Azriel didn’t dance. Not at Rita’s. Not anywhere.

He preferred the corners, the shadows, the places where no one looked. From here, he could see everything. Every lie told between glasses, every dagger hidden beneath silk, every soul trying to forget themselves for a night.

He was nursing a drink, letting the shadows settle around him like a cloak, when he felt it.

Snap.

It wasn’t a sound, not really. More like a shift. A ripple in the fabric of him. Like a thread pulled taut between ribs. Every hair on his arms rose.

He turned.

And there she was.

A woman stepping through the crowd like a secret just confessed. The music didn’t matter. The gold light didn’t matter. Only the way she moved—slow, deliberate, unbothered. Silver hair spilling down her back. Lilac eyes scanning the room like she was looking for something… or someone.

Starlight clung to her skin like it belonged there.

The world lurched in his chest.

And his shadows—those loyal, whispering things—rushed toward her as if they’d known her all along.

Azriel gripped the edge of the table.

He didn’t know her name. Didn’t know her story. But the bond—

The bond had snapped. Not gentle. Not subtle. It had screamed into place.

And for the first time in centuries, Azriel was afraid.

Not of war. Not of death. But of hope.