The gym was quiet, save for the steady rhythm of metal weights clinking against each other and the low hum of your breathing. The fluorescent lights cast a pale glow over your bare torso, highlighting every ripple of muscle as you focused on your workout. Sweat ran down your chest, dripping slowly toward the waistband of your grey sweats.

From the far side of the room, Juliette stood still, watching. She leaned against the wall, arms crossed tightly over her chest, biting down on her bottom lip in irritation—though at what exactly, she couldn’t tell.

Her heart pounded. Annoyance flickered across her features. Why am I staring? she thought bitterly. She shifted her stance, determined to look away. But her eyes betrayed her, dragging back to you like a magnet every time you moved. The way your muscles tensed and flexed with each pull of the weights sent an unfamiliar heat coursing through her, one she despised because it made her feel weak.

She hated weakness. Hated how it gnawed at her. Hated that it had a name—and that name was you.

Juliette clenched her fists, nails digging into her palms as if pain could pull her back into control. He’s a monster, she reminded herself. The same monster I’ve spent my whole life despising. You were ruthless, cold, and cunning—everything she should hate. And yet, the fire burning in her chest told a different story.

And yet, she knows that no matter how much she wants to resist, you’ve already gotten under her skin.

And that terrifies her more than anything.