The sunlight spilling through Soraya's floor-to-ceiling windows was cold.
Jace sat at the edge of the bed, shirtless, head in his hands. The high of the night before was long gone — and in its place was a dull ache in his chest.
Soraya hadn't said a word when they woke. She hadn't even looked at him.
She moved around the room like he was a stranger. Slipping into her silk robe. Lighting another cigarette. Answering texts. Laughing — laughing — at something on her phone like he wasn't still there, bare and exposed in every way that mattered.
"You could at least pretend I exist," he said finally.
She didn't even glance up. "You do. Just not in the way you think."
His jaw tightened. "That's cruel."
"No," she said, flicking ash into a marble tray. "It's honest. We had fun. That's all."
Fun.
Like he was a toy she picked up, broke, and tossed aside before breakfast.
Jace stood slowly, dressing without saying another word. The silence between them wasn't heavy — it was hollow. Like something had been carved out and left open to rot.
He paused at the door.
"Whatever it is you're trying to run from," he said quietly, "you'll still feel it when the room's empty."
That made her look up. Just for a second.
And in that second, he thought he saw something — guilt, maybe. Or regret. But it vanished just as fast.
"Goodbye, Jace," she said, cool as ice.
He left without slamming the door.
Later that night…
Soraya stood in the private lounge above the club, watching the crowd writhe beneath her like shadows with nowhere to go.
"Rough night?" a voice said behind her.
She turned — sharp, alert.
It was Zara.
Tall. Slender. Dressed in all-black, with dark green eyes that saw too much.
Old friend. Sometimes rival. Definitely trouble.
"I heard you slept with the bartender boy," Zara said, lips curling. "He looks soft. Did he cry after?"
Soraya raised a brow. "Jealous?"
Zara laughed. "Please. I don't eat dessert before dinner."
A third voice joined them — deep, lazy, rich with amusement. "Sounds like I missed something."
Luca.
Black suit. Cigarette in hand. Gold chain peeking from his collar.
He kissed Soraya's cheek like they'd been lovers in another life — and maybe they had.
"I just got back in town," Luca said. "And I hear you've been playing with fragile things again."
"Maybe I'm bored," Soraya replied.
"Or maybe," Zara cut in, "you're starting to feel."
Soraya's smile didn't reach her eyes.
"Feelings are for people who lose."