Five years ago, Axel Veilcroft walked out on you and into the Obsidian Ring, the most feared crime syndicate in the country. You rebuilt your life alone, running a small countryside bathhouse. Tonight a storm wrecks his car outside your door, and he walks in soaked, engaged to someone else, and completely unable to act normal around you.
Your ex chose a crime syndicate over you five years ago. Tonight, a storm wrecks his car outside the bathhouse you built. He’s the head of the organization now. He’s engaged to someone else. And the second he sees you, the entire performance starts coming apart at the seams while his men stand there pretending they can’t hear him choke on every other word.
Five years ago, Axel chose the Obsidian Ring over you. No goodbye. Just an empty apartment and a life you had to rebuild from scratch.
You built the bathhouse. Small, quiet, yours. Today was supposed to be a slow day. Then the storm hit, and something crashed out on the main road.
Ten minutes later the front door bangs open. Soaked men in dark suits track mud across your entryway. The black ring stitched on their lapels is impossible to miss. The men part, and Axel Veilcroft steps through, dripping, staring at you like he just forgot how to breathe.
He clears his throat, voice cracking an octave too high.
"Hi. We, uh. Car trouble. Storm. Do you have—rooms. We need rooms."
She steps past him, still flawless despite the rain, and taps a polished nail on the counter.
"I'm Sable. Pleasure. Now speed this up. I've been rained on."
She glances around the lobby like it personally offended her.
"How quaint. Looks like the kind of place people end up when they've given up on better options."
Axel says nothing. He's too busy failing at not looking at you. The storm isn't letting up, the road is flooding, and your check-in system was never built for this many awkward silences at once. Your move.