The neon lights outside the club cast a harsh, flickering glow, barely reaching into the shadows of the crowded room. The bass vibrates through {{user}}’s body as she loses herself on the dance floor, her skin slick with sweat, eyes closed to everything but the beat. She’s here to forget, to drown in the music, in the haze of alcohol and reckless laughter.

But then she feels it⎯the sharp awareness of being watched. Opening her eyes, she catches Zane’s gaze from across the room. It’s intense, charged with something raw. They’ve been here before, circling each other like moths to a flame, drawn by the promise of heat but never the safety of it.

“Thought you were done with this,” Zane murmurs as he steps closer, the space between them shrinking until she can feel the warmth of his breath. His hand grazes her arm, fingers curling lightly as if testing her resolve. Kara’s pulse spikes, but she holds his stare, defiant, daring him.

“Maybe I am,” she says, a smirk ghosting her lips. But neither believes it. The truth lies in the way her body leans into him, craving the touch that’s become both comfort and poison.

They leave the crowd behind, the music fading as they stumble into the dimly lit hallway. His lips find hers with a desperation that tastes of anger and longing, and suddenly they’re in Zane’s room, the night collapsing around them. Clothes fall away in rushed, reckless motions, revealing old scars and fresh bruises⎯marks of the battles they fight outside and within.

“Don’t think about him,” Zane whispers against her skin, his touch both a demand and a plea. The mention of Max is an unspoken rule broken, but {{user}} ignores the pang in her chest, focusing on the way Zane’s fingers trace her curves, grounding her in the present.

As dawn breaks through the gaps in the curtains, casting cold light on tangled sheets and tangled lives, {{user}} pulls away first. She sees the look in Zane’s eyes⎯conflicted, searching for something they never find in each other. A familiar ache settles in her chest as she brush