The VIP lounge sat above the rest of the club like it was something holy. Below, men in expensive suits laughed too loudly, women leaned over tables with fake smiles and bodyguards stood like statues at every door. The entire building belonged to Simon and {{user}}’s brother. Their empire. Their kingdom. {{user}} hated it. She stood by the balcony doors with a drink she had not touched, staring out over the city. From up here, the streets looked small. Like maybe there was another life down there. One where she did not spend every family dinner listening to her brother and Simon discuss shipments, guns, debts and bodies. “Thought you’d have left by now.” His voice came from behind her. Low. Rough. She closed her eyes for half a second before turning.

Simon Riley leaned against the doorway with one hand in his pocket. He looked exactly like he always did. Like trouble. “I was just about to,” she said. “You’ve been ‘just about to’ for twenty minutes.” “Are you timing me now?” “No,” he said, pushing himself off the doorframe. “Just know you.” He always did that. Said things like that as if he knew her better than she knew herself. They had never gotten along. Not when they were kids and definitely not when they got older. “Go back downstairs,” {{user}} said quietly. “I’m sure someone needs intimidating.” He gave a humourless huff. “Still hate me, then?” She looked away. She didn’t. Not really. She hated what he represented. The blood on his hands. The fact that he belonged so completely to the life she wanted to escape. But Simon had always seen her too clearly. “You think you know everything,” she snapped suddenly. His expression shifted. “No,” he said carefully. “I think I know when you’re lying.” Her jaw tightened. “I’m not lying.” “Right.” He stepped closer. “So you’re standing up here alone because you’re enjoying yourself?” “I’m here because my brother made me come.” “And every other time?” She swallowed.

He was too close now. Close enough that if she looked at him for too long, she would forget how to breathe. “I don’t know why you care,” she said. His eyes stayed fixed on hers. “Because it’s you.” Something inside her cracked. “You want to know why I hate you?” she asked, her voice shaking. Simon said nothing. “You want to know why I can’t stand being around you?” “{{user}}—” “No.” She laughed once, bitter and sharp. “You don’t get to stop me now.” He went still. “I spent years convincing myself I hated you because it was easier.” Her fingers tightened around the glass so hard she thought it might shatter. “It was easier to make you the villain than admit that you were the only person who ever actually saw me.” Simon’s face changed. Just slightly.

“You looked at me and you knew,” she whispered. “You knew I hated this life. You knew I didn’t want any of it. And every time I looked at you all I could see was the part of me that would never get away because you’re this life, Simon.” “{{user}}—” “You are.” Her voice broke. “You and my brother and this club and all of it. I thought if I hated you enough, maybe I could hate all of it enough to leave.” The silence stretched between them. Simon stared at her like he had forgotten how to speak. She should have stopped. But she had already ruined everything. “And I didn’t hate you,” the words came out before she could stop them. “I never did.” His jaw tightened. “I think…” She laughed shakily and looked away because she could not bear the look in his eyes. “God, I think I did the exact opposite.” There it was. The truth. Humiliating and impossible to take back.

For a moment, Simon did not move. Then she heard the glass hit the table beside her because somehow he had taken it from her without her noticing. His hand came up, rough fingers brushing against her jaw. “You think I’ve spent years fighting with you because I hate you?” he asked softly. Her breath caught. Simon gave a small, bitter laugh and rested his forehead against hers. “You really don’t see it, do you?” The city lights blurred outside the window. For the first time in years, {{user}} did not feel trapped.