Beneath the Mask
The rain came down in silver sheets, blurring the city's skyline as Kaia crouched behind the crumbling pillar of the old cathedral. Her breath fogged the air, but her heart was ice. She clutched the flash drive tighter in her palm, the one she'd ripped from the security mainframe at Alaric Tower.
On it? A partial recording. Footage Damon had buried.
And a voice she hadn't heard in years.
Her mother's scream.
He lied. He knew. He's always known.
Footsteps echoed behind her—measured, unhurried.
She didn't have to turn to know who it was.
"Tell me, *Kaia*," Damon's voice slithered through the storm like smoke. "Was it worth breaking into my home for that?"
She rose slowly, every movement calculated. Her black leather coat clung to her soaked skin. She didn't flinch when she met his eyes—dark, unrepentant, furious.
"You had the evidence all this time," she said, voice cold as ash. "You let me believe they died for nothing."
His jaw tightened. "I protected you."
"You *controlled* me."
Lightning split the sky. Damon's eyes flashed with it.
"You think I don't wake up every night hearing your mother's voice?" he said, stepping closer. "You think I don't remember dragging your broken body from that fire, Kaia? You think I don't—"
"Don't you dare pretend you cared."
The slap of her words landed louder than the thunder.
He closed the distance between them in two strides. His hand seized her wrist—the one clutching the flash drive.
"What will you do with it?" he murmured. "Expose me? Kill me? Or do you still want me too badly to choose?"
Kaia's breath hitched.
"I hate you," she whispered, but the tremble in her voice betrayed her.
He yanked her forward, their bodies crashing like war and wildfire. "Liar."
Then he kissed her—hard, brutal, claiming. She fought it at first. Scratched at his shoulders, shoved at his chest.
But rage bled into longing, and her fingers curled into his soaked shirt as she kissed him back—furiously, hungrily.
It wasn't gentle. It wasn't sweet.
It was years of lies and lust and pain exploding in a tangle of wet lips and sharp gasps.
His mouth moved from hers to her neck, teeth grazing the skin just above her pulse.
"You never hated me," he rasped. "You hated that I made you *feel*."
Her jacket hit the stone floor. His followed. Hands mapped old scars, tested new boundaries.
She pushed him against the cold wall of the cathedral, her voice a low growl. "If this is the last time, I want you to *remember* it."
He flipped their positions, pressing her back against the pillar.
"Oh, I'll remember," he said darkly. "I'll carve it into my fucking bones."
Rain soaked them as they took from each other everything they couldn't say. Her legs wrapped around his waist. His hands buried in her hair. A blur of moans and thunder and desperate mouths.
And when it was over—when the fury had drained from their bodies, and reality came slamming back in—Kaia pulled away first.
She picked up the flash drive.
Clenched it.
And looked Damon in the eye.
"This doesn't change what you did," she said, chest still heaving. "It only proves how much I still have to lose."
She turned and walked into the rain, leaving him standing against the broken wall—drenched, breathless, and undone.
As Kaia disappeared into the shadows, Damon's fist slammed into the stone behind him, cracking it.
She had the proof now.
And he… still had no idea what game she was playing.
But one thing was clear.
Kaia Seraphine was done being anyone's pawn.
Now, she was the one setting the board.
And the king had just tasted defeat.