Elara's POV
The magic explosives strapped to my ribs burn cold against my skin.
I stand at the entrance of Noir Industries, my red dress hiding enough death to level this entire building. My hands shake, so I curl them into fists. Nine years I've waited for this moment. Nine years of sleeping in alleys, eating garbage, training until my fingers bled all for tonight.
All to kill Caspian Noir.
Through the glass doors, I see the charity gala in full swing. Rich people in expensive clothes drinking champagne that costs more than I used to make in a month. They're laughing. Dancing. They have no idea the Grim Reaper just walked through their door wearing red lipstick.
A security guard stops me. Invitation?
I smile and hand him the forged card Isolde made. My best friend is a genius with fake documents. The guard scans it, nods, and waves me through.
My heart pounds so hard I'm sure everyone can hear it.
The ballroom is massive and glittering. Crystal chandeliers. Orchestra music. Everything beautiful and fake just like the people here. These are the same people who turned their backs when my family burned. The same ones who whispered that the Thornes deserved it for being too proud.
I see him immediately.
Caspian Noir stands near the bar, surrounded by men in suits kissing up to him. He's taller than I expected. Broader. His black hair is perfectly styled, his suit probably costs more than a car, and his face God, his face is unfairly handsome for a monster.
Cold eyes. Sharp jaw. The kind of face that makes you forget he's built his empire on blood.
My blood. My family's blood.
The memory hits me like a punch: flames eating our house, my mother's screams, my father trying to get to us, thirteen-year-old Marcus crying for help. Then nothing. Smoke. Sirens. Death.
I was at college when it happened. By the time I got home, my family was ash and everyone said Caspian's uncle ordered it. Corporate warfare, they called it. Murder, I call it.
I take a champagne glass from a passing waiter just to have something to do with my hands. The magic explosives pulse against my skin, responding to my racing heart. I designed them myself powerful enough to kill, but precise enough to only target him.
In theory.
I've never actually tested them on a real person.
Breathe, El, I whisper to myself. You've come too far to chicken out now.
I start walking toward him. Each step feels like walking through water. My dress swishes around my legs. I practiced this walk a hundred times in front of Isolde's mirror, practiced looking confident instead of terrified.
A man bumps into me. His drink splashes on my arm.
Watch it! he snaps, like it's my fault.
I don't respond. Can't respond. All my focus is on Caspian.
Twenty feet away now. Fifteen. Ten.
He's arguing with someone about quarterly profits. His voice is deep and annoyed. He sounds like he'd rather be anywhere else.
Good. He should be miserable in his last moments.
Five feet.
One of his business partners notices me first. The man's eyes go wide probably because I look like I don't belong here. My dress is nice but not designer. My shoes are three years old. I'm a wolf in a room full of peacocks.
Then Caspian turns.
Our eyes meet.
Everything stops.
I've imagined this moment a thousand times, but nothing prepared me for the reality of it. His eyes are gray not cold like I thought, but storm-colored. Deep. For one insane second, I forget why I'm here. Forget everything except that look.
He's staring at me like I'm a puzzle he can't solve.
Then his eyebrow raises slightly. Curious.
Gentlemen, excuse me, he says to the men around him, never breaking eye contact with me.
No. He's not supposed to notice me yet. I need to get closer, wait for the right moment
But he's already walking toward me.
My brain screams at me to activate the spell now, but my finger freezes on the trigger word.
Three feet away. Two.
He stops right in front of me. Up close, he's even more devastating. Tall enough that I have to tilt my head back. He smells like expensive cologne and something darker magic. Strong magic.
I don't believe we've met, he says. His voice does something strange to my stomach.
I force my lips into a smile. No, we haven't.
You're not on the guest list. It's not a question.
How do you know?
Because I'd remember you. He says it simply, like it's a fact and not the most unsettling thing anyone's ever said to me.
My hand finds the activation rune hidden in my bracelet. One word. One spell. He dies, I complete my revenge, and it's over.
But then he does something I don't expect.
He smiles.
Not a business smile or a fake one. A real smile that makes his whole face change. Softer. Younger.
I'm Caspian Noir, he says, extending his hand. And you are?
I stare at his hand. This is it. The moment I've trained for. I take his hand, feel his warm grip, look into those storm-gray eyes, and I know really know that everything is about to change.
My lips move. The activation word forms.
And then I see it.
Behind him, hanging on the wall a photograph. A family photo I recognize because I have the same one hidden in my apartment.
My parents. His parents. Together. Smiling.
Friends.
The word dies in my throat.
I My voice cracks.
His hand is still holding mine. His eyes narrow slightly, searching my face.
Have we met before? he asks quietly. You seem... familiar.
The explosives burn hotter against my ribs. The magic is unstable. I waited too long. Either I activate it now or it activates itself.
My name I start.
The lights flicker.
Caspian's head snaps up. That's not supposed to happen.
The chandeliers swing. People gasp. Magic crackles through the air old magic, ancient magic, nothing like the explosives I'm carrying.
Get back! Caspian shouts, but not at me. At everyone else.
He pulls me behind him. Protecting me.
Protecting the woman who came here to kill him.
The floor beneath us starts glowing with symbols I've never seen before. Circle patterns. Runes. They're lighting up one by one, forming a design with me and Caspian at the exact center.
What is this? I whisper.
I don't know. His voice is tight. Scared. But whatever you're doing, stop it!
I'm not
The explosives detonate.
Not outward. Inward.
White light explodes from my chest, from his chest, from the space between us. I scream. He screams. Everyone is screaming.
Heat. Power. Pain.
And then
A heartbeat.
Not mine. Not his.
Ours.
The world goes silent except for that sound: thump-thump, thump-thump.
When the light fades, I'm on the floor. Caspian is next to me, also down. Our hands are still clasped together. Our chests are heaving in perfect rhythm.
He looks at me with wide, horrified eyes.
I know he feels it too.
That impossible thing living inside both of us now.
What did you do? he gasps.
But I can't answer. Because I can feel it feel him inside my head, my heart, my soul.
And from the look on his face, he can feel me too.
Security rushes over. People are shouting. Someone calls for a doctor.
But all I can focus on is the fact that Caspian Noir's heartbeat is now beating inside my chest.
And mine is beating inside his.