Selene barely slept that night.
After Damien left the club, she had stayed behind, nursing a drink she barely touched, trying to steady herself after the emotional storm that had nearly shattered her resolve. Kieran had stayed too, keeping a protective distance but never really leaving her alone.
It wasn't until the early hours of the morning that she finally returned home, slipping into her apartment like a ghost. But even in the quiet of her sanctuary, sleep refused to come. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Kieran—his intense gaze, the unspoken emotions in his voice. And then there was Damien's threat, lingering in her mind like a shadow she couldn't shake.
By the time the sun rose, she was exhausted but restless. She needed a distraction, something to keep her mind from spiraling.
That's how she found herself in her brother's gym, wrapped in tight leggings and a fitted tank, her fists wrapped as she struck the punching bag with focused, controlled hits. The impact sent a dull vibration up her arms, grounding her, giving her something real to focus on.
Left. Right. Jab. Breathe.
Her muscles burned, sweat slicked down her spine, but she welcomed the pain. It was better than the chaos inside her head.
She didn't hear the door open.
But she felt him.
Kieran's presence was unmistakable. It was a weight in the air, pressing against her senses before he even spoke.
"You're still overextending on your left," his deep voice cut through the silence, rich and smooth, laced with something unreadable.
Selene froze for just a second, her fist hovering mid-air, before she exhaled sharply and turned to face him.
He stood by the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest, his body just as imposing as ever. He was dressed in dark athletic gear, his usual brooding expression in place.
She rolled her shoulders back and forced herself to breathe. "Did you come here to critique my form, or are you just following me now?"
Kieran smirked, though there was no humor in it. "Your brother owns this gym. I've been training here long before you decided to turn a punching bag into your personal therapist."
She huffed out a breath, turning back to the bag and landing another sharp hit. "Well, excuse me for trying to clear my head."
Kieran moved closer, his footsteps slow and deliberate. "Is it working?"
Selene's grip tightened around the wraps on her hands. "Not really."
She expected him to push, to try and pry open the walls she had spent so long building. But instead, he simply stepped beside her, holding up a pair of mitts.
"Hit me."
Selene blinked, staring at him. "What?"
Kieran lifted his hands. "You need to work on your stance. If you're going to keep using this as an outlet, at least do it right."
Selene hesitated, her instincts telling her this was a bad idea. But the challenge in his eyes, the silent understanding between them, made it impossible to refuse.
She stepped forward and threw a jab. He caught it easily, his body steady, unmoving.
"Again," he instructed.
She obeyed. Jab. Cross. Hook. Each hit met resistance, but Kieran barely flinched. If anything, he looked…impressed.
"You've gotten stronger," he murmured, his tone softer now.
Selene exhaled, stepping back slightly. "I had to."
Their eyes met, and for a moment, neither of them spoke.
Kieran finally lowered his hands. "Damien won't let this go."
Selene flinched at the mention of his name, wrapping her arms around herself. "I know."
Kieran's expression darkened. "He's dangerous, Selene. He's always been possessive, but last night? That wasn't just jealousy. That was a warning."
She swallowed hard, because she had felt it too. Damien wasn't just angry—he was calculating.
"You should stay away from him," Kieran continued, his voice lower now, edged with something that sounded like concern.
Selene let out a humorless laugh. "You think I don't want to? You think I don't try?" She shook her head, frustration creeping into her voice. "It's not that simple, Kieran."
"Then make it simple," he said, his tone sharpening. "Walk away. Cut him out."
Selene clenched her jaw. "And if he doesn't let me?"
A muscle in Kieran's jaw ticked, his fingers curling into fists. "Then I'll make him."
His words sent a shiver down her spine, not from fear, but from the quiet, deadly promise behind them. Kieran had always been protective of her—but this was different. This was something darker, something dangerous.
Selene took a slow breath, trying to ignore the way her pulse quickened. "You can't fix this for me, Kieran."
His gaze softened just slightly. "I know. But I can stand beside you while you do."
Silence stretched between them, thick and heavy.
Selene's chest tightened, emotions warring inside her. She wanted to believe him. She wanted to trust that he wouldn't leave again. But trust was a dangerous thing, and she wasn't sure she had any left to give.
Finally, she tore her gaze away and picked up a towel, wiping the sweat from her face.
"I need to go," she said, her voice quieter now. "Thanks for the training."
Kieran didn't stop her as she walked past him. But just as she reached the door, his voice stopped her in her tracks.
"You don't have to fight this alone, Selene."
She hesitated, her hand gripping the doorknob. Then, without turning back, she opened the door and stepped out, leaving Kieran standing there, watching her go.
But deep down, she knew the battle between them had only just begun.