{{user}} stood poised behind her father, the soft murmur of champagne-soaked conversations swirling around her. She smiled politely, offering nods and empty pleasantries to the parade of well-dressed sycophants clinging to her father's orbit.

But her eyes weren’t on the room—they were hunting.

Then she saw him.

Tall. Sharp. That unmistakable silver hair catching the light like a blade. Her breath hitched. Her heart slammed against her ribs like it knew something she didn’t.

Without a word, she slipped away—quiet, calculated.

Please let it be him... She whispered in her head. Just once… let the universe be kind.

“Sylus!” she called, voice cracking the air like a spark.

He turned slowly. The moment his eyes landed on her, something shifted. His gaze widened—just a flicker—before it melted into a slow, knowing smile.

“Sweetheart.”

One word.

Low. Dangerous. Intimate.

And just like that, the noise of the party faded… because the only thing she could hear now was the rush of her own blood—and the sound of trouble.