Vera's POV

Gabriel’s hand was still resting on my arm, his voice murmuring something smug and useless in my ear. I didn’t catch it. Didn’t care to. My eyes had drifted, instinctively, to where Claire was standing across the room—and just for a moment, I caught it. Not anger. Not defiance. Just… hurt. Her expression barely shifted, but it was enough. That flicker in her eyes, the way her lips pressed together too tightly, like she was trying to keep something in. The way she blinked a few times too fast.

And then she walked away.

I stayed rooted to the spot, letting the moment pass like it didn’t mean anything. Like it didn’t claw at something inside me. The crew was still watching. Gabriel was still beside me. I knew how to keep my face blank, how to act like I was above it all. Like I didn’t notice the way she flinched when his hand brushed my skin. Like I didn’t feel that slow burn of something crawling up my throat.

Why did it bother me so much? Why did it hit deeper than it should?

I had made it clear. Claire knew what this was. Or what it wasn’t. I’d told her the rules. I kept them brutal and simple.

But that look in her eyes—like I’d cut into something soft—did something I didn’t expect.

She wasn’t jealous. She wasn’t even mad.

She was just... disappointed. And that was somehow worse.

Gabriel chuckled beside me, probably thinking he still had leverage. That he still meant something. I didn’t even glance at him. Didn’t care. Not anymore.

Claire’s face lingered in my mind longer than I liked. And as much as I wanted to shake it off, I couldn’t ignore the tight twist in my chest that hadn’t been there before.

Maybe she meant more than I’d ever let myself admit.

Claire's POV

I was pacing. Again. My legs were sore from the back and forth, but it was the only thing keeping me from spiraling. The second I sat down, the silence would get loud again, and I wasn’t sure I could handle that right now. My fingers hovered over my phone for a few seconds before I finally gave in and hit dial.

"Hey," Emilia answered, a little groggy. “Claire? Is everything okay?”

“Define okay,” I muttered, falling back onto my bed and staring at the ceiling. “Do you have like… five hours?”

Emilia sighed in that familiar way — half amused, half concerned. “I’ve got five hours and coffee. Talk to me.”

I hesitated, then said it. “I kissed Vera.”

There was silence on the line for a beat.

“Wait, what?”

“Yeah,” I exhaled, covering my face with my hand. “And then she kissed me back. And then we almost — well. It’s been... building.”

“Claire,” Emilia said, and I could hear her sitting up straighter. “Since when?”

“She kissed me back, It’s been building up—slow, steady, tense as hell.” I said quickly. “It wasn’t one-sided or a mistake. She even came to my room one night just to lie next to me. Like she couldn’t sleep unless I was there. And for a moment, I really thought we had something real.”

Emilia was quiet on the other end, but I could hear her breathing shift — her focus sharpening. “And then?”

“And then Gabriel came back.” My voice turned bitter before I could stop it. “And I saw him all over her, like nothing happened. Like I didn’t exist.”

Another pause.

“Gabriel?” Emilia asked. “You mean her second-in-command Gabriel? I didn’t realize they…”

“They used to sleep together. I caught them once, actually,” I said, trying to keep my voice light but feeling the sting in my chest. “Back when I first came here. Kitchen. Full show. Vera looked me right in the eye while he was inside her. I think she wanted to break me.”

“Jesus.”

“I thought it was a one-time thing,” I whispered. “But now I don’t even know. She says no one can touch me. That I’m hers. But she won’t say what we are. She won’t admit she feels anything, and I’m tired of being her secret.”

Emilia’s voice softened. “She’s scared, Claire.”

“That’s what you said about Valeria too,” I muttered.

“Because it was true,” Emilia said gently. “Valeria was cold, cruel sometimes. I spent so long thinking I was crazy for feeling something real when she acted like I meant nothing. But that woman? She was terrified. Of loving me. Of losing control. Of needing someone who didn’t play by her rules.”

I leaned back against the pillows, closing my eyes. “Sounds familiar.”

“Remember Marina,” Emilia said, suddenly amused. “Sweet, harmless. But Valeria saw us once—she touched my arm, that’s it—and she almost stabbed her with a screwdriver.”

I laughed, surprised by the image. “God, I remember that. I had to talk her down. She was seething.”

Emilia chuckled. “But she loved me, Claire. Underneath all that fear and fire, she loved me. She just didn’t know how to show it at first.”

I swallowed hard. “And what if Vera never learns how?”

“Then you’ll have to decide if it’s still worth it,” Emilia said gently. “But if she does? You’ll have something powerful.”

There was silence between us for a moment.

“Thanks, Lia,” I murmured. “Really.”

“Anytime. And Claire?”

“Yeah?”

“If you ever need to stab Gabriel with a screwdriver, I’ll hold him down.”

That made me laugh again, the ache in my chest loosening just enough to breathe.

Vera's POV

I stood outside Claire’s door, hand hovering near the handle, frozen in place like an idiot. I’d come here a dozen times in the past few hours, always stopping short before I could bring myself to knock. It wasn’t like me—hesitation. Doubt. But something about the weight behind that door made my chest feel tight, like if I opened it, I’d find a version of Claire I wouldn’t be able to fix.

She hadn’t said a word since the Gabriel incident. No texts. No snarky remarks. No sarcastic jabs that usually meant she was fine even when she wasn’t. Just silence.

And now, here I was, staring at her door like it might open on its own and make the decision for me.

For the first time, I had nothing to say. No command. No defense. Nothing to explain away the way her eyes had looked at me—hurt, quiet, like I’d broken something fragile between us that she thought might’ve been safe.

I ran a hand down my face, fingers pressing into my jaw until it ached. I wanted to go in. I wanted to say something that would erase the way she looked at me back there. But I knew I couldn’t. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

So I did what cowards do. I turned.

Walked away from the door, down the hall with my shoulders tight and my hands in my pockets like I didn’t care.

I could tell myself I was giving her time. Space. That I was trying not to corner her again, trying not to force something she wasn’t ready to give.

But the truth was uglier than that.

I was running.

Not from her—but from what I’d feel when I looked her in the eye and saw she didn’t trust me anymore.

And right now, I couldn’t survive that.

***

I stared at Valeria’s name on my phone for a full minute before finally tapping it. The second it started ringing, I regretted everything.

She picked up almost immediately. “You in jail?”

“No.”

“Bleeding out somewhere?”

“No.”

“You lose a limb?”

I rolled my eyes. “Can you shut the hell up for two seconds?”

A pause. Then, amused, “Wow. This must be serious.”

I didn’t respond.

“What do you want, Vera?”

I exhaled slowly, dragging a hand down my face. “How do you… not ruin it?”

“Ruin what?”

“Things. With someone who... matters.”

A pause, then a suspiciously knowing hum. “Did Claire finally get sick of your shit?”

“I didn’t say it was about her.”

“You didn’t have to. It’s always about her.”

I clenched my jaw. “Forget it. I shouldn’t have called—”

“Vera.” Her voice sharpened slightly. “Just say what happened.”

“I made her feel like she’s just mine. Not a person. Just something I claimed. Like I own her.”

“Yikes.”

“I didn’t mean to. I was trying to protect her—”

“By degrading her in front of sixty people? Bold strategy.”

I stood up, pacing. “I don’t need your attitude.”

“You called me.”

I stopped walking. “Because you didn’t lose her.”

That quieted her.

After a moment, Valeria said, “I almost did. More than once. But I learned that trying to control someone you love only ends in one of two things: resentment or distance.”

I pressed my fingers against my temple. “I didn’t want her to get hurt.”

“And instead, you hurt her yourself. That make it easier?”

I didn’t answer.

Valeria sighed. “You want my advice?”

“I hate that I do, but yeah.”

“Stop pretending you don’t care. She doesn’t want your protection, Vera. She wants to feel like she matters. So make her feel like she does.” Valeria chuckled. “Start with ‘I’m sorry.’ And try not to follow it with a gun to someone’s head.”

I let the silence stretch. I didn’t know what to say. Everything in me burned with the need to fix it, but I didn’t know how to stop breaking things.

Then Valeria added, “Also, maybe don’t sleep with other people while she’s watching.”

My eyes narrowed. “You’re enjoying this.”

“Of course I am. Call me if you need more wisdom, little sis.”

She was about to hang up when I cut in, “Wait—how the hell do you know this?”

She laughed. “Claire called Emilia.”

I straightened. “She what?”

“She talked to her. Said some things. Emilia told me a few. Relax, she didn’t trash you… that much.”

“What did she say?” I asked, sharp and immediate.

Valeria hummed teasingly. “Go fix it.”

“Valeria, don’t you dare hang up on me.”

Click.

I stared at my phone, jaw tight. “I hate having a sister. Why the hell did I call her?”

But deep down… I was glad I did.

I thought about Claire. Her voice cracking. The look in her eyes before she turned away from me.

The guilt still clawed at me, but my storms were too loud tonight. I couldn’t say the right thing right now—not without ruining it more.

Tomorrow. I’d find her in the morning. When the fire in me was just smoke. When I could think straight and maybe, for once, speak without breaking her.

She deserved that much.

Even if I didn’t know how to give it.

Claire's POV

The sun was just rising when I rolled out of bed. The air was still cool, crisp against my skin as I pulled on my running shoes. Vera had told me not to leave the safehouse—strict orders, actually—but I needed to breathe. I needed to run. After everything, being cooped up in that room felt like suffocating. She could deal with it later.

The roads were empty, the world still waking up. My feet hit the pavement with rhythm, but my mind was a mess of jumbled thoughts. Vera’s silence. Gabriel’s smug face. Emilia’s advice replaying over and over in my head like a soundtrack I couldn’t shut off. I didn't know what I was doing anymore.

I was rounding the third block when I heard footsteps behind me. I turned slightly to see Elias catching up, his breathing steady as he fell into step beside me.

“Morning,” he said with a nod.

“Hey,” I panted, a little surprised to see him again. “Decided to stalk me?”

He gave a breathy laugh. “You’re not that hard to track down. Vera’s safehouse only has so many exits.”

“I’ll tell her you’ve been tailing me,” I joked.

“Please don’t,” he smirked. “I like having both legs attached.”

We ran in silence for a minute, the sounds of the city slowly stirring around us. Then he glanced over.

“You left yesterday. Everything okay?”

I kept my gaze forward. “Yeah. Just got tired.”

He didn’t push, but I could feel his curiosity. I wasn’t about to spill my drama with Vera in the middle of a jog, though. The image of her with Gabriel still burned somewhere under my skin.

“You don’t like Gabriel,” Elias said, more of a statement than a question.

I exhaled sharply. “What gave it away?”

He chuckled. “He’s… a lot.”

“That’s one word for him.”

We turned a corner, slowing our pace.

“You wanna grab coffee?” he asked. “There’s a decent place two blocks from here.”

I hesitated, but then nodded. “Yeah, sure. I could use something normal.”

He smiled, and we jogged the rest of the way in silence. Once we reached the café, we slowed to a walk, a rare moment of calm settling between us.

I knew I was going to catch hell for this when I got back. But for a little while, it felt good to be somewhere that didn’t feel like a war zone. Somewhere I could just exist.

Vera's POV

I was in the kitchen, standing in front of the coffee pot as it hissed to life. My fingers drummed against the counter, restless. I told myself I’d talk to Claire this morning, once the storm inside her—inside me—settled. Coffee first. Peace offering. Something small, something that said I was trying.

I thought about what I’d say. What could I even say that would fix the way she looked at me last night? The kind of hurt I had no right to cause. Maybe I’d start with I’m sorry, maybe with a joke, something to draw out her sarcasm, to remind her that we didn’t always fight like this. That I didn’t always shut her out.

I reached for a second cup. I was pouring, already thinking about how I’d knock on her door—softly, for once—when I felt arms wrap around my waist.

Too strong.

Too rough.

Not Claire.

My body moved on reflex, twisting out of the grip, already reaching for the knife near the sink—but I paused when I saw him.

Gabriel.

He didn’t look fazed. He didn’t even remove his hands right away. He just gave me that infuriating smirk of his and rested his palms on the counter on either side of me, caging me in.

“You’re tense,” he said. “Thought I’d help.”

Before I could shove him off, I heard the door creak open.

My head snapped toward it.

Claire was standing there.

And beside her…

Elias.

What the hell—?

My blood ran cold. Claire didn’t know the rat’s name. I never told her. No one did.

I stared at him, at the smug familiarity in his posture, the way he stood next to her like they’d been talking.

She didn’t know.

And now, she just walked in and saw me with Gabriel’s hands on me—again.

Claire froze in place, eyes locked on Gabriel’s hands and the way his body boxed mine in. She didn’t speak. Her face didn’t twist into fury, or shock, or sarcasm. It just… dropped. All the color drained from it. And for a second, she looked like she couldn’t breathe.

I moved instantly, stepping back, shrugging Gabriel’s touch off like it burned. “Claire—”

But she wasn’t looking at me anymore. Her eyes shifted to Elias beside her. And then back to me. Her jaw tightened. Her mouth opened, like she was about to say something. But nothing came out.

I realized I wasn’t holding the mug anymore. It was shattered on the floor at my feet.

And somehow, it wasn’t the loudest thing in the room.