”

His eyes darkened. “Not for long.”

She turned toward him, heart pounding despite herself. “You think you’re invincible. That everyone bends to your will.”

“I don’t think,” he said. “I know.”

Aurora took a step closer, her heels whispering against the marble floor. “Then consider this your first challenge.”

He tilted his head, curiosity flickering. “You really believe you can play with fire and not get burned?”

“I don’t play,” she said. “I calculate.”

He crossed the space between them in a single breath. “Then calculate this.”

His hand hovered near her face, close enough that she could feel the heat radiating off his skin. “Every move you make,” he murmured, “every breath you take near me, tips the balance. One day, you’ll lose your footing.”

“Maybe,” she whispered. “But maybe I’ll drag you down with me.”

Something in his expression cracked — a flash of admiration, or something deeper, unguarded. “God, you fascinate me.”

“Then stop trying to own me.”

“I can’t.”

The confession was quiet, almost pained. It was the first honest thing she had ever heard him say.

He turned away abruptly, setting his glass down with a sharp clink. “You should go.”

Aurora hesitated. “That’s it?”

He faced her again, the mask sliding back into place. “Before I do something I’ll regret.”

“Or something I’ll enjoy?”

He laughed then, low and dark. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

“Maybe I do.”

For a long, breathless moment, neither moved. The air between them was heavy with unspoken things — want, defiance, fear. Then he closed the distance, stopping just short of touching her.

“You’re dangerous,” he said softly.

“So are you.”

“That’s the problem.”

When he finally stepped back, the absence of his presence felt like a wound. She left without looking back, though every step away from him felt like betrayal.

Outside, the night was cool, the city alive with distant sirens and laughter. She walked until the ache in her chest dulled to something she could name — anger, desire, both.

She told herself she was still in control.

That she could outthink him, outlast him, outmaneuver whatever twisted thing had begun between them.

But deep down, she knew the truth.

Zane Wilson wasn’t just the devil she’d made a pact with.

He was the mirror she’d been avoiding all her life — ruthless, wounded, and hungry for redemption neither of them deserved.

And the most terrifying part?

She was starting to want him to win.

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