The water's hot. Scalding, really. That's the point. I like when it bites.
I sink lower, let it eat at my skin. Not because I'm trying to relax. I don't relax. It's because I think better when I'm uncomfortable. Pain keeps me present. And lately, my mind's been drifting too far in the wrong direction.
His name's still echoing. I don't know why it stuck. I just know it won't leave. Like a song I don't know the words to.
Nico Sloane. Not a threat. Not yet. But he didn't flinch. That's the part that sticks.
I step out, skin flushed and raw, and wrap a towel around me like I'm holding myself together. Steam clouds the mirror, but I don't wipe it clean. I lean in close, breath fogging up the center, and with one fingertip, I smear a line across the blurred reflection.
Just one line. Like I'm trying to split myself in half.
I stare at my reflection behind the streak — fragmented, distorted. I like it better that way.
The door opens without knocking. Only one person would be that stupid.
"Kade," I say, sighing his name like a bad idea I plan to repeat. "You'd better have a reason."
"I always do."
Kade steps in, presence steady, suit sharp, presence sharper. Doesn't look away, doesn't look too long either. He knows better.
"There's movement again," he says. "Eastside, but not the docks this time. Corner market. Same hour. No variation."
He doesn't hand me the photo yet. He waits, like always, for my nod. I give it. Sit on the bathroom counter, one leg crossed over the other. "Let's see him."
He does.
The image is grainy—city cams always are—but I know that posture. The kind of stillness that isn't relaxed but ready.
Coiled. Intentional. Like a man who knows his limits and dares the world to test them.
"You said he's not ours?"
Kade gives a slow nod. "No one claims him. Not officially."
"And not stupid, either."
"Far from it," Kade says.
I stare at the picture longer than I should. Not because of his face. That's a distraction. Because something about him doesn't add up.
Men like this don't exist in the spaces between empires unless they're either laying foundations… or lighting fuses.
"Have him watched," I say. "Not by the usual crew—I need someone who won't screw it up."
He tilts his head. "You mean me?"
"No," I say, half-smiling. "I mean me."
That catches him off guard. He covers it quick, but I catch the shift.
I head for the closet and drag out a black dress—plain, soft, easy to fade into.
No heels. No sharp lines. I don't need to make a scene. Just need to be in the room.
"Serina," Kade says, his voice careful. Too careful.
"Don't," I cut in. "You think I'm underestimating him."
"I don't think you underestimate anyone. Except yourself."
I pause. Just for a second.
"She's the only one who scares me."