The rooftop went black.
Selene didn't move.
Neither did Darius.
For a brief moment, there was nothing but silence and the sound of the wind howling around the building, brushing Selene's hair against her cheek. Then a faint buzz. Emergency lighting flickered to life overhead, bathing them in a dim, red glow that turned Darius's face into something carved from heat and shadows.
She took a step back.
"You used to work for Lazarus?" Her voice was low, coiled tight.
"I don't lie to you," he said, sounding roughly, his jaw was tense. "I didn't tell you everything. That's not the same."
"Don't play semantics with me, Darius." Her eyes burned. "You said he wanted you dead. You didn't say you used to be his damn soldier."
Darius didn't move closer. Instead, he dragged a hand through his hair, pacing once, like the words cost him.
"I was his blade," he admitted. "For three years. Before I realized what kind of monster I was sharpening myself for."
"And you just walked away?"
"No one walks from Lazarus. You run. You disappear. And you pray he doesn't find you."
Selene's breath caught. The red light from the rooftop exit gleamed off his skin, casting him in hues that didn't make him any less dangerous. Her blood thudded behind her ears.
"You should've told me," she whispered. "You stood in my club. In my house. In my bed—"
"I didn't plan that," he snapped. "I didn't plan you. I came to Velvet Vice for a job. Then I saw you. And everything changed."
She laughed, sharp and bitter. "How convenient."
Thunder cracked in the distance. A summer storm rolled over the skyline, and a fat droplet of rain hit her shoulder. Darius stepped forward instinctively, but she held up a hand.
"Don't," she said.
"Selene—"
"I trusted you. And now I find out you used to work for the man who tortured my father and left his body in a shallow grave."
He froze.
She hadn't meant to say it. Not out loud. Not like this. But the words were there now, hanging between them like a noose.
His voice dropped to a gravel whisper. "What?"
She looked away. "Lazarus. He didn't just steal my business contacts or bleed my accounts. He killed my father. Slowly. Methodically. And I've been hunting him ever since."
Darius's mouth parted, but no sound came out.
Rain began to fall, steady now, turning her thin silk shirt translucent. She didn't care.
"I came back from Paris," she said softly, "to burn everything he built."
"I didn't know."
"I don't care."
He reached for her hand, but she pulled out of reach. That was when she heard it—faint metal on concrete.
She wasn't the only one up here anymore.
She turned sharply, and so did Darius.
"Someone's here," she whispered.
The rooftop exit door was slightly open, moving slightly with the wind. Selene moved quickly, her heels echoing as she knelt by the railing. Darius went low beside her.
Another sound—closer this time.
"Armed?" he asked.
"Always," she muttered, drawing a compact pistol from under her jacket
The lightning flashed, revealing a figure on the far side of the roof.
Not security.
Definitely not friendly.
The figure moved fast, aiming for something metallic and long. A rifle.
"Down!" Darius shouted, dragging her behind the HVAC unit just as the first shot cracked.
Selene's heart jumped into her throat.
The shot missed.
By inches.
Another flash of lightning gave her a glimpse of the shooter, he was tall, masked, moving like he knew what he was doing.
Darius cursed, scanning the angle. "We are boxed in."
Selene's breathing was very high in her ears. "You think this is Lazarus?"
"Or someone he hired."
"Of course," she hissed. "Of course this happens the moment I start catching feelings."
Darius looked over. "You caught feelings?"
"Don't make me shoot you."
Another bullet chipped the concrete beside them.
"Cover me," he ordered. "I'm going for the ladder."
She didn't argue. While Darius darted across the roof in a blur of soaked muscle and adrenaline, Selene laid down cover fire, counting each shot. The bastard was good—he didn't expose himself once.
Darius reached the ladder. "Go!" He shouted.
Selene raced, her wet heels slipping on the rooftop surface, her heart pounding like a war drum. She got to the ladder and hurried down quickly, too scared to look down.
They hit the lower terrace, just two stories down, and slipped into the stairwell off to the side.
They didn't speak until they were back inside her penthouse, drenched and breathless, the door slammed shut and bolted behind them.
Then the silence stretched again.
Selene took off her soaked jacket ,allowing it fall to the floor. Her skin was cold. But her blood was lava.
"You still want to tell me that all this was just a job?" She asked.
Darius stared at her, breathing hard, rain sliding down from his neck, dark hair plastered to his temples.
"No," he said.
He crossed the room in two steps and took her face in his hand.
"I want you. That's the only truth I know anymore."
His kiss was fast, punishing, like he needed to make her believe him.
Selene didn't resist.
She kissed him back harder with teeth and tongue, a war of lips and desperation. Her hands mishandled his shirt, ripping it open, his button scattered on the floor. Her palms slid over his chest, down to his stomach, absorbing the heat radiating from him.
He moaned slowly and spun her against the wall and dropped on his knees. His hands slid up her thighs and pulled her soaked pants with them, he kissed her thighs like he was worshipping her with each breath.
She gasped when his mouth found her wetness through the lace. "Darius—"
"Say it again."
"Say what?"
"That you want me."
"I want you." Her voice shook.
His tongue slid under the lace and she moaned loud enough to echo. Her hands braced against the wall. He didn't let up—licking, teasing, devouring like he'd been starving for years.
When he rose again, he didn't wait.
He effortlessly lifted her up, pressing her back against the cold glass window as she wrapped her legs around her. He kissed her softly again, and then he went inside her with a single, brutal thrust that made her moan out loud.
Her nails dug into his shoulders. His grip bruised her thighs. Each move was rough, urgent like they didn't know if they'd survive the night.
"Mine," he moaned against her neck. "Say it."
"You're mine too," she breathed, biting his shoulder.
They shattered together. Her body trembled in his arms as he held her through it, kissing her temple like it was a vow.
He finally pulled back and let her slide down gently to her feet.
There it was silence again.
But it was different now. Deeper. Fragile.
She touched his chest. "You think the shooter will try again?"
Darius nodded. "If Lazarus is behind it, this was just the beginning."
Selene turned to head to her room when her burner phone rang.
She froze.
Darius went still.
She picked it up slowly.
The voice on the other end was low. Distorted.
"You're not safe with him."
Her breath caught.
Then the line went dead.