Celeste
The music didn't slow, but time did.
Celeste didn't know when it happened — when the sounds stopped being noise and started sinking into her bones. She was moving without thinking now, the beat guiding her more than her thoughts ever could. Damien's hand found her waist, steady but not heavy, like he knew she'd pull back if he pushed too hard.
He didn't say a word. He didn't have to.
His eyes were on her — not the way people used to look at her, scanning, judging — but like he actually saw her. Not the name. Not the mess. Just her.
Celeste's fingers found his shoulder, then slid down to rest on his chest. She hated how safe it felt. How familiar. Like this was something they'd done a hundred times before.
She met his eyes. "Why do you keep showing up for me?"
His expression didn't shift. "Because you keep needing someone."
She let out a dry laugh. "That's dangerous logic."
He didn't flinch. "So is pretending you're fine."
The lights flashed violet and gold. Her face softened. For the first time in days, the ache in her chest didn't feel sharp — it just felt quiet.
Damien leaned closer, lips near her ear. "We don't have to talk. We can just be."
And for once… that was enough.
Leon
"You're out of your mind."
Viper's voice was calm, but the steel underneath it was unmistakable. He didn't yell — he never needed to.
Leon stood in front of him, arms crossed, eyes unblinking.
"She's alive."
Viper didn't respond right away. He just stared, eyes cold and unreadable. The office around them was dim, like it always was — walls lined with weapons, maps, things no outsider should see. Kalen was nowhere in sight.
Leon took a slow breath. "I spoke to someone who found a girl in the ruins. Burned. Confused. No memory. Same night Ayla disappeared."
"Lots of people burned that night."
Leon stepped forward. "She called herself Celeste."
That got a flicker of something. Not much. But enough.
Viper turned his head slightly. "You think Ayla's out there… living someone else's life?"
"I don't just think it." Leon's voice dropped. "I've seen her. I've looked in her eyes. She doesn't know who she is — but I do."
Viper's jaw clenched. Just once.
"She's mine," Leon said quietly. "I lost her once. I'm not losing her again."
There was a long pause.
Then Viper turned away, slowly lowering into the chair behind his desk. His fingers tapped once against the wood.
"If you're wrong," he said, "you're playing with fire."
Leon didn't blink. "Then let it burn."