They stepped back into the apartment, and sure enough, Sandra was up—still barefoot but now wearing something slightly more presentable: a loose black tee and faded jeans that actually matched. Her hair was pulled back in a messy bun, and a faint trail of body spray replaced the usual trail of cigarette smoke.

  Lucenzo’s eyes lingered a little too long.

  Whack!

  Savannah smacked his arm.

  “Oi, if you’re staying, you better make sure that report paints me in a very good light.”

  He rubbed his shoulder, grinning. “Ow. Abuse. Noted.” Then he tilted his head. “You been watching the news at all? There’s been some… interesting developments.”

  Savannah let out a sigh and dropped the bag onto the counter. “No. I’ve been taking a break. I’m tired. Trying to relax.” Her eyes shifted between her smirking mother and Lucenzo. “If either of you care.”

  Sandra raised her hands innocently, before leaving to her room.

  Lucenzo smirked, watching her walk over to place the drinks in the fridge. “Hey, I know you’re glad I checked in.”

  Savannah rolled her eyes. “I’d rather Anaya came.”

  Lucenzo snorted at that. “You say that like you don’t argue with her more than you do with me.”

  After a few rounds of playful but exhausting bickering, Savannah finally said, “Come on, help me put the living room back.”

  Lucenzo blinked. “Why? It’s fine.”

  “It’s not,” she said flatly, already dragging a pillow off the couch.

  He helped by following her lead, slowly rearranging the pillows, refolding her blanket, adjusting her folded-up mattress pad, and placing things back where they belonged.

  Midway through, Lucenzo asked, “So why do you sleep out here anyway?”

  Savannah didn’t hesitate. “Because Sandra doesn’t see the point in paying for a two-bedroom when one will do.”

  He blinked.

  “Before I was a Veythari, I lived with my dad. After he died, I moved in with her. But I was barely ever around. Missions, training, cycles. So one bed was fine for her.”

  He glanced at her, surprised. “Didn’t think you’d be so honest.”

  She shrugged. “It’s public knowledge.”

  Lucenzo gave a half-smile. “Still. You don’t talk like this often.”

  She didn’t respond.

  Instead, she flopped onto the now-cleared couch, grabbing another lollipop and unwrapping it with lazy fingers.

  Lucenzo looked toward Sandra’s room, then back. “So… what does your mom do for work?”

  Savannah laughed without humor. “Sandra? She doesn’t work.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “At all?”

  She glanced at him, then looked away.

  He wanted to ask more. He really did.

  But something in her tone told him to let it go—for now.

  The living room finally back to its normal, functional chaos, the two of them sat down on the couch.

  Savannah made a point to sit on the opposite end—legs tucked under her, expression unreadable.

  Lucenzo didn’t say anything. He just sat back, watching the lights of the city flicker against the apartment walls.

  The awkward tension that had settled between Savannah and Lucenzo was thankfully shattered when Sandra reappeared, now in full host mode.

  She waltzed into the living room, eyes glinting with mischief and a knowing grin pulling at her lips. She gave them both a once-over before heading toward the door, heels clicking softly against the hardwood.

  Just as her hand touched the knob—knock knock.

  Savannah squinted at the TV clock. 6:30 PM.

  “You said eight,” she called out, eyebrow twitching.

  Sandra tossed a sultry smile over her shoulder. “I told him to come back around eight. But you didn’t chase Lucenzo away, so hey—we’re just starting on time.”

  Lucenzo smiled without shame, lounging deeper into the couch like he owned it.

  The door opened, and like a switch had been flipped, Sandra’s energy shifted—from teasing mother to full-on seductress-hostess mode.

  “Well hello, boys,” she purred, stepping aside as Tony and four of his friends filtered in. She leaned lightly against the doorframe, eyes fluttering with just the right amount of dangerous charm.

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  “Damn, bro!” one of the guys whispered loud enough for the room to hear. “I see you, Tony!”

  Another nudged him with a grin. “You sure she older than us?”

  Sandra just winked.

  Savannah, rolling her eyes so hard it hurt, sank further into the couch while Lucenzo sat up straighter, curious.

  Tony, confident in that I-pulled-a-milf kind of way, nodded toward Savannah and Lucenzo. “Hey, that’s my girl’s daughter. And this is…?”

  “Lucenzo,” he said smoothly, standing up and extending a hand.

  “Tony,” the younger man replied with a grin. “You from here?”

  “Nah, just an old friend of Savannah,” Lucenzo said with a wink. “But I see you're a man of good taste .”

  They all laughed—a little too easily. Lucenzo slid right into the rhythm of the room. Within minutes, he was talking sports with two of the guys, making wild predictions about upcoming games, and tossing in enough mafia-style commentary to get genuine laughs.

  Savannah, meanwhile, hovered in the background—bitter, snappy when people got too loud, occasionally muttering under her breath. But even her jabs got some laughs.

  Then the drinks came out. And the weed. Savannah wasn’t legal age for either. But this apartment didn’t care. It never had. She’d had her first beer at ten, first smoke at fourteen. Not that she was proud of it—but here, that was just… normal.

  They synced games from their phones to the TV—party apps, dumb trivia, word games. Board games followed, sprawled across the floor with snacks and open bottles nearby. At some point, Sandra started playing DJ and the apartment pulsed with bass and laughter.

  She was, as always, the center of attention, even when she wasn’t trying to be. Flirting, joking, spinning little stories that made everyone lean in.

  Even when Sandra argued with Savannah over what counts as “real food” or how she never learned to fold towels properly—it made the room laugh. And somewhere between round three of cards and a very chaotic round of charades, Savannah felt it:

  She let go. Just a little. She laughed when Lucenzo made a joke too stupid to ignore. She smoked, drank, even got competitive during the games. The apartment was thick with cigarette haze and the skunky sweet scent of joints.

  The lights were low, the windows cracked, the city humming in the background. It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t clean. But for the first time in a long time—It felt like something close to good.

  The city buzzed below her like a distant echo—neon signs flickering, honking cars, and muted laughter from streets that never really slept. Savannah stood outside on the deck, her ponytail dancing with the wind as she sucked quietly on a lollipop.

  She preferred this to smoking.

  The sweet, slow burn of sugar calmed her nerves better than nicotine ever did.

  She exhaled, letting the wind snake around her, and then—gently, subtly—manifested it.

  A small twist of air curled around her arm. Another burst spun near her shoulder.

  It felt good.

  Like stretching muscles she hadn’t realized were tight. Her power wasn’t just returning—it was responding.

  “Hey, Bella,” came a familiar voice behind her. The sliding door creaked open. “This where you wandered off to?”

  Savannah didn’t turn. She just snorted. “It’s not hard to figure out in a one-bedroom.”

  Lucenzo chuckled, walking out with a slight stumble—just enough to suggest he was maybe a little cross-faded.

  Then—

  FWOOOSH!

  A sharp gust of wind knocked his arm up, making him stumble back a step.

  “Woah—!” he said, blinking.

  Savannah grinned, lips around the lollipop. “My powers are coming back faster than I expected.”

  Lucenzo rubbed his arm, half-laughing. “Noted. Wind’s back and it’s petty.”

  She popped the candy from her mouth with a smirk. “That was also because you called me Bella.”

  “It’s a cute nickname.”

  “It was a joke,” she said, looking over her shoulder. “You just never let it go.”

  Lucenzo leaned against the railing, eyes on the skyline. “Well… I can’t let you go.”

  She sighed, dragging her hand across her face. “It was a few dates, Lucenzo. We’re better off friends.”

  “You say that,” he murmured, “like you found someone better than me.”

  She looked at him then—really looked.

  And said, “Because I did.”

  His face faltered. Not angry. Just surprised. Maybe hurt.

  Definitely faded.

  He looked down at his shoes, then back at her.

  “Damn…”

  “Look,” she said gently, “you’re a decent guy. Somewhat. But I’m just not into you like that.”

  He was quiet for a moment.

  Then: “So… this guy. Who is he?”

  Her gaze drifted back toward the city.

  “Doesn’t matter,” she said, voice soft. “He died. Red Hollow Park.”

  Lucenzo nodded slowly, digesting that.

  And then—

  A smile tugged at his lips.

  “Oi, fuck you,” she said, catching it immediately.

  He held up his hands. “I didn’t mean to smile!”

  “Yeah, you did. It’s your trait. Always flaring. That’s another reason, Lucenzo. You’re a walking pressure system. You tried to run my life when we were—” she did the air quotes, “—‘dating’.”

  “Can’t help what I am.”

  They stood in silence for a beat, the wind whispering around them.

  “Or,” Lucenzo continued, “maybe you’re just scared of commitment.”

  Savannah scoffed, pulling the lollipop from her mouth. “If you think that, then you really don’t know me.”

  He shrugged. “Well, maybe you don’t fully know me either.”

  She turned to face him.

  “I know you snore. I know you over-season your pasta. I know you can’t sleep without socks. I know you flirt with everything that breathes, and sometimes even things that don’t. I know you like cheap wine but pretend to have expensive taste. I know you keep three fake IDs in your coat pocket.”

  Lucenzo blinked.

  She stepped closer, just a little. “And I know you’re hiding something.”

  Lucenzo’s grin faded completely now. He turned his gaze toward the city, letting the lights blur in his vision. Usually, he was good at these kinds of things—smooth, clever, always with a smirk ready to defuse tension. But tonight?

  Cross-faded and cracked open?

  His facade wasn’t holding like it normally did.

  She’d seen through him. He knew that. And it shouldn’t have mattered—Savannah never called him out on it. She usually let things sit in silence like unopened mail.

  So when she did… It shook him more than he expected. They’d been teammates for four years. Dated for a messy few months.

  But this?

  This was the first time he’d seen her home. Her mother. Her life outside of uniforms and missions. He’d seen everyone else’s space—drank in their kitchens, crashed on their couches after ops. But never hers.

  And now he knew why. Which made his reason for being here even worse.

  “Oi,” her voice came, sharp and cutting through the quiet. “Cat got your tongue?”

  He frowned. Not the usual sarcastic kind. Not the teasing lopsided smirk.

  Just a genuine frown.

  He looked up at the moon, the cool silver light outlining the tension in his jaw.

  Savannah’s chest tightened.

  Why wasn’t he being himself?

  Why wasn’t he laughing this off, throwing in a bad pun, calling her Bella just to get hit again?

  Something was really wrong.

  Lucenzo turned his head and looked at her. Really looked.

  And then he spoke.

  The real reason he came. And it wasn’t to “check in.”

  Savannah’s expression shifted instantly.

  Shock.

  Then horror.

  Then disgust—fierce, acidic.

  Then—

  Unadulterated rage.

  The wind screamed around them, whipping her red ponytail into the air like a flame.

  The glass door behind her cracked, spiderwebbing beneath the pressure of her flaring aura.

  Lucenzo instinctively raised a hand in front of his face as her wind crashed around him in pulses.

  “Sava—”

  “Don’t.” Her voice was low. Lethal. Tethered to something barely holding.

  “You came here… for that? And waited this long to say anything!?”

  The wind howled louder. A patio chair lifted slightly off the deck and slammed into the wall.

  Lucenzo didn’t answer at first.

  “You said you wanted a bit of the norm…. So I was trying—“ A wind strike knocked his head back.

  He had no intention to defend himself. He knew he deserved every ounce of her fury.