Amara slipped out of the dining room a few minutes after Adrian left, pretending she needed water. No one questioned her — except Lyra, whose eyes followed her all the way to the door.
The hallway outside was quiet, sunlight spilling through tall windows, the air still and heavy with the kind of silence that made her heartbeat sound too loud.
She took one step.
Then another.
She didn't know if Adrian was waiting. She didn't know if she should even be here. But her feet moved anyway, drawn to him the way they always were.
She turned the corner—
A hand caught her wrist.
Before she could gasp, she was pulled into a small side room. The door clicked shut behind them.
Her back pressed lightly against the wall, breath caught in her throat.
"Adrian—"
He didn't let go.
He stood close, too close, his hand still wrapped around her wrist, his chest rising and falling like he'd been holding his breath since he left the table.
"I didn't want anyone to see you come after me," he said quietly.
Amara swallowed. "You scared me."
"You scare me," he murmured.
Her heart stopped.
He finally released her wrist, but only to slide his hand up to her elbow, steadying her as if she might fall. His eyes searched hers — intense, conflicted, warm in a way he never let anyone else see.
"Adrian…" she whispered.
He stepped closer.
Not touching. But close enough that she felt the heat of him.
"You shouldn't have followed me," he said softly.
"You waited for me."
His jaw tightened. "I know."
Silence pressed around them — thick, charged, dangerous.
Then, without warning, he reached out and pulled her into him.
A hug.
Not soft. Not casual. A quiet, desperate pull — like he'd been holding himself back all morning and finally slipped.
Amara froze for a heartbeat, then melted into him, her hands gripping the back of his shirt.
He exhaled shakily against her hair.
"Just… stay like this," he whispered.
Her heart thudded. "Adrian…"
"I needed a moment," he said, voice low. "Just one."
She held him tighter.
He didn't move. Didn't speak. Didn't pretend.
For the first time, he let himself hold her like he wanted to.
But then footsteps echoed faintly down the hall.
Adrian pulled back instantly, his hands dropping, his expression snapping back into control.
"Go," he murmured. "Before someone sees."
Amara hesitated. "Will you be okay?"
His eyes softened — the softness he showed only her. "I'm fine."
But she knew he wasn't.
She opened the door to leave, but before she stepped out, he spoke again — quiet, almost reluctant.
"Amara."
She looked back.
His gaze held hers, steady and unguarded for a single, dangerous second.
"Don't let Lyra bother you."
Her breath caught. "I wasn't—"
"You were," he said gently. "But don't."
"Why?"
Adrian's voice dropped, warm and low.
"Because she's not the one I'm thinking about."
Amara's heart nearly stopped.
And before she could say anything, he slipped past her and disappeared down the hall, leaving her standing alone with her pulse racing and her world tilting.