Kaiden’s back slammed against stacked boxes of snowshoes, breath catching as Lirae pressed in, her gloved hands fisted tight in his jacket. Her cheeks were flushed scarlet, windburned where her dark hair escaped its messy knot, but her eyes—heated amber, unyielding—didn’t waver from his. He tried to speak, to joke, to break the tension that clung to them like sweat under too many layers, but her lips caught his, hungry and bruising.

His own hands—uncertain, trembling for half a second—slid beneath her down vest, searching for the hem of her soft sweater, fingertips grazing bare skin. Lirae’s breath hitched, sharp and fragile, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she surged closer, her thigh wedging between his legs, her palm sliding up his exposed throat and tugging his mouth open wider with a wordless demand. Kaiden let himself drown in the friction, the taste of her tongue, the scrape of her teeth. Every heartbeat was a dare.

He wanted to apologize and to beg, to ask if she’d missed him or if this was just anger burning itself out on their bodies, but there was no space for words. The world narrowed to the heat of her mouth against his, the slide of her hand down his chest, nails catching at the waistband of his jeans. Lirae’s kisses grew rougher, almost punishing, until Kaiden gasped and grabbed her hips, anchoring her against him. Their bodies aligned, desperate, as coats and sweaters were shoved aside in frantic, clumsy gropes, skin peeking through where wool rode up and denim slipped low.

For a brief, dizzying moment it was so raw Kaiden almost whimpered—her breath shaking against his lips, her hands dragging up under his shirt, nails scraping his ribs. He kissed down her jaw, tasting salt and snow, and she shivered. For a second, faces inches apart, they just stared. Lirae’s eyes sparkled with defiance and something that looked too much like grief. “Still think you’re in control?” she whispered, voice ragged.

He answered her with his body, hips grinding desperately against hers, and for a few wild heartbeats they were nothing but need and memory, tongues tangled, hands everywhere, breath hot in the cold air. Then, just as suddenly as it began, Lirae tore herself free, her chest heaving. She stared at him with something like horror, eyes wide, lips swollen, knuckles white as she clutched her jacket closed. Kaiden’s hands still shook, grief and longing warring in his eyes.

The silence in the equipment room felt dangerous—echoing with all the things they couldn’t say.

A heavy boot scuffed the doorway. Lirae spun, hair messy, pulling herself together with the brittle pride of the ruined. “Don’t read into it,” she snapped, voice cracking for just a second, before storming out. Kaiden watched her back, jaw clenched, skin burning with shame and want.

He barely noticed Zira watching from the shadowed hallway—her arms folded across her chest, face unreadable except for the way her mouth thinned in worry. She held his gaze for a long moment, her own eyes shining with secrets, before slipping silently back into darkness.

Later, alone in the medic’s office, Zira’s fingers trembled around her phone as she whispered into a voice memo, voice raw: “You promised me you’d never let it happen again. But it’s already started, and I don’t know who I’m saving anymore. You, her, or myself.”

Back in the silent corridors, Maelis moved quietly, carrying a tray of coffee. Her gaze lingered on the closed equipment room door, then flicked to Zira’s empty station. Her face was careful, lips pressed in thought, but her eyes were full of questions.

Night fell heavy on Heartline Lodge. Kaiden and Lirae—separate, shaken—wandered the halls in opposite directions, each haunted by the ghost of the other's touch.

Outside, unseen, footprints in the snow trailed away from the light. Somewhere deeper in the shadows, a lock clicked open. And in the hush before morning, the first crack split what held them together.

To be continued...