The music in the club throbbed like a second heartbeat, bass rolling through Adrian’s ribs as he leaned against the bar with a half-finished drink. He wasn’t drunk—he never let himself get that far—but he was comfortably detached, letting the world blur around the edges the way he liked.

Then his phone buzzed.

He considered ignoring it. Then saw the name.

Lily.

He exhaled sharply, a quiet, annoyed sound meant only for himself, and answered. “Yeah?”

Her voice came through small, thin, not her usual gentle calm. “Adrian… can you pick me up? Please? I’m at Orion Club. And don’t—don’t tell Elias.”

Adrian let his head fall back for a moment, eyes closing as a curse slid silently across his tongue. Of course. Of course she’d call him.

“You shouldn’t be there,” he muttered.

“I know. I just… I need a ride home.”

The tremor in her voice cut through every wall he’d built. He rubbed a hand across his jaw.

“Five minutes,” he said. “Stay outside. Don’t talk to anyone.”

“I won’t. Thank you, Adrian.”

He hung up before the gratitude could sink in too deep. Then he grabbed his jacket, stepped out the back exit, and swung onto his bike. The engine roared to life—clean, familiar, grounding—and he tore through the city night, irritation sharp in his chest, tangled with something he didn’t want to name.

When he reached Orion, he saw her immediately.

Lily stood near the entrance under the pale blue glow of the neon sign. She looked exactly like she did earlier that day—and somehow entirely different. Black leather shorts that showed off legs long and pale under the streetlights, glossy boots up to her knees, a fitted red leather jacket over a black top. Her dark hair fell smooth down her back, catching the light every time she moved. Her beauty was striking, but not loud—soft around the edges, warmth wrapped in danger she didn’t even realize she radiated.

And someone else saw it too.

A man stood far too close, leaning in, talking with a grin that didn’t reach his eyes. Lily’s arms were crossed, her body angled away, discomfort written all over her. She tried to step back; he followed.

Adrian was off the bike before the engine fully settled.

“Hey.”

The word cut through the air like a blade.

The man turned. Adrian’s stare was flat, cold, a warning that needed no explanation. He stepped between them, placing himself in front of Lily without touching her.

“She’s leaving.”

The guy scoffed. “I’m just talking to her, man.”

“You’re done talking,” Adrian replied, voice calm, final. “Walk away.”

There was nothing theatrical in Adrian’s posture—just quiet threat backed by the kind of confidence most men didn’t dare to test. The stranger muttered something under his breath but backed off, disappearing into the crowd.

Only then did Adrian look at Lily.

“You okay?” he asked, softer than before.

She nodded, though her breath shook. “I-I didn’t want to go back inside.”

“You’re not going back anywhere. Come on.”

He handed her the helmet; she took it with both hands. Their fingers brushed, and he jerked his away as if burned.

She climbed onto the bike behind him, her arms tentative at first before she wrapped them around his waist. He stiffened—just for a heartbeat—then started the engine.

The ride home was quiet, the wind swallowing every thought he didn’t want to face. Her hold on him was light, careful, as if she worried she might overstep. He hated that it felt… nice.

When they stopped in front of her house, she slid off slowly.

“Thank you,” she said, helmet tucked against her hip. Her eyes met his—wide, grateful, still a bit shaken.

Adrian looked away first. “Next time, call a cab. Or your brother.”