The elevator ride up to the penthouse felt like climbing back into a memory Kai wasn't ready to touch. The city lights flickered below like dying stars, but it was the cold ache in his chest that burned the brightest.
He didn't know why he came back.
Maybe it was the stupid hope.
Maybe it was love, the kind that doesn't know how to let go, even when it should.
The doors slid open. The scent hit him instantly Adrian. Still rich, still dark, still his. Kai hesitated at the threshold like stepping into the space might ignite everything again.
And maybe it did.
Adrian was already waiting. No shirt. Just the jagged lines of old scars, new tension, and eyes like war.
"Thought you left," he said, voice low.
"I did," Kai said, stepping inside. "Didn't mean I stopped loving you."
Adrian's breath caught. He turned his face away, jaw clenched. "That's not a good thing right now."
"No," Kai agreed. "It's not."
Silence thickened between them, sharp as glass.
"I saw the messages," Kai said quietly. "Lucien isn't dead. You lied to me."
Adrian didn't flinch. "I kept it from you because he's a fucking storm. And you're the one thing I'd burn the world to protect. I wanted to keep your peace intact."
Kai stepped closer, fury and affection tangling in every move. "You don't get to decide what peace I have, Adrian. That's not protection that's control."
Adrian looked at him then, eyes raw, voice cracking open. "I've only ever tried to keep you safe, Kai. Even when it cost me everything else. But I didn't want to lose you."
"You already did," Kai whispered.
But his hands trembled. And his body betrayed him. He was still reaching for Adrian still his.
Adrian crossed the space like gravity pulled him. One hand on Kai's cheek. "Then let me find you again. Even if it's through every shattered promise."
Kai leaned into the touch, just barely. His voice was a ghost: "Then stop hiding in the dark."
"I'm not," Adrian murmured. "I'm here. All of me. For you."
Their foreheads touched. And in that hush of a moment, it wasn't forgiveness. Not yet. But it was something close.
The kind of closeness that trembled on the edge of something deeper.
Something dangerous.
Something worth saving.