The VIP room breathes in slow, heavy pulses.

Neon lights bleed across the walls—purple, then blue, then red—washing the room in shifting color. The bass doesn’t just thump; it lives inside the chest, a second heartbeat that doesn’t belong to you. Smoke curls from somewhere unseen, thin and silver beneath the chandelier lights before dissolving into nothing.

I sit still on the couch.

The whiskey is cold in my hand, the crystal glass damp against my palm. Each sip burns a path down my throat—a familiar fire, a trusted enemy. My eyes stare at nothing. The room could be empty. The world could have ended. I wouldn’t notice.

Because the thought won’t leave.

It circles. Spins. Returns each time I try to push it away.

Cold water streaming from the showerhead. The way it soaked through his clothes, through mine. The trembling of his body beneath my hands—not from fear, but from fever. From the cold. From something I couldn’t name.

The way he stepped closer.

The way his arms wrapped around me—slow, hesitant, like he was afraid I’d push him away.

His heartbeat against my chest. That strange sensation spreading through me like something breaking open.

What was that?

I take another sip. Let the whiskey burn away the memory. It doesn’t work.

Ellis. You’re thinking too much.

Why are you still thinking about him? The stubborn boy who cried at the word "hospital." Who clung to me like a child.

It’s annoying. He’s annoying.

So why—

"Mr. Charming..."

I don’t look up. I don’t need to.

Sum’s voice cuts through the bass like a blade through silk—familiar, teasing, wrapped in something almost tender. His footsteps are quick and eager, crossing the room in seconds.

He appears at my side, lips pressed into a dramatic pout, eyes wide with exaggerated offense.

He drops onto the couch beside me, his hand sliding across my shoulder, settling into the curve of my neck like it belongs there.

"Am I dreaming?" He blinks once. Twice. "Is it really you?"

Before I can answer, he pulls me into a hug—too tight, too warm, too much. His chin digs into my shoulder.

"I missed you so much..."

I take another sip. Calm. Unmoved.

"Don’t cling to me. It’s annoying."

Sum pulls back just enough to look at my face. His pout deepens.

"Ellis, this is what you’re going to say?" He gestures at me like I’m personally responsible for all his suffering. "You ignored me for over a week. You didn’t come to the club. You didn’t answer my messages. I thought my friend died."

He squeezes my shoulder hard for emphasis.

"Luckily, you’re alive."

My gaze shifts to him. Slow. Measured. My voice is low.

"Really?"

Sum blinks.

Then sighs. The drama drains from his shoulders.

"I’m kidding." He leans back, spreading his arms along the back of the couch. "Tell me—where were you? Busy enough to ignore your precious best friend?"

"Nowhere."

Sum tilts his head, studying me. His eyes narrow—not with suspicion, but with something softer. Something that knows me too well.

"Ellis." His voice softens. "Are you still angry at me? Because of me, your wifey got drunk?"

My gaze sharpens.

He sees it immediately. His lips press into a thin line. His hands rise—surrender, white flag, I come in peace.

"Okay, okay. Not going there."

I look away.

Sum pours himself a drink. The amber liquid catches the light, glowing briefly like a trapped star.

"Anyway." He swallows half the glass in one go. The whiskey disappears. He doesn’t flinch.

"How was your rut?"

He sets the glass down with a soft click. "And how was the Omega I sent?"

My face changes. Just a fraction. A shadow passing over still water.

"Did you send one?"

Sum nods. "Yes. I sent one that night." He pauses, searching my face. "Didn’t you know? Or did you just forget everything after your rut?"

"I didn’t meet any Omega." My voice is flat. Empty. "I didn’t sleep with anyone."

Sum’s brows rise. Genuine curiosity flickers behind his eyes.

"Then how did your rut end?" He leans back slightly, considering. "Did you survive on just suppressants?"

I don’t look at him.

How did my rut end?

The question echoes—the same one I’ve been asking myself.

How did it end in just one night?

The morning memories return before I can stop them.

Morning light spilling through the glass wall, gold and soft. Silas sitting on the floor beside my bed, curled against the mattress, head resting on his arms, asleep. The cooling patch on my temple—placed there by hands I never felt. The bowl of water on the bedside table. The towel draped over the edge.

He stayed.

All night.

Sum’s hand shakes my shoulder.

"Ellis. Where are you—"

I blink.

"Nothing."

A teasing smile spreads across Sum’s lips. Slow. Knowing.

"Don’t tell me..." He leans closer, his voice dropping into a whisper meant only for me. "Your partner did something."

He pauses, watching my face.

"Ellis." His voice drops lower. "Did you two... do something?"

I glare at him.

The smile doesn’t waver.

"Come on, dude. I’m just asking." Sum shrugs, spreading his hands. "I know you don’t like Betas. But he’s beautiful. Don’t you think leaving a beauty like that alone is..." He pauses, letting the word hang. "...a little foolish?"

My voice is flat. Cold.

"Shut up."

Sum opens his mouth—

My phone buzzes.

The vibration cuts through the music, through the smoke, through the weight pressing on my chest.

I pull my phone from my pocket. Look at the screen.

Silas

The dinner is ready. I’m waiting.

I stare at the words.

I told him to rest. I told him to stay in bed. I told him not to move. And he went into the kitchen anyway.

Another message.

Did you drink?

I set the glass on the table. The crystal clinks softly against the wood. My thumbs move across the screen.

Yes.

His reply comes instantly—like he was watching, waiting, holding his breath.

Can I come pick you up?

No.

You drank. How can you drive?

I can.

Then I’ll send my secretary to pick you up.

No.

Please.

Another please.

Again. Please.

I stare at the screen. The glow of it in the dim room. His name at the top. His words, one after another, stacking like small stones.

Please.

Please.

Please.

I type.

You don’t listen to me. Why should I listen to you?

His reply comes instantly.

I’m sorry. I will listen to you again. I promise.

And before I realize it— before I can stop it— a smile spreads across my lips. Soft. Small. Uninvited.

Sum stares at me.

I don’t notice. My gaze stays on the screen. On his words. On the way he says promise like he means it.

I type.

No.

His reply comes quickly.

Please let me send my secretary to pick you up. Driving after drinking is dangerous.

No.

Please. I swear I’ll do whatever you say. I’ll listen.

I pause. The music fades. The room disappears. It’s just me. And the screen. And his words. I’ll listen.

I type.

Fine.

His reply comes almost immediately—and somehow, I know he’s smiling.

Okay. I’ll send my secretary. Come home safely. I’m waiting.

I turn off the screen. Slip the phone back into my pocket. The room rushes back. The bass. The lights. The smoke.

And Sum.

His eyes are on me. His arms are crossed. His head is tilted—like he’s trying to figure me out for the first time. His voice is quiet when he speaks. Not teasing. Not dramatic. Just... curious.

"Ellis."

A pause. Long. Heavy.

"Are you... in love?"