I shouldn't have come.
I told myself that the second I stepped out of the car and looked up at the glowing sign of Mirage. The bass thumbed through the pavement, the line outside stretching with people desperate to lose themselves in the dark.
But I still walked in.
No security stopped me. One look at my face, my suit, and the manager was already nodding me pass the ropes and toward the VIP floor.
She's here, and I needed to see for myself.
I told myself I just wanted confirmation _ that she was really here, really throwing herself into this reckless escape. But the truth?
I don't know what I wanted.
I moved through the crowd, eyes scanning the dancefloor. Bodies blurred past me, laughter, flashes of skin, the bite of cheap perfume. Then I saw her.
God.
She was laughing.
Head thrown back, drink in hand, hair wild around her shoulders.
She looked alive. Or maybe trying too hard to seem like it.
The black dress she wore _ it clung to her like a secret, revealing just enough to make something in me tighten with a heat I didn't want to name.
She didn't see me.
She was dancing with Sharon, lost in the music, spinning like the world couldn't touch her.
But I knew the truth.
That smile was brittle. That laughter didn't reach her eyes.
She was trying to drown me out.
And yet...here I was, crashing into her night like a storm.
The bartender glanced my way. I ordered something dark and smooth and leaned against the back rail, eyes locked on the woman I'd once loved.
Still loved.
Still hated.
And as I watched her, I knew one thing for sure.
This wasn't over.
Not even close.
Sienna POV
We stumbled out of mirage just past 2 a.m, laughter still clinging to our lips like lip gloss. Sharon's arm looped around mine, her heels clicking awkwardly against the pavement.
"I told you you needed this," she said, poking my side.
I gave a tired laugh. "Yeah... maybe you were right."
The music still echoed faintly in my chest, the shots swimming in my bloodstream. For the first time in weeks, the ache wasn't sharp. Just....dull. Manageable.
We reached her car. She insisted on driving me home even though I told her I'd be fine.
"You're emotional reckless, not physically invincible," she muttered as I climbed in. "Big difference."
I leaned back against the seat, staring out the window, watching New York blur into a trail of lights and shadows.
Tonight had been a blur, too.
But in that haze, there were moments I'd felt okay.
Almost.
I closed my eyes.
I didn't think about Damian.
I didn't think about tomorrow.
I just let the silence hold me.
We pulled up to my apartment, I thanked her, hugged her longer than necessary.
"Text me when you wake," she said, worrying slipping into her smile.
I nodded, whispering, " I will."
The door closed behind me, and the walls of my apartment greeted me with their familiar, cold quiet.
I kicked off my shoe, dropped my purse, and didn't even bother changing.
Just curled onto the couch, face buried in a throw pillow, and let the weight of the night settle over me like blanket I didn't ask for.
I don't know that miles away _across neon light and empty glasses _ someone else was still awake.
Still thinking of me.
Damian POV
I leaned forward, palm pressing against my knees, breath heavy with something I didn't want to name.
That dress.
That damn dress.
I wanted to tear it off her body. Not gently. Not with patience. But like punishment _ like claiming.
I wanted to hear her scream my name again. Not in anger. In desperation.
I wanted her under me, against me, gasping like she used to do. Like only I could make her fall apart.
The memory slammed against me like a wave_ her fingers clutching my back, her voice whispering "Don't stop" in the dark.
She was fire, softness, and fury all at once.
And she is mine.
Or she was.
Now?
My jaw clenched as a thought hit me harder than I expected.
Had another man touched her?
Had someone else kissed those lips I once owned?
Had anyone else made her cry out in dark?
I gritted my teeth, pushing the thought away, but it lingered like smoke.
Six years.
Six years without her, and I still remembered every inch of her skin.
I still burned for her.
And God help me, I wanted her more than I hated her.
I didn't remember falling asleep.
One minute I was on the couch, the city humming outside my windows _ the next, and I was in somewhere else entirely.
The sun filtered through plain curtains. Her laughter filled the space like music.
We were in my penthouse, but it felt different. Warmth. Lived in. Like home.
She walked out of the bathroom wearing nothing but one of my shirts, hair damp from shower, skin glowing in morning light. Her bare legs moved lazily as she padded to the kitchen, humming something soft.
I watched her _ this goddess with tangled hair and sleepy eyes and I remember thinking:
I could die like this. Right here. Just watching her exist.
She caught me staring and smirked, walking over with coffee in one hand and her mouth curved in that teasing way.
"You're staring again," she murmured, settling into my lap without hesitation.
"I always stare," I said, hands gripping her thighs, holding her like I could keep her forever.
Her fingers trailed down my chest. "Why?"
I answered without thinking." Because you're mine."
She kissed me. Slow. Deep. Familiar.
My hands found her waist, pulling her closer, desperate to remind her _ how much I wanted her_ how much I needed her.
Clothes didn't matter.
Nothing did but her.
Her skin against mine, the arch of her back, the way she whispered my name like a prayer right before falling apart in my arms.
"Sienna....."
But the dream cracked.
Just a whisper of a shift. Barely noticeable.
Suddenly, she was pulling away.
Suddenly, she was crying.
Suddenly, she was gone.
I woke up with a jolt, heart pounding, breath ragged.
The room was dark again.
Empty.
And I was alone.
Still.