Mag-log inMarcus leaned back in his chair, chest heaving, sweat dampening his shirt. His hands shook once before he clenched them into fists.“You’re fast,” he breathed, staring at the screen. “Faster than I expected.”A slow, humorless smile crept across his face.“But not fast enough.”He wiped his hands on his jeans and leaned forward again, rebuilding firewalls even as he spoke under his breath.“You shouldn’t have started this, Elena.”Because now he knew.She was awake.She was suspicious.And she was hunting.Marcus cracked his neck, eyes hardening as the last of the panic bled away and something colder took its place.If Elena wanted answers, he’d make sure she found exactly what he wanted her to see.And next time?He wouldn’t be reacting.He’d be ready.Meanwhile, deep inside the Thorne estate, Elena’s calm finally cracked.“Son of a...”Her fingers flew across the keyboard, screens reflecting sharp light across her face as lines of code collapsed in on themselves. One firewall fell.
Jace's phone stayed silent.He finally set it face down on the bed and exhaled slowly, forcing himself to stand.He told himself he’d give it time. That patience was better than pressure. That if Marcus wanted to talk, he would.Still, as he moved through his small kitchen, making coffee he barely tasted, one quiet realization settled deep in his chest, for the first time since they started talking, Jace felt like he was the one chasing.And he had no idea whether Marcus even noticed.The coffee went cold on the counter.Jace didn’t notice.He stood there, mug in hand, staring out the window at a city that was already moving on with its day, and his thoughts spiraled the way they always did when disappointment dug its claws in.This isn’t the first time, his mind whispered unkindly.It never was.He thought of the pattern he hated admitting existed. The way things always started bright. Promising. How men leaned into him when it was convenient. When he was fun. Easy. Safe. And how, th
Marcus’s fist slammed into the counter.“I paid for it,” he growled. “I paid in blood. In bone. In identity.”Evan’s voice softened. “And now you’re back… expecting what? Forgiveness? Recognition?”Marcus straightened slowly, the alcohol burning through his veins like fuel instead of sedation.“I expect her to remember who she was with me,” he said coldly. “Who she became. Before Roman. Before safety. Before comfort.”Evan stared at him. “You’re not trying to get her back.”Marcus lifted his gaze, something unhinged flickering there.“I’m trying to remind her,” he said. “That she was never meant to belong to a man like Roman.”Evan swallowed. “This ends badly.”Marcus picked up the bottle again, pouring another drink.“It already did,” he said. “Years ago.”He took a slow sip, eyes distant, fixed on a memory that refused to stay buried.“And I didn’t survive all of that,” he added quietly, “to watch her choose someone else.”The bottle lowered.His hand steadied.Resolve replaced the
Roman’s jaw tightened. “Coincidence?”“That’s what I’m telling myself.”“And your instincts?”She looked down at her coffee. “My instincts don’t like coincidences.”Silence stretched between them, not strained, just heavy with unspoken understanding.Roman reached across the table, covering her hand with his. Solid. Present. Real. “We’ll look into him,” he said. “Quietly.”Elena nodded. “For Jace,”Roman’s thumb brushed her knuckles once. “ For Jace.”She breathed out slowly, tension easing just a fraction.Roman didn’t let go of her hand.He stared at the surface of the table for a moment, jaw set, the way it did when he was assembling pieces he didn’t like the shape of.“I felt it too,” he said finally.Elena looked up.“Last night,” Roman continued, voice low, careful, “something was off about him. The way he watched you before we even sat down. Not curiosity. Not admiration. Recognition.”Her fingers curled slightly under his.“That’s why Hale called this morning,” he added.Elena
Elena’s answer was a kiss, slower this time, her hands sliding up to his shoulders as a quiet smile curved against his mouth.The sharp edge she carried everywhere softened in his presence, melting into something gentler, something she rarely allowed herself to feel.Roman guided her toward the bed, his movements unhurried, every step heavy with unspoken promises. When they sank down together, Elena felt warmth rush to her cheeks, and she briefly hid her face against his chest.He chuckled softly. “You’re still adorable when you’re flustered.”She lifted her head, eyes warm and shining. “Don’t ruin the moment.”“I wouldn’t dare.”He took his time easing her out of her dress, fabric whispering to the floor.His lips followed, pressing slow kisses along her bare skin, from her chest down to her stomach, lingering just enough to make her breath hitch.Elena’s fingers curled around herself, a soft, instinctive touch as sensation built.Roman’s hands followed, deliberate and reverent, and
The drive back was quiet in the way that only felt quiet to one person.Jace filled the space easily, talking about the food, about how nice Elena had looked, about how Roman was surprisingly tolerable tonight, about how everything had felt… right.He laughed at his own jokes, relaxed now, buoyed by wine and hope and the gentle certainty that the night had gone well.Marcus responded at the appropriate moments. A hum. A nod. A soft laugh when it was expected.But his mind wasn’t in the car.It was still at the restaurant. Still watching Roman’s hand at Elena’s waist. Still seeing the way she’d leaned into him, unguarded and warm.Jace didn’t notice.He never did.The car pulled up in front of Jace’s apartment building, headlights washing briefly over the familiar concrete.Marcus slowed, parked, and turned off the engine. The sudden silence felt heavier than the drive itself.“Well,” Jace said, unbuckling, heart beating just a little faster now. “Thanks for the ride.”“Anytime,” Marcu







