Amara dreamed of fire.
Not the warm kind.
Not the kind that healed or comforted.
This was the kind that devoured.
She stood in the middle of a burning building, smoke choking her lungs, her father's voice echoing somewhere beyond reach.
"Mara… run…"
She tried.
But her feet wouldn't move.
Then the flames shifted.
And Adrian stood there instead, watching her with unreadable eyes as everything around them collapsed.
"You should have stayed away," he said quietly.
She woke with a sharp inhale, heart pounding, skin damp with sweat.
The room was dark. Silent.
For a long moment, she lay still, staring at the ceiling, trying to steady her breathing.
This was getting dangerous.
Not the plan.
Not the emotions.
Not the dreams.
She sat up slowly and reached for her phone.
Three missed calls.
All from Adrian.
Her stomach tightened.
She told herself she wouldn't call back.
She told herself this was exactly the kind of attachment she had sworn to avoid.
And yet… her finger hovered over his name.
Just one call, she rationalized.
Just to keep control.
She pressed call.
He answered on the first ring.
"You're awake," he said quietly.
She frowned. "How would you know that?"
A pause. Then honesty. "I hoped."
Her chest tightened unexpectedly.
"What do you want, Adrian?" she asked softly.
He didn't answer immediately.
When he did, his voice sounded different. Less controlled. More… real.
"Come with me."
Her brow furrowed. "Where?"
"Somewhere honest."
Thirty Minutes Later
Amara stood beside him on the empty rooftop of a tall building overlooking the sleeping city.
No bodyguards.
No assistants.
No audience.
Just the two of them and the wind.
"This isn't very strategic of you," she said quietly.
"No," he agreed. "It's not."
He leaned against the railing, gaze distant.
"My father used to bring me here when I was a child," he said. "He said if I looked down long enough, I'd understand how small people really were."
She studied him.
"That's… cruel."
"Yes."
Silence stretched.
Then he spoke again.
"I didn't invite you here because I want something from you," he said quietly. "I invited you because you're the only person who doesn't look at me like I'm something to use."
Amara's heart twisted.
That wasn't true.
She was using him.
She had built her entire presence around that.
"You don't know that," she said.
He turned to her fully.
"I do."
His eyes searched hers, not with suspicion this time, but with something far more dangerous.
Trust.
"I know you're hiding something," he continued. "I know you didn't come into my life by accident. But I also know this…"
He stepped closer, close enough that she could feel his warmth.
"You're fighting yourself every time you're near me."
Her breath caught.
She wanted to deny it.
She couldn't.
"You should be careful," she whispered instead. "People like me… we're not safe."
Adrian's gaze didn't waver.
"Neither am I."
The air between them felt heavy. Charged.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
Then his hand lifted slightly, hesitating in the space between them, not touching.
A silent question.
A silent boundary.
Amara's pulse thundered.
This was the moment where everything shifted.
Where control could be lost.
Where lines could be crossed.
And for the first time since she began this path of revenge, she didn't know which outcome terrified her more.
Touching him…
or wanting to.
She took a step back.
"I should go," she said softly.
Adrian's hand dropped slowly.
He didn't try to stop her.
But his eyes… his eyes held something that unsettled her deeply.
Acceptance.
As if he already knew she would leave.
As if he already knew she would return.
The Next Day
Lydia's phone buzzed with a message.
Unknown Contact:
Mira Laurent isn't her real name.
Her eyes narrowed.
A second message followed.
She has no digital footprint before seven years ago. No childhood records. No university history under that identity.
Lydia smiled slowly.
Now we're getting somewhere.
She typed back one word:
Dig deeper.