She didn’t look at me again.
She was already moving—stepping forward, sliding into the rhythm of the room like she’d been doing it her entire life. Conversations opened for her. People adjusted around her. Smiles exchanged, measured, controlled.
Effective.
And just like that—she was gone. Still in front of me. Still within reach.
But absorbed into it.
My jaw tightened. I hated that I wanted to closer. Hated that my body instantly felt her absence. Damned the way the eyes always fell back to her. And I loathed the way all of it was melting into a complete lie.
I let the thoughts die where they started. Shifted focus. Across the room.
Rawlings stood near the bar, exactly where he would’veplaced himself—visible enough to be found, removed enough to make people come to him. A drink in his hand he hadn’t touched. Posture relaxed in a way that wasn’t relaxed at all.
Char stood beside him, angled just slightly away, like she was already bored of the entire thing. Glass in hand, expression untouched by anything happening around her. Detached. Amused. Useful to him in ways that had nothing to do with loyalty.
I didn’t move toward them. Instead, I tracked Bea.
Not hovering. Not obvious. Just aware.
She moved clean through the room—engaging, redirecting, exiting conversations before they had the chance to overstay their usefulness. No wasted motion. No excess.
Until—her head turned.
Sharp. Her body followed a half second later—shoulders tightening, attention locking onto something off to the side. The glass she’d been reaching for forgotten before her fingers touched it.
I didn’t hear it. Whatever it was. But I saw the impact. She pivoted without hesitation. Straight toward Rawlings.
My focus narrowed. I moved. Just… closing distance.
By the time I got halfway there, she was already in front of them.
Rawlings angled toward her like he’d been expecting it—like this had been the point all along.
“—if you’re smart,” he was saying, voice low, controlled, certain, “you’ll start thinking about where you land when this inevitably falls apart.”
Bea didn’t step back. Her chin lifted a fraction. “I’m not in the habit of planning for outcomes you’ve already decided for me.”
Char laughed. Soft. Sharp. Wrong.
“Confidence,” she murmured, not even looking at Bea. “Gotta hand it to the kid. She’s got spunk”
Rawlings smiled. “You’re protected right now,” he hissed. “That’s the only reason you’re standing here having this conversation.” His gaze dragged over her—evaluating, dismissive. “Ezra has his reasons. We’ll see how he feels once Alois fucks up yet again with his little princess in tow.”
Bea didn’t move.
“Excuse me?” Bea’s eyes narrowed, lips pursed.
He didn’t hesitate. A hand landed firmly on Bea’s shoulder before he hissed, “That’s when I clean house.”
The space shifted before anyone acknowledged it—my body cutting clean between them, forcing distance where there hadn’t been any. Bea disappeared from Rawlings’s line of sight as I tucked her safely behind my back.
My hand came up—controlled, deliberate—closing over his shoulder like it belonged there. Not aggressive. Not for show. My thumb pressed in at the hinge of his jaw.
Precise.
He felt it.