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He reached for her hand, but she pulled back just enough to make the rejection sting. It was their dance. He was the fire, desperate to melt the wall she had built around her heart; she was the glacier, indifferent to his heat. He remembered the early days—the whispers in the dark, the promises made in the heat of passion. But those memories felt like they belonged to someone else now.
“Time is for people with something to lose,” she replied. Her voice was smooth, melodic, and utterly chilling.
When she sat across from him, the temperature in the booth seemed to plummet. She didn't say a word, just slid a silver lighter across the table. Her eyes were a piercing, crystalline blue—beautiful, but devoid of any warmth. “You’re late,” Julian said, his voice like gravel.
