By the time they left the mall, the city had turned gold. The Defender's headlights traced silver lines along the road as dusk deepened around them.
Marcus was uncharacteristically quiet, watching the city pass by in glass and steel reflections. "Feels weird," he said finally. "Seeing you like this."
Edward glanced at him. "Like what?"
"Like you're not carrying the world on your back for once."
Edward smiled faintly. "Maybe I set it down."
The car rolled to a stop in front of a rooftop restaurant, all warm light and clean lines. The sign above the entrance read Altaire, its glow soft against the evening sky.
Inside, the atmosphere was hushed — a low hum of conversation, the faint clink of silverware, jazz curling through the air like smoke. A host guided them to a corner table overlooking the city. From up here, the streets looked like veins of molten gold, the skyline breathing light.
Edward let out a slow breath. "It's beautiful," he murmured.
Marcus gave a low chuckle. "Yeah, and probably costs a fortune just to sit here."
They ordered — ribeye, roasted vegetables, a bottle of red wine that the waiter described with too many Fancy minerals.
When the plates arrived, Edward hesitated for a moment before taking the first bite. The steak was tender — perfectly seared, the juices rich and smoky with a hint of rosemary. The potatoes melted on his tongue, buttery and seasoned just right. The wine followed like silk, earthy and warm, spreading through his chest with quiet satisfaction.
He hadn't realized how long it had been since food had tasted like this — not just eaten to survive, but experienced. Every flavor felt sharper, cleaner, as if the world itself had decided to taste new again.
Marcus took a bite and froze mid-chew. "Oh, wow. Okay, yeah, this is ridiculous."
Edward smiled, cutting another piece. "Better than ramen, huh?"
Marcus swallowed, eyes wide. "Ramen doesn't even deserve to exist in the same sentence as this."
The humor faded into a comfortable silence. They ate slowly, savoring each bite. For Edward, the meal wasn't just about luxury — it was about the absence of fear. The quiet freedom of ordering something without mentally calculating what bill it might cost him later.
When he set down his fork, he leaned back and looked out the window. The city lights blurred softly through the glass, and for the first time in years, his chest felt open.
Marcus broke the silence. "Crazy how fast things change, huh? A month ago, we were counting coins. Now you're sipping wine that probably has a last name."
Edward chuckled under his breath. "Yeah. Feels unreal sometimes."
"You ever worry it'll all go away?"
Edward's gaze lingered on the skyline. "Maybe. But for now, I think I'll just… taste it while it lasts."
The waiter passed, refilling their glasses. The sound of the wine pouring — low and smooth — blended with the city's heartbeat below.
For a moment, they didn't talk. They didn't need to. The food, the view, the quiet — it was enough.
While Edward savored the last of his wine, miles away Selene Hale was not having a good night.
Far away from that new, glittering life, another town moved at a different pace — quiet, measured, almost gentle. People there walked without hurrying; time seemed more forgiving. In a private karaoke room on the edge of town, a cluster of recent graduates laughed and sang off-key, the kind of easy noise that makes a small place feel alive.
They all fell silent the moment Selene Hale pushed through the door.
Selene — Edward's adopted sister — had always carried herself like armor: composed, precise, a person who made people step back without raising her voice. Tonight, though, the edges of that armor had been buffed to a harsh shine. Her jaw set, her eyes sharp as flint. The room, which had been bright and loud a second before, tightened around her.
"How long is this going to take?" she snapped, voice high with impatience. "When are they bringing that— that mouse-faced liar in here?"
One of her friends rolled his eyes. "Selene, chill. They're on their way. Jay and Roy have him — he can't exactly escape."
"Good," she said, hands twisting a strand of hair into a coil. "He had the nerve to tell people I'm his girlfriend. He spread it around the dorm like it's some joke. I won't have rumors reach my brother — not when I can stop them."
Her anger was a peculiar thing: hot and immediate, but laced with something else — an almost childish, desperate protectiveness. Selene had just gotten into Edward's old university, and the admission felt like a bridge: a chance to be closer to the only person she'd ever let herself need. That closeness made any slight against him feel personal, poisonous.
"Let me deal with it," she said, quieter now. "Before it reaches him."
Her friends glanced at one another. "You'll actually go after him?"
"If I have to," Selene said. "I won't let some idiot tarnish my name — not on my watch."