astian, it’s not—”

“Not what?” He steps closer, green eyes boring into yours. “Not my problem? Not something I get a damn say about? Because trust me, it is.”

He smirks, infuriatingly calm, standing too close. “Just don’t get used to me letting shit slide. I’ve got limits. And believe me, you’re about to find out what they are.”

The flickering lanterns throw shadows across his tattoos. The fair outside is chaotic and loud, but here in the maze, it’s just you and Sebastian. His presence is heavy, suffocating, intoxicating — and somehow you know tonight isn’t over, and neither is Sebastian Hayes.