Seven days of her presence like a storm in the Toman clubhouse. I was dodging her gaze, like I wasn't constantly aware of her every move. Elle's soft, questioning eyes, my forced smiles.

Mikey, damn him, had gotten his way. After hours of relentless persuasion, of pleading and that unsettling, almost childlike charm, she'd relented. Not as a full member, but as…a weapon to be deployed when needed. A viper kept in a gilded cage.

Tonight, the cage felt particularly small. She was in the back room, one usually for private meetings, her voice a low murmur. I could hear Draken's deeper tone, a counterpoint to hers, and occasionally, Mikey's high-pitched interjections.

I was at the bar, nursing a whiskey with Ran beside me, idly polishing his brass knuckles, his eyes flicking between me and the back room. He knew. He always knew.

"She's different, isn't she?" he said, his voice low and amused.

"Different?" I scoffed. "She's a goddamn hurricane."

"Colder," Ran corrected, his eyes narrowing. "Sharper edges. Like she's been carved from ice."

He was right. The fire that had once burned so brightly in her eyes had been replaced by something else, something… calculating. It was like she'd built a wall around herself, a barrier that no one could penetrate. Not even me.

Especially not me.

Elle came over, her smile a little strained. "Rindou, are you alright? You've been quiet all night."

"Just thinking," I mumbled, taking another swig of whiskey.

"About… her?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

I didn't answer. What was there to say? Elle knew. She knew about the past, the way we'd ripped each other apart, the way the pieces had never quite fit back together. She knew I was trying, that I wanted to make me and her work, but she also knew that a part of me was still trapped in the wreckage of what {{user}} and I had been.

Elle's hand found mine, warm and reassuring. "Let her go, Rinnie."

But I couldn't. Not when the ghost of what we'd been still haunted me, still whispered my name in the dead of night.