The door closed behind them with a muted click that sounded far too final.

Alyssa didn’t turn around. She stood near the window of the darkened apartment, city lights bleeding through the glass like distant embers. Her shoulders were rigid, as if she were holding herself together by force alone.

Ethan stayed where he was, a few steps behind her. He could feel the air between them—tight, electric, dangerous. Everything that had been left unsaid over months of bloodless wars, near-deaths, betrayals, and kisses that never should have happened pressed against his ribs.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Alyssa said at last. Her voice was steady, but it scraped raw at...