|Serena's POV|
The moment the door seals behind us, the rest of the world dies.
It's not quiet. Not really. I can still hear the hum of the club beneath us, faint and pulsing like a heartbeat under marble skin. But in here—in this sanctum carved from shadows and silk—the noise becomes something else. A memory. A myth. A ghost that doesn't matter anymore.
Because all that exists now is him.
And me.
And the gravity pulling us together like constellations collapsing into one another.
Gryphon lets go of my hand, and I feel the absence like a brand ripped away, skin still smoking. He doesn't speak. He doesn't have to. His jacket comes off first, slow and deliberate, shoulders rolling like a predator unburdening itself of its armor. He drapes it over a leather chair without looking, his e
