Gianna.
He flicks the cigarette over the edge of the rooftop like it means nothing.
It spins once before disappearing into the dark below.
His eyes never leave the guy who’d been holding it.
Ivan’s posture is loose, almost lazy, hands relaxed at his sides—but there’s something coiled beneath it. Something restrained. Something dangerous.
The smoker scoffs, trying to save face. “What’s your—”
Ivan steps forward.
That’s it.
The guy mutters under his breath and backs away, swallowed by the crowd like he was never brave enough to begin with.
Silence stretches.
Half a second.
Long enough for me to realize my heart is pounding too hard, too fast.
Ivan turns to me.
He doesn’t search my face. Doesn’t demand anything.
He just asks.
“Are you okay?” he asks quietly.
I hate that the fi
