The rooftop was quiet.
Too quiet.
Selene Vale stood with her hands gripping the rusted railing, her silk blouse billowing in the wind like something alive. Below her, the lower city growled—sirens wailing, horns blaring, bass thumping from someone’s midnight joyride. It was chaos. Beautiful, filthy chaos.
She didn’t recoil.
She was born from its breath.
The cold bit into her skin, but she didn’t move. Only glanced once at her phone as it vibrated.
Darius: On my way up. Alone, like you asked.
She locked the screen. Lied to herself.
You’re not nervous. You’re not hoping. You’re not breaking.
But her fingers trembled slightly when she lit a cigarette.
Not from fear but from memory.
Every lie starts with a flicker.
And he’d always been gasoline.
The elevator dinged behind her. The
