Serena didn't sneak out this time—she stormed out.
Her uncle's voice had been drilling into her skull all day. A pawn. A Vale. A tool. She'd smiled through dinner, smiled through her father's glassy-eyed lectures, but the rage sat boiling under her skin. By midnight, she couldn't breathe inside the glass tower anymore.
So she went where she wasn't supposed to.
The block stank of piss, fried grease, and damp concrete. Serena's boots crunched over broken bottles. A couple made out hard against a graffiti wall, a dealer counted bills on the curb, and for once she didn't care if anyone stared.
Aria was exactly where she expected—propped against a lamppost, hood up, cigarette glowing, watching the world like it was hers. When she saw Serena, her smirk lit the dark.
"Princess," she drawled. "Didn't expect you back so soon."
Serena's jaw tightened. "Stop calling me that."
Aria pushed off the post, slow, deliberate. "Why? Fits you. Spoiled, polished, untouchable. Everyone knows it."
"I'm not untouchable."
"Sure you are. Whole city's scared of your name."
Serena stepped close, fury cracking through her voice. "Do you think I like being a fucking name? Do you think I enjoy being paraded around like some fucking pawn my family moves across the board when they feel like it?"
Aria blinked, but the smirk stayed. "Could've fooled me. You wear that crown like you were born with it stapled to your skull."
"You don't get it." Serena's chest heaved, words spilling out fast, raw. "Everything about me is Vale. The money. The power. The rules. Nobody sees me. They see a tool. A symbol. I'm never the first choice—I'm just the option they can use to get what they want."
For a second, the street noise dulled. Aria's eyes caught hers, sharp, cutting.
"You think you're the only one who's nobody?" Aria said finally, voice low. "At least your cage is gold. At least people want you around. Me? I'm just a bitch from the gutter trying not to starve. Nobody ever chose me. Nobody ever will."
Serena flinched like she'd been slapped.
The space between them buzzed, raw and ugly, both of them bleeding truths they never said out loud.
Serena's voice broke. "Then why do you keep looking at me like you want me?"
Aria stepped forward, close enough Serena felt the heat off her. Her voice was sharp as glass. "Because you're the only one in this rotten city who looks at me like I matter. Even if it's a fucking lie."
Serena's throat closed. She hated how much that hit.
She reached up without thinking, fingers brushing Aria's jaw, trembling. "It's not a lie."
Aria grabbed her wrist, holding it tight—not pushing her away, not pulling her closer. Her eyes burned, lips a breath away.
"You don't get it, princess," she said, voice rough. "If I take you, if I make you mine, your whole empire will burn this block to ash just to erase the proof. That's not love. That's suicide."
Serena's chest heaved. She didn't care. Not in this moment. "Then let it burn."
For a second—just a second—Aria's mask cracked. Hunger ripped through her eyes, raw and sharp, and Serena knew she wanted it too.
But then Aria shoved her wrist down, stepping back, smirk snapping back into place like armor.
"You're playing with fire you don't understand," she said. "And I'm not dying for a girl who doesn't know how to survive her own family."
The words cut deeper than anything her uncle had said.
Serena wanted to scream, wanted to tear her throat raw, wanted to grab Aria and make her admit she felt the same fire. But her feet froze, her hands clenched, and all she could do was watch as Aria turned her back and walked away.
"Aria!" she called, voice breaking.
Aria didn't stop. She lifted a hand, flicked her cigarette into the gutter, and vanished into the shadows like smoke.
Serena stood there, shaking, hating herself for the way tears stung her eyes.
She wasn't crying because of her family. She wasn't crying because of the threats, or the cage, or the legacy.
She was crying because, for once, she'd told the truth. And Aria had walked away anyway.