ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤThe thundering applause that greeted the Monroe-Aragons as they entered the Clubhouse rang loud, almost theatrical—too polished, too sudden to be sincere. It was a far cry from the barely concealed sneers and clipped whispers that once greeted them like clockwork. Back then, their lottery win hadn’t been seen as luck—it was audacity. A breach of bloodline protocol. To the Figure Eight elite, it was offensive, almost unnatural, for people like the Monroe-Aragons to rise so quickly, so loudly, out of nothing.

ㅤㅤTheir newfound wealth had hung on them like the scent of gasoline—loud, inescapable, impossible to ignore. They had been the punchline at every wine-soaked brunch, the cautionary tale whispered in yacht club lounges: money without breeding, fortune without finesse.

ㅤㅤBut now?

ㅤㅤNow, the claps came like thunder before a storm, loud and hollow, because the Monroe-Aragons had lasted. They hadn’t squandered. They hadn’t faded. They’d built. And worse, for the old money—they’d thrived.

ㅤㅤAdrian was never the type to enjoy a large crowd, still, he stood there for his wife, Kate, his one true love. He knew how much this event meant for her, and he wouldn’t do anything that could mess it all up. It was a love that defied comfort zones, a love that whispered, “For you, I’d face a thousand crowded rooms.” 

ㅤㅤWhen an unfamiliar figure emerged beside their parents, launching into a business pitch.  Lyra excused herself with a quick peck on her mother’s cheek and reassuringly squeezed her father’s hand. Their smiles were indulgent, a testament to their trust in her.  

ㅤㅤAs she stepped away, the world around her faded into a hazy blur as she looked around searching for Kiara and Sarah. The chatter of the crowd ebbed and flowed like distant waves. Suddenly, Topper Thornton’s voice cut through the murmur, smooth yet grating. “Hey, Lyra. You look amazing tonight.” The words dripped from his lips like cheap cologne—overbearing and cloying, an odor that lingered longer than desired.

ㅤㅤLyra fought down a gag reflex, gripping the stem of her glass that she grabbed from a waiter roaming around offering drinks a little tighter. She took a slow, deliberate sip of her drink, letting the bitter citrus burn away the disgust clawing at her throat.

ㅤㅤThen Pope’s bruised face flashed in her mind. Sarah’s story—how Topper lost it when she changed her mind, how his anger turned ugly, how his cruelty always lay just beneath the surface.

ㅤㅤHer restraint snapped. “Get away from me, asshole.” The words tumbled out, fueled by a potent mix of anger and disgust.

ㅤㅤRelief washed over Lyra as she spotted her friend’s familiar mop of brown hair. Weaving her way through the throng of chattering guests, Lyra reached Kiara’s side just as the conversation lulled. An endless stream of gossip and secrets flowed between them, punctuated by bursts of laughter that echoed in the candlelit ballroom. Music thrummed through the air, and before they knew it, an hour had melted away in a whirlwind of dancing.

ㅤㅤEvery now and then, Pope would steal a glance their way, a shy smile playing on his lips whenever his father’s preoccupied. He’d weave through the crowd, joining their dance for a stolen moment before melting back into the shadows, a silent promise of camaraderie exchanged in their shared smiles.

ㅤㅤ“How’s JJ?” Pope asked, his voice barely audible above the music. 

ㅤㅤLyra reassured him with a determined nod. “Yeah, he’s okay. Just… busy.” Though her words held a hint of uncertainty, she offered a reassuring smile, determined not to dampen the night’s merriment.

ㅤㅤThe music swelled, a slow ballad washing over the room in soft, golden waves.

ㅤㅤAdrian, eyes twinkling with quiet amusement, extended a hand toward Lyra. Across the dance floor, Klyd was already twirling their mother with surprising grace, his usual cocky demeanor melting into something effortlessly charming. He caught Lyra’s eye and shot her a smug grin.

ㅤㅤShe huffed, rolling her eyes but unable to suppress a smile as she took her father’s hand.

ㅤㅤThey swayed together, their movements unhurried and familiar. No words were needed—just the steady rhythm of the music, the warmth of Adrian’s embrace, and the silent language of a father and daughter who had weathered life’s storms together.

ㅤㅤAdrian broke the silence first. So,” he mused, his tone casual, “anyone special I should be worried about tonight?”

ㅤㅤLyra’s brows knit together. “Worried about what?”

ㅤㅤAdrian smirked. “You know. Is there some smooth-talking Kook trying to sweep you off your feet? Maybe a Pogue with a reckless streak?”

ㅤㅤLyra tensed. “I—” She scoffed, trying to brush it off. “Dad, come on.”

ㅤㅤ“What?” Adrian feigned innocence. “A father should know where his daughter’s heart is, right?” He spun her gently before pulling her back in. “Or should I say… who has it?”

ㅤㅤLyra’s lip curled to a smile, “No one’s got my heart but me.”

ㅤㅤAdrian hummed, unconvinced. “You know, I always thought you and JJ had something.”

ㅤㅤLyra’s face burned. “We don’t.”

ㅤㅤ“Mm.” Adrian smirked. “Is that why you just turned red?”

ㅤㅤ“I—” Lyra groaned, torn between frustration and embarrassment. “Dad, please.”

ㅤㅤ“What? I didn’t say anything.” He shrugged innocently. “Just that you’ve had a crush on him since you were, what… seven?”

ㅤㅤHer jaw dropped. “That is not true.”

ㅤㅤAdrian laughed, clearly enjoying himself. “Sweetheart, I’ve watched you look at that boy the way your mother looks at me when she thinks I’m not paying attention.”

ㅤㅤLyra scoffed. “Okay, that is so not the same thing.”

ㅤㅤ“Really?” Adrian raised an eyebrow. “Because I see a girl who gets a little too flustered around him. A girl who, despite arguing with him constantly, always finds her way back. A girl who wouldn’t waste her breath on someone she doesn’t care about.”

ㅤㅤLyra opened her mouth—then promptly shut it.

ㅤㅤ“Got you, didn’t I?” Adrian grinned, far too smug for her liking.

ㅤㅤShe crossed her arms. “Are you done psychoanalyzing me?”

ㅤㅤAdrian chuckled. “I’ll stop when you admit it.”

ㅤㅤLyra exhaled sharply, glancing away. She didn’t want to say it. Because saying it meant acknowledging it, and acknowledging it meant it was real. And real things? Real things could break her heart. “…He makes me feel something,” she finally admitted, barely above a whisper.

ㅤㅤAdrian’s amusement softened, his grip on her hand tightening just slightly. “Then don’t run from it,” he murmured. “Sweetheart, I’ve known that boy since he was a kid. I just want you to be happy. If he makes you happy, that’s all that matters.” Then, his lips twitched. “But if he doesn’t…”

ㅤㅤLyra smirked. “You’ll kill him?”

ㅤㅤAdrian grinned. “No, no. Just… don’t blame me if he mysteriously disappears and is never seen again.”

ㅤㅤShe rolled her eyes, but the warmth in her chest lingered.

ㅤㅤThe song ended, and Adrian took a step back, patting her cheek affectionately.

ㅤㅤ“Your turn, Klyd,” he announced, leaving her to deal with her disaster of a brother.

ㅤㅤAnd as Klyd proceeded to massacre the art of dance, Lyra couldn’t stop thinking about her father’s words.

ㅤㅤThen don’t run from it.

ㅤㅤShe wasn’t sure if she could.

ㅤㅤLyra barely had time to brace herself before Klyd grabbed her hand, pulling her into a clumsy waltz that immediately went south.

ㅤㅤ“You and Dad looked cozy,” he remarked, his voice dripping with feigned innocence.

ㅤㅤLyra narrowed her eyes. “What about it?”

ㅤㅤKlyd smirked. “Oh, nothing. Just wondering what had you blushing like a schoolgirl.”

ㅤㅤ“Well, I am a schoolgirl and I was not blushing,” she scoffed.

ㅤㅤ“Yeah, sure,” Klyd drawled. “And I definitely didn’t see Dad smirking like he just cracked the Da Vinci Code.” He grinned. “So? Who’s the lucky guy?”

ㅤㅤShe shoved his shoulder lightly, because they were technically still dancing. “Drop it, Klyd.”

ㅤㅤ“Wait, don’t tell me…” His grin widened as realization dawned. “This is about Maybank, isn’t it?”

ㅤㅤLyra nearly tripped over his foot. “What—No—Shut up.”

ㅤㅤKlyd let out a bark of laughter. “Holy shit, it is.”

ㅤㅤ“It’s not!”

ㅤㅤHe leaned in conspiratorially. “Did you tell Dad you wanna marry him?”

ㅤㅤLyra nearly gagged. “Oh my gosh, stop!”

ㅤㅤKlyd was having the time of his life. “Or was it worse? Did you tell Dad you wanna have—”

ㅤㅤ“I swear to God, if you finish that sentence, I’ll throw you into the fountain.”

ㅤㅤKlyd smirked, but wisely chose to shut up. For now. 

ㅤㅤThey fell into step again—well, tried to—before Lyra winced as Klyd stepped on her foot. Again.

ㅤㅤ“Geez, Klyd,” she hissed. “Are you even trying?”

ㅤㅤ“You’re the one making this impossible,” he shot back. “Maybe if you were a better partner, we wouldn’t be a disaster.”

ㅤㅤ“Excuse me? You’re the one stomping all over my feet like a damn toddler.”

ㅤㅤKlyd smirked. “Sounds like a you problem.”

ㅤㅤ“You’re the worst.”

ㅤㅤ“And yet, here we are,” Klyd said smugly, spinning her dramatically just to prove a point—except he overdid it, nearly sending her stumbling.

ㅤㅤ“I hate you.”

ㅤㅤKlyd just laughed. “Love you too, sis.”

ㅤㅤAs the music shifted again, Lyra caught their father watching from the sidelines, his lips twitching in amusement. Oh, he’s never letting me live this down. But for all her embarrassment, a small, reluctant smile played on her lips. 

ㅤㅤThere was a time when Klyd wasn’t around, too lost in his own struggles to care about his little sister’s life. There were nights Lyra wondered if he’d even make it home at all. But here he was, changing for the better, back to his usual self. Teasing her, laughing with her, and being her brother again.

ㅤㅤAnd that, more than anything, made her night.

ㅤㅤThe pulsating music throbbed in Lyra’s chest as the night wore on. She excused herself, the cool air of the bathroom a welcome respite from the stifling atmosphere. A flash of blonde hair had caught her eye earlier—Sarah. She rushes towards her friend’s side to ask her about her whereabouts since the eldest daughter of Ward Cameron didn’t text her back.

ㅤㅤAcross the room, Rafe couldn’t tear his gaze from Lyra. He nursed his drink, a predatory glint in his eyes, as he followed her every move.

ㅤㅤIt was evident that no matter how busy or occupied Klyd was, he always kept a watchful eye on his younger sister at every chance he got. This behavior was well-known among their acquaintances, so it was no surprise that Rafe had to keep his distance whenever Klyd was present. Even if he wanted to approach her at a social gathering, he knew that Klyd’s imposing presence would make it impossible for him to do so without risking his wrath. 

ㅤㅤIt was clear that Rafe was not welcome in Klyd’s eyes, and approaching Lyra in his presence would be a grave mistake. He knew a storm would break if he crossed that unspoken line. 

ㅤㅤOver the last two years, Klyd has successfully managed their hotel in OBX, and the business has been thriving under his leadership, all while still studying. His past drug abuse struggles didn’t stop him from becoming a prominent figure in the world of business.  He credits his supportive family, his hardworking staff and employees, and his sharp intellect for his impressive achievements. The hotel has gained recognition and accolades from many people, making Klyd a symbol of growth and success.

ㅤㅤTen years clean. That was the number Klyd held most dear, a badge of honor far more valuable than any industry award. He never tried any kind of illegal substances again. He still enjoyed a good glass of whiskey now and then, a well-earned indulgence. But unlike in the past, the drink was a companion, not a master. The line between control and chaos was one he knew all too well, a line he wouldn’t dare cross again.

ㅤㅤIt was months ago when Klyd overheard Lyra talking to their parents discussing her past connection with Rafe. He didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but couldn’t help but overhear—they were in the kitchen, for goodness’ sake. Luckily, it was also the same night when Lyra told him while they were playing card games when Lyra told him.

ㅤㅤ“Klyd, I know you have issues with Rafe, but please try not to kill him. He never forced me to do anything, and he didn’t hurt me at all. It feels weird saying this to you, so I’ll just say this once—second base.” 

ㅤㅤThe oldest Monroe-Aragon was left frozen that time after hearing Lyra’s words. Although he knew Rafe was never the type of person to take advantage of women, he couldn’t help but harbor some doubts. After all, Rafe was almost an adult while Lyra was still a minor. 

ㅤㅤInitially, Klyd was frantic and angry, but his heart broke after hearing Lyra’s reasons. He was disappointed in himself for not being able to protect his younger sister. Instead of fixing his relationship with his sister at that time, he began to drown himself in work to forget his guilt. He was giving her cold treatment. The person who used to be her confidant and friend had turned into the brother she never wanted to have—strict, mean, and distant. In the end, it resorted to Lyra confiding in his enemy.

ㅤㅤKlyd considered Lyra his firstborn. He remembered, with a bittersweet pang, when it was just him and a young Lyra, left alone in their previous home in The Cut while their parents fought a desperate battle to save their construction firm. He’d been ten, barely a man himself, yet he’d shouldered the weight of responsibility. In those dark days, despite the constant worry etched on their parents’ faces trying to make ends meet, Klyd and Lyra had each other, and that was all that mattered.

ㅤㅤThen, Klyd returned to school, a beacon of hope flickering in their home. But somewhere along the way, the shadows crept back in, this time disguised as the easy camaraderie of friends. The first stolen sips of beer turned into a raging thirst, and soon, harder substances whispered their siren song. Kate and Adrian, consumed with rebuilding their lives, were blindsided by the monster that had taken root in their son. Klyd, their once bright star, maintained a perfect façade—stellar grades, dutiful chores, and playful interactions with Lyra. But the truth lurked beneath the surface, a darkness that festered with each hit.

ㅤㅤOne night, the carefully constructed façade crumbled. Klyd, high on a cocaine binge, morphed into a stranger. The brother who’d fiercely protected Lyra was replaced by a volatile, unpredictable shell. Gone was the easy laughter, replaced by a simmering rage that flared at the slightest provocation. Even Lyra, his beloved sister, wasn’t safe. A missing stash triggered a volcanic eruption, his anger exploding in a torrent of cruel words and threats. Lyra was forced to cower behind a locked door while the storm raged outside. The bond, once so strong, now felt as fragile as a spider’s web, trembling under the weight of a poisoned love. 

ㅤㅤThe memory shimmered, a mirage in the vast desert of Klyd’s regret. There they were, a tableau of youthful innocence–Lyra, a mermaid princess, JJ, John B., and Pope, her three loyal little knights, guarding against the encroaching tide. Then, a shriek, a searing pain, and Lyra’s face contorted in a mask of betrayal, clutching a throbbing foot. Klyd, his own blood hot with a frustration born of powerlessness, had turned the full force of his anger on the three small figures huddled around his sister. Words, sharp and barbed, had flown from his lips, leaving welts that went deeper than any sea urchin spine.

ㅤㅤHe was so cruel at that time to his sister’s friends. He was just thankful that even after all that, those three boys didn’t leave Lyra’s side, especially when he got into rehab. Perhaps it is finally time to apologize to John B., Pope, and JJ. He owes it to them. 

—

ㅤㅤThe last dregs of champagne swirled in Klyd’s glass, a pale echo of the night’s revelry. He excused himself, the plush carpet muffling his steps as he headed for the restroom. Relief washed over him as he entered the cool, tiled sanctuary. Just as he reached the porcelain throne, a jarring knock on the stall door shattered the peace.

ㅤㅤ“Hey, I’ll be out in a second!” he barked, irritation lacing his voice.

ㅤㅤStupid people knocking at an occupied cubicle.

ㅤㅤWith fumbling haste, Klyd wrestled his pants back up, the telltale clink of the buckle a counterpoint to the rising tide of irritation within him. Then, a voice sliced through the air, a voice that sent a jolt of pure, unadulterated loathing through him. Rafe Cameron. Just the sound of the name was enough to make Klyd’s blood pressure spike.

ㅤㅤThe constant comparisons Rafe’s father made, the unspoken but ever-present judgment—it was a weight he carried with the bitterness of a festering wound. He saw Klyd as the embodiment of everything his father deemed him to lack, fueling a deep-seated resentment that gnawed at him from the inside.

ㅤㅤOne day, Rafe came up with a plan to hurt Klyd where it would hurt the most—by getting himself involved with Klyd’s younger sister, Lyra. He paid a touron a hundred dollars to take Lyra’s first kiss and ordered that touron to ignore her afterward, leaving her humiliated and heartbroken.

ㅤㅤEverything goes according to Rafe’s plan. He was sure of it when Lyra agreed to his offer to meet with him secretly to teach her to kiss correctly. The moment they kissed, Lyra no longer needed to be taught. She was already a good kisser—not like she had to know for Rafe’s sake. Their stolen moments were supposed to be a means to an end. He intended to show her the sting of betrayal. Yet, with each time his lips brushed Lyra’s, a warmth bloomed in Rafe’s chest, a warmth at odds with his initial intentions.

ㅤㅤThe revelation came amidst a haze of swirling smoke and empty sugar packets. Rafe, his tongue loosened by a shared session of Colombian marching powder, spilled the plan. It wasn’t a direct confession, more of a careless boast lost in a drug-fueled tirade. But for the man listening, a former acolyte banished from Rafe’s inner circle, it was a bombshell. Wanting to appease the eldest Monroe-Aragon, he told him.

ㅤㅤThe smug greeting, “Wow, that’s a cute outfit.” sliced through the tense air like a rusty blade. Klyd didn’t need to turn his head to recognize the voice—JJ. But before relief could wash over him, the sight that met his eyes sent a jolt of disappointment through him. Rafe Cameron stood there, surrounded by his usual gaggle of rich lackeys.

ㅤㅤ“Cameron,” Klyd addressed him, his voice a low growl, “Five on one? Disappointing, truly.” His hands, usually tucked casually in his pockets, remained fisted at his sides, a silent promise of retribution.

ㅤㅤJJ’s breath hitched as a figure emerged from the shadows, casting a long, menacing silhouette across the tense scene. Klyd Monroe-Aragon. Rafe, who moments ago had been a swaggering bully, suddenly resembled a cornered mouse. Sweat beaded on his forehead, his eyes darting between Klyd’s steely gaze and JJ’s wary expression. The gaggle of rich kids behind him mirrored Rafe’s disbelief. The fear John B., Pope, and JJ felt for the eldest Monroe-Aragon was universally shared.

ㅤㅤ“Gentlemen! Is there a problem here?” The manager’s booming voice cut through the air like a fire alarm. Kelce released his grip on JJ’s throat, leaving the boy gasping for air. JJ, chest heaving, straightened his rumpled shirt before turning towards the source of the interruption and took the liberty to respond.

ㅤㅤKlyd, however, remained a statue. His icy blue stare locked onto Rafe, a silent promise of retribution simmering beneath the surface. The air crackled with tension, thick enough to choke on. If looks could kill, Rafe would have been vaporized on the spot.

ㅤㅤJJ then voluntarily offered himself to get arrested and be thrown out of the party. The manager’s beady eyes swiveled from JJ’s bluster to Klyd, a skeptical frown creasing his brow.

ㅤㅤ“Is that the truth, Mr. Monroe-Aragon?”

ㅤㅤKlyd ripped his stare from Rafe, the simmering anger a tangible heat radiating off him. He forced a tight smile at the manager. “Please, Klyd’s fine, sir. And yes, that’s the gist of it.” The words felt hollow on his tongue. As the manager nodded, Klyd muttered an excuse, his steps quickening toward the restroom. Before disappearing into the doorway, he flashed a pointed look at JJ, a silent message of urgency passing between them.

ㅤㅤCold water splashed against Klyd’s hands, mirroring the simmering rage within. As he dried his hands, the memory of Rafe’s crass remark about Kiara, his sister’s friend, echoed in the room. Klyd’s jaw tightened, a muscle ticking in his cheek. “If you ever talk about Kiara like that again, I’ll break you in ways your daddy’s money won’t fix,” he muttered, his voice laced with quiet fury. A scoff ripped through his clenched teeth, the single word, “Fucker,” laced with venom, barely a whisper yet loud enough for Rafe to catch.

ㅤㅤKlyd marched back out, his jaw set in a granite mask. He stalked towards Rafe, each purposeful stride fueled by a protective fire. “I know what you did,” he growled, the word laced with a dangerous undercurrent.

ㅤㅤRafe, caught off guard by Klyd’s sudden reappearance, frowned. “What do you know?”

ㅤㅤKlyd licked his lips, “Don’t play dumb. You know what I’m referring to,” his voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. “Stay away from my sister, Rafe. You wouldn’t like the consequences if you ever bother Lyra and her friends again. So don’t push me,” His words hung heavy in the air, a challenge wrapped in a threat. Without waiting for a response, Klyd spun on his heel and bolted out the door, his gaze fixed on the retreating figure of JJ being restrained by the manager.

ㅤㅤThe silence stretched, thick with tension. Finally, Kelce broke it, his voice laced with disbelief. “What the fuck did you do to piss Klyd, man!”

ㅤㅤLyra tapped her foot impatiently, the rhythmic beat betraying her nerves against the polished floor. Her eyes flickered around the emptying party venue before locking onto the commotion near the exit. Security personnel, their expressions taut with concern, were ushering a stumbling JJ out the door. A jolt of recognition shot through Lyra—a sickening sense of déjà vu. But this time, a new element disrupted the familiar scene. Her brother, Klyd, stood at the periphery, his shoulders squared, engaged in a tense exchange with a security guard. The sight of it all—JJ’s expulsion, Klyd’s unexpected involvement—set a fire of raw curiosity ablaze within her.

ㅤㅤHer brow furrowed as confusion settled in. Klyd wasn’t one to insert himself into JJ’s messes. If anything, he kept his distance from any high school dramas. So why was he here now? Why did he look like he was barely restraining himself from throwing a punch? 

ㅤㅤShe turned sharply to him. “What the hell is going on?” she demanded, voice laced with frustration and unease.

ㅤㅤKlyd let out a slow breath, dragging a hand through his hair. “It’s Rafe,” he muttered. 

ㅤㅤLyra’s stomach clenched. “And you? What were you doing with security?”

ㅤㅤKlyd glanced at her, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. “Making sure JJ didn’t get himself in deeper shit.”

ㅤㅤThe bruises shadowing JJ’s face—remnants of his father’s wrath and the recent brawl with Rafe’s crew—seemed to pulse beneath the harsh party lights. A wave of concern surged through Lyra, tightening her chest. She winced internally, mentally adding “ointment for JJ’s face” to the ever-growing list in her head.

ㅤㅤHer world shrank to a singular focus as JJ strode closer. Even battered, even unsteady, he carried himself with an effortless swagger. His disheveled blond hair, thick and sun-streaked, fell just enough over his forehead to soften the sharp edges of his face. The bruises darkening his cheekbone and jaw should have made him look rough, broken, but somehow, they only added to the reckless allure of him. His suit, once crisp, now hung open, the loosened tie slung haphazardly around his neck. There was something devastatingly careless about the way he wore it, like he had been thrown to hell and decided to crawl back with a smirk.

ㅤㅤLyra’s breath hitched. She swore, for just a second, her mouth parted involuntarily, the sight of him leaving her utterly dazed. A shiver skated down her spine, and she wasn’t entirely sure if it was from the evening air or something far more dangerous.

ㅤㅤA scoff snapped her from her trance. She turned her head slightly—Rafe. His jaw clenched, his grip on his abandoned drink tightening. His blue eyes flicked between her and JJ, something dark and possessive swirling beneath them. His shoulders tensed, his smirk faltering for just a second before he masked it with indifference. But Lyra caught it. She caught the way his fingers flexed around the glass, the slight twitch in his jaw. He saw it. He saw her looking at JJ like he was something to be worshiped.

ㅤㅤGuilt prickled at the edges of her thoughts. How could she find JJ so captivating, so undeniably magnetic, when he was in this state? The realization left a bitter taste in her mouth. But her gaze betrayed her, following him as he plucked a glass from Mr. Dunleavy’s hand with the confidence of a man who took what he wanted. Tilting his head back, he swallowed the drink in one motion, the muscles in his neck flexing with the movement. 

ㅤㅤLyra swallowed hard, heat creeping into her cheeks. It wasn’t just his reckless confidence that unsettled her—it was the raw, untamed energy beneath it. A force both terrifying and impossible to resist.

•─────⋅☾ 𝔫𝔶𝔵 ☽⋅─────•

hello! in case anyone’s curious, yes, i am still alive. atp, i’m only continuously writing, updating this book for all the people who want to read this book and for myself.

klyd’s past substance abuse was mentioned. hopefully, i got it right.

let me know what you think about this chapter. thank you for reading!