POV: Zayden
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She hadn't answered my calls all day.
And yet… I still knew where she'd go.
When pain drowns your lungs, you run to noise—to music, to lights, to alcohol—anything loud enough to drown the ache. That's exactly what I saw in Elena's eyes as she pushed past the bouncer into the rooftop club, not even glancing around.
But I was already there, watching.
Waiting.
She didn't notice me until her third drink.
Her eyes locked on mine, and something inside her snapped.
"What are you doing here?" she slurred, stumbling toward me, cheeks flushed, fury glowing in her chest.
"I came for you."
"You don't get to 'come for me,' Zayden," she spat, her voice cracking. "You already left."
"Elena, I never left you—"
"Yes, you did!" she shouted over the music. People were starting to turn. "You lied. You manipulated me. And now you want to act like I'm supposed to just… what? Fall into your arms again?"
"No," I said, stepping closer. "But I need you to understand. I didn't tell you because I was terrified I'd lose the only person who ever saw me as just a man—not a billionaire, not a boss, just me."
Her laugh was bitter and broken. "Well, congrats. You lost me anyway."
She turned away—too fast.
Her heel twisted.
And suddenly she wobbled, her body swaying like a flame about to go out.
"Elena!"
I caught her just as she collapsed.
Her body was warm and limp against mine, her breathing shallow. Her hands felt cold.
"Someone call an ambulance!" I barked.
No one moved fast enough. I lifted her into my arms and stormed out of the club like nothing else existed.
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POV: Elena
There was something cold on my skin.
Something soft beneath my head.
Beeping.
Sterile light.
A hospital.
My eyes fluttered open to see white walls, a monitor beeping beside me... and him.
Zayden.
Sitting at the edge of the bed, eyes sunken with worry, knuckles white from gripping my hand.
"You stayed," I whispered, voice hoarse.
He looked up, his eyes glassy. "I never left."
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