The city never really slept, but that night, it roared. By the time Keigh's security convoy pulled away from the his apartment, the incident had already spiraled into something bigger than anyone had anticipated. Police barricades, flashing lights, sirens cutting through the neon haze. Videos were already circulating online, shaky footage, panicked crowds, Zuri's face unmistakable even in the chaos. A celebrity in distress was a headline waiting to explode.
Inside the SUV, Zuri sat rigid, sunglasses still on despite the darkness, her phone vibrating nonstop in her hand.
"Yeah," she muttered to her manager on the phone, voice tight. "No, I'm not coming home. Have you seen what's happening outside my gate?"
She glanced out the window as they passed a cluster of reporters already camped along the road.
"They know," she added quietly. "They always know."
Keigh listened in silence, already adjusting plans in his head.
"Change of route," he said calmly to the driver. "Drop her at her manager's residence."
Zuri looked up, surprised then relieved.
"Thank you," she said softly. "I can't deal with cameras tonight."
"No one will follow you there," Keigh replied. "We've made sure of it."
The SUV stopped briefly at a gated property across the city. Zuri hesitated before stepping out, then turned back to Nara, gripping her hand tightly.
"Text me when you're safe," she whispered. "Promise."
"I will," Nara replied, forcing a small smile.
Zuri nodded at Keigh, a look filled with unspoken gratitude, before disappearing behind the gates.
Only after the doors closed did Nara realize how exhausted she was. Adrenaline had carried her through the night, but now it drained all at once. Keigh noticed immediately.
"You're not going home," he said, firm but gentle. "Not tonight."
Nara opened her mouth to protest, then closed it again. She didn't have the energy to argue and deep down, she didn't want to.
"My apartment… it's quiet," she said weakly.
"And predictable," Keigh replied. "Which makes it unsafe."
They didn't talk much on the drive back until Nara said, quietly, "I'm starving."
Keigh glanced at her. "Same."
They stopped at a small late-night spot, nothing fancy. Comfort food. Warm lights. Grease-stained menus. Nara ordered without thinking, so did Keigh. When the food came, she realized how hungry she really was, not just for food, but for normalcy.
"This," she said between bites, "is weirdly grounding."
He smiled faintly. "Crisis meals usually are."
She laughed softly, surprised, real and for the first time since the club, her chest loosened.
---
The space was minimalist, expansive, and immaculately clean, more like a temporary refuge than a home. Nara stood just inside the doorway, arms folded loosely around herself.
"This is just for now," Keigh said, sensing her hesitation. "Until things settle.
She nodded. "Okay."
Clear boundaries were established almost immediately not awkwardly, but intentionally.
"You'll take the guest room," he said. "Separate spaces. Discretion. No assumptions."
Nara smiled faintly. "I wouldn't expect any."
They both knew that wasn't entirely true but neither pushed the thought. He handed her a fresh set of clothes and pointed her toward the bathroom.
"Rest. We'll figure everything else out tomorrow."
Later that night, after showers and silence, they found themselves standing on opposite sides of the balcony, the city lights stretched endlessly below them. No words, just shared stillness and for the first time since the chaos began, Nara felt grounded and Keigh, watching her from the corner of his eye, realized something quietly unsettling. She didn't belong in his world, but somehow she fit perfectly inside it.