Rain spatters across the windshield in frantic bursts. Renn’s hair hangs damp in his eyes as he leans against the car, the dark cotton of his uniform clinging to his shoulders, breath fogging, fists jammed in his pockets. Maelis slams her driver’s door, keys slipping from nerveless fingers. Her dress is streaked with mud and glitter, black velvet caught up at her hip, curls frizzed and wild around her flushed face. For a moment, neither speaks; thunder paces in their silence.

Renn looks at her, jaw tight, gaze desperate. “I can’t lose her—not Seria, not you.”

Maelis meets his stare, something reckless blooming in her chest. She presses her palm to his cheek, thumb tracing his jaw. He shudders at her touch, eyes fluttering closed. She pulls him against her, mouth crashing into his, cold lips turning fevered as his hands tangle in her hair. The city blurs behind them, the night meaning nothing but the taste and heat of this moment.

Inside the car, the world narrows. Renn pulls Maelis into his lap, fingers trembling as they slide under velvet, seeking skin. She gasps, thighs clenching around him, breath broken, nails scraping gently down his neck. He kisses her with need, every touch laced with apology, promise, and wild hunger. Her body arches, greedy, as his hands drift up her ribs, the wet cling of her dress peeled aside.

“Not here,” Maelis whispers, trailing kisses down his throat, yet doesn’t stop unbuttoning his shirt, each button a defiant act. Rain runs in rivers across the glass; thunder mutes her whimpers.

He cups her face, thumb brushing away her tears. “I’m sorry. For everything I've kept—”

She cuts him off, kissing him hard, devouring the apology. “Just love me now. Please.”

He does—slow, dizzying, bodies pressed close, the car rocking as need pulls them under. His hands are everywhere: mapping old scars, claiming new ground, holding her as if she might disappear. The world is cold, but within this capsule of fogged windows and shared breath, they carve space for hope. Maelis lets herself fall—utterly, fiercely—her laughter bubbling up with tears as they reach for each other over and over, gripping and gasping, neither able to let go.

Elsewhere, Sylith watches the ballroom from outside, soaked and rigid. Her sharp suit is rumpled, mascara bleeding beneath unreadable eyes. She crushes her security badge in her fist, jaw slack with heartbreak as police lights flash along the drive. Beside her, Leor sits on the wet curb, shivering in his waiter's vest, bandaged wrist trembling in his lap. He glances up, face raw, eyes creased with regret, voice cracked as he says, “I’m still here, aren’t I?” Sylith just nods, her mask half-fallen, tears mingling with rain. For once, neither is alone in their ruin.

Time fractures when the ballroom doors burst wide. Arkyn, immaculate in his tailored suit, steps into the storm, flanked by two officers with radios crackling. He locks eyes with Renn and Maelis through misted glass—his thin smile knives through the night.

Maelis pulls her dress down with shaking hands, chest rising, falling. Renn’s fingers rest over her heart as he exhales, forehead pressed to hers, both of them gilded in panic and rain-soaked devotion. The future swallows them whole: custody, exposure, the threat of Seria torn away forever.

A voice shouts, urgent, dread-laced. Flashlights cut through the dark. The car doors rattle under police hands, everything they fought for hanging by the thinnest thread.

To be continued…