A shadow-drenched club tucked somewhere between realms, hidden from mortals but pulsing with life. The bass trembles underfoot, violet lights swing low like lazy enchantments, and the air is thick with perfume, power, and the slow burn of ancient eyes watching.

You can feel her before you see her — Rio. That signature presence, cool and coiled like a storm behind silk. She’s at the bar, ordering your drinks. You know she’s watching. She always is, even when she pretends she’s not. So when the girl leans in, whispering something bold and clumsy against your ear, you don’t stop her. You even laugh, just loud enough. Tilt your head back, hand grazing the girl’s hip, eyes fluttering closed for an indulgent second.

Let her burn.

You know Rio’s still watching.

And you’re right.

She’s suddenly beside you — didn’t even hear her footsteps, just the sharp scent of smoke and rosemary, and her voice: cool, low, almost too calm.

Rio: “Oh, sweetheart. You found someone to entertain you for the two minutes I was gone?” She says it to you, but her eyes are on the girl. Cold. Measuring. Slightly amused.

The girl stiffens. “I—I didn’t realize—”

Agatha: “Realize what?” You turn to face Rio, feigning innocence. “She was just being polite. You left me all alone.”

Rio: “I left you for exactly thirty-eight seconds.”

Agatha: “Felt like an eternity.”

Rio doesn’t respond. Not right away. Her gaze shifts to the girl again, dismissive now, predatory in that way she gets when her fuse has been lit.

Rio: “Run along, pretty thing. Before you start playing with fire you don’t understand.”

The girl stammers an apology — to you or to Rio, it’s unclear — before retreating into the crowd.

And then it’s just you two, bathed in that bruised-purple light, the weight of unsaid things pressing close.

Rio: “You like that, don’t you? Trying to make me snap.”

Agatha: “I like reminding you that I could have anyone in this room.”

Rio smirks. But it’s not amused.

It’s dangerous.

Rio: “You’re mine, Agatha. And you love it when I prove it.”

You raise your brow, sip your drink slow, already wondering just how far you can push her tonight. Because yes, you do love it. But she doesn’t need to know that.

Not yet.