Serris lingered near the balcony doors, black silk robe clinging to her frame, hair still wet from a shower she took to rinse off the day. Her eyes were ringed in smudged mascara, cheeks patchy with fatigue. She pressed her forehead to the cool glass, breathing shallow, throat tight. Lio watched her from the kitchen, broad shoulders tense beneath a battered gray t-shirt, fingers twitching against a chipped mug. He wanted to go to her, but every instinct screamed caution—his own secret pounding in his chest like a threat.

She turned, arms hugging herself, the robe falling open just enough to show a constellation of new bruises along her thigh from yesterday’s stunt rehearsal. “I’m so tired of hiding,” she murmured, voice barely audible over the city hum below.

Lio set the mug down, the clink slicing the tension. He crossed slowly, bare feet soft on the cold floor, stopping inches from her. “You don’t have to—at least not with me.” His jaw flexed, eyes unwilling to look away. Serris searched his face, as if hunting for cracks in his composure, but all she found was a raw ache—a mirror of her own.

She exhaled a shaky breath. “There was someone. Years ago. A woman. I loved her, and I let her go because I thought I could never be both things—what they wanted and who I am.” Her eyes burned, but she forced herself to meet his gaze. “Are you going to run now?”

Lio almost laughed—broken, bitter. “You think you’re the only one running?” He stepped closer, taking her trembling hand. The touch sent a current through him, fear and longing and relief tangling in his gut. “My real last name isn’t Vaellen. I changed it—ditched everything—after I got out. I thought if I was someone new, I could have a life. Hollywood didn’t care who I was, but the past…doesn’t let go.”

Serris stared at him, stunned. “You’re—what are you saying?”

“I’m saying you’re not alone, Serris.” His thumb traced over her knuckles, rough and gentle all at once. “You never were with me.”

She surged forward, catching him off balance, arms wrapping around his waist so fiercely it was as if she could fuse them into one person. He buried his face in her damp hair, breathing her in, their bodies pressed tight—neither pushing for more, both desperate for safety, for understanding. For a second, he let himself believe it was enough.

Her phone buzzed, shrill and sharp. She pulled away, lips parted, confusion and dread flickering across her face as she read the notification. Photos—her and Lio’s confessions—leaked in real time. The headlines were already screaming. Her secrets, his identity. All of it.

Lio’s jaw clenched, eyes darting to the door as shouts rose faintly from the street below—paparazzi swarming, the world crashing down with every flash.

Downstairs, Zian watched the chaos he’d unleashed from behind dark sunglasses, lips curling into a twisted, satisfied smile as the gossip sites exploded, and Serris’s world split open.

Serris pressed her forehead to Lio’s chest, breath coming in silent sobs, and Lio held her tighter, as if he could keep the world at bay by force of will alone. “We have to run,” he whispered, voice hoarse. “Or we fight.”

Outside, sirens wailed, chasing the starlit night into something far more dangerous.

To be continued...