Chapter Nine: Fractured Lines

(Ariadne Asselina Ildelfonso's POV)

The moment the elevator doors slid open, I stepped out without a backward glance.

I didn’t care if I looked like I was running.

Because I was.

I needed air. Space. Distance.

Anything to get away from the suffocating presence of Gavyn Del Herrera.

My lips still tingled.

I hated it.

Hated the fact that, even now, my body refused to forget the way he felt.

I marched through the lobby, ignoring Bella and Ahsirt’s curious glances as I passed. I didn’t stop. I didn’t explain.

I just needed out.

By the time I reached the bar, I was already regretting my choices.

But it was too late now.

The neon lights buzzed softly overhead, and the air smelled of whiskey, cigarettes, and regret. The bass from the speakers pulsed through the floorboards, vibrating beneath my heels.

I slid onto a barstool and ordered a drink.

Something strong.

Something that would erase the last few hours from my mind.

A glass of whiskey was set in front of me, and I downed it without hesitation.

It burned.

But at least it was a different kind of pain.

I signaled for another.

And that’s when I saw him.

A familiar presence slid into the seat beside me.

Tall. Sharp-featured. The kind of presence that commanded attention even without trying.

I stiffened.

He noticed.

"Didn’t expect to see you here, Ariadne."

That voice.

That damn voice.

I turned my head slowly, locking eyes with him.

"Arzhael."

Arzhael Velasquez.

My dead sister’s boyfriend.

And the man who had saved me five years ago.

He was the one who had pulled me out of the darkness when I thought no one would.

The one who had found me, broken and abandoned, and made sure I didn’t drown.

The one who had given me a second chance at life.

But he had never been mine to hold.

His dark eyes studied me carefully. "You look like you’re about to do something reckless."

I let out a bitter laugh. "Too late."

He sighed. "Drinking alone? That’s not like you."

I scoffed. "You don’t know me anymore, Arzhael."

A pause.

Then—

"Maybe not."

I took another sip of my drink, my fingers tightening around the glass.

"Why are you here?" I asked.

"My company has a partnership with this bar. I was meeting someone for business."

"Business, huh?" I smirked. "That’s always your excuse."

He tilted his head. "And what’s yours?"

I shrugged. "I just wanted to forget for a while."

Arzhael exhaled, then signaled for the bartender. "One more whiskey for her."

I raised an eyebrow. "You enabling me now?"

He smiled slightly. "I’d rather you talk than drink yourself unconscious."

Something in my chest twisted.

Because that was just like him.

Always the protector. Always the one making sure I didn’t completely lose myself.

I hated that it still made me feel safe.

A few drinks later, my guard had crumbled.

The alcohol loosened my tongue, and before I knew it, I was ranting.

I ranted about my job.

About how frustrating it was.

About how much I wanted to prove myself.

About how exhausting it was to always be in control.

And then—

I started ranting about him.

About Gavyn.

About how much I hated him.

About how he ruined everything.

About how he had the audacity to kiss me and act like he still had a place in my life.

Arzhael listened.

He always listened.

And when I was done—

He just sighed and placed a gentle hand on top of mine.

"Ari," he murmured, voice softer now. "If he still gets under your skin this much, then maybe you never really let him go."

I froze.

Something in my chest tightened painfully.

"I did," I whispered, but even I didn’t believe it.

Arzhael just sighed. "Then why do you still sound like you’re trying to convince yourself?"

I didn’t answer.

Because I didn’t have one.

And that’s when he walked in.

Gavyn.

And the moment his eyes landed on me—

Everything shifted.

His expression darkened.

His jaw tensed.

His entire body went rigid.

He saw me.

Saw me sitting in a dimly lit bar, drunk, leaning too close to another man.

And his gaze zeroed in on one thing.

Arzhael's hand on mine.

I felt the storm before it even arrived.

A sharp pulse of jealousy.

Raw. Uncontrolled.

Gavyn’s hands clenched at his sides. His lips pressed into a thin, dangerous line.

And then—

He started walking toward us.

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