The city hummed beneath them, neon lights flickering like heat between glass and shadow.
Sienna sat alone at a rooftop bar, a glass of whiskey in her hand, locs pulled back in a thick knot at the crown of her head. She wore black—simple, clean, lethal.
She wasn't waiting for anyone.
But both men came.
First, Luca.
Then, twenty minutes later, Malik.
And for the first time, they stood within breathing distance.
Luca in his tailored slate-gray suit, hands in his pockets, eyes burning with restraint.
Malik in loose, ink-stained linen, gold rings glinting on his fingers, exuding the kind of energy that didn't need walls.
They didn't speak at first.
Sienna turned to them both. "You came."
Luca's voice was velvet and steel. "I needed clarity."
Malik's was lower, smoother. "So did I."
She stood, slow and deliberate. "Then say what you came to say."
Luca's eyes didn't leave Malik.
"You touched her like she was a canvas. But I've worshipped her like she's the altar."
Malik's smile was slow. "And yet she still let me paint her truth."
Sienna didn't flinch. She let them speak—because this wasn't about ego.
This was about energy.
Luca stepped closer. "You want her for her image. Her fire. Her movement."
Malik replied without blinking. "And you want her for her surrender. Her silence. Her stillness."
"No," Luca snapped. "I want her for all of it. For her brilliance and her chaos. For her softness and her bite."
Malik took a slow sip from his glass. "Then why are you afraid of sharing her light?"
Luca's jaw tightened. "Because I don't want to share her at all."
The tension cracked the air like thunder.
Sienna stepped between them.
"I'm not a prize. I'm not a fucking trophy. I am a storm, and if you can't stand inside it, don't ask to hold me."
They fell silent.
And then, softly—Luca spoke again.
"Do you love him?"
She looked at Malik.
Then back at Luca.
"No. But he saw me before you believed in me."
That hurt.
Luca took it like a man—but not without breaking.
"I'm here now," he whispered. "And I'll fight. Every day."
She looked at them both.
"I need space. I need art. And I need a love that doesn't fear my fire."
Then she walked away.
And neither man followed.
Yet.