It was supposed to be a simple morning.
Aaria had classes. Rafael had a deal to close.
She kissed him goodbye in nothing but his shirt, barefoot, soft-eyed, and still marked by the night they'd had.
He watched her walk out the door.
What he didn't expect…
Was how empty the penthouse felt the moment it clicked shut behind her.
The silence didn't feel like peace anymore.
It felt like withdrawal.
He tried to work.
Tried to read contracts, take calls, command the empire.
But nothing settled the static in his chest.
She wasn't here.
And for the first time, Rafael realized—
He wasn't built to be alone after her.
Not anymore.
Meanwhile, Aaria sat in the back row of her lecture hall, pen poised but thoughts far away.
She hadn't spoken to Rafael all morning.
No calls. No messages.
It was… strange.
Was this what space felt like?
Or was it the start of him pulling away?
Her mind was spiraling when her phone buzzed.
Unknown Number.
She frowned, answered.
"Aaria Viraan?" a voice crackled on the other side.
"Yes?"
A pause. A click. Then—
"You should've stayed dead."
Click.
Her breath caught. The world tilted.
Someone knew. Someone from before.
She stood up in the middle of the lecture, rushed outside.
Heart pounding.
Was she being watched?
Rafael's phone rang three times before he picked up.
It was her.
Her voice was shaking. "Someone called. Said I should've stayed dead."
The words were acid in his blood.
"Where are you?" he snapped, already on his feet.
"Campus."
"Don't move."
He hung up, already calling his driver, already rerouting security to her GPS.
He'd promised to protect her.
And someone had just threatened what was his.
Twenty-five minutes later, the car pulled up outside her university building.
She was standing alone, arms wrapped around herself, eyes darting.
He stepped out, face unreadable.
But when he reached her, he didn't speak.
He just wrapped her in his arms. Tight. Fierce.
She clung to him like a girl clings to a lighthouse in the middle of a storm.
"I'm scared," she whispered.
He leaned down, mouth against her temple.
"Then they've already made their first mistake."
"Who—?"
"I don't know. But I will."
His eyes were steel.
"And when I find them, they won't get the chance to make a second one."
Back at the penthouse, Rafael paced like a beast too long caged.
Aaria sat curled up in one of his shirts on the bed, watching him.
"You're not just trying to protect me," she said quietly.
He looked at her, chest rising with something sharp.
"No."
"You're afraid."
He didn't deny it.
"Because losing you," he said slowly, "wouldn't just destroy me. It would unmake me."
And in that moment, she finally saw the truth:
This wasn't obsession anymore.
This was a man who had never been loved, now terrified of losing the only person who ever saw him.
That night, Rafael slept with a gun on the nightstand.
Aaria curled beside him, closer than ever.
And as she drifted into sleep, his voice whispered into her hair:
"Whatever hunts you now… is hunting me too."
And he would hunt it back—with fire.