The second he was gone, Bas turned to Evin, his hand still firm on her waist.
"You good?" His voice was quieter now, rougher.
Evin nodded, though her pulse was still hammering from the confrontation. "Yeah," she breathed, glancing up at him. "Thanks."
He huffed out a dry chuckle, but there was no humor in it. "For what? Not letting that idiot run his mouth?"
"Something like that," she muttered.
"‘Dust,’ huh?" she added, mimicking Dominic’s earlier words.
Bas’s fingers brushed along her chin, tilting her face up toward him. The second she met his ice-cold stare, her breath caught.
"A little dirt never killed anyone," he murmured.
And before she could fire back, he kissed her.
Not tentative. Not soft. It was the kind of kiss that left no room for doubt—claiming, deliberate.
For that moment, there was nothing else. Just him. Just her. Just the heat of his hands, the solid press of his body against hers, the unshakable certainty in the way he held her there.
__________
Sebastian
The night at the club was exactly what it was supposed to be—loud, reckless, and soaked in the kind of chaos that made everything else disappear. Bas leaned back against the booth, a drink in his hand, watching the way the night unfolded around him. The music pulsed through the air, the lights flashed in erratic patterns, and somewhere in the middle of it all, there was her.
She was laughing with Milka, her head tilted back, eyes shining in a way that made something tighten in his chest. She looked… free. Like, for once, the weight she carried wasn’t pressing down on her. He liked seeing her like this. He wanted to see her like this—without the darkness that crept into her gaze when she thought no one was looking.
But just as he was about to pull her back to him, his phone vibrated in hispocket.
A glance at the screen.
Cat.
His stomach twisted.
Shit.
His ex-something. Like so many others before her. A past he should’ve buried, but somehow, at this moment, it clawed its way back to the surface.
It had been weeks since he’d last seen her. Maybe even months. He hadn’t kept count, because there was nothing to count. Their thing—if you could even call it that—had always been simple. Convenient. Cat had been there when he needed her, and she knew exactly what it was. No promises. No illusions.
From the outside, it might have looked like more. Like she was his in some way. But that had never been the case.
And yeah, sometimes he had leaned into it. Sometimes, when Evin had been close enough to see, he’d let the lines blur. Let Cat linger a little longer, let his hands rest a little lower—just to watch the flicker of something sharp in Evin’s eyes. He had played the game, fed the tension between them. But it had never been about Cat.
It had always been about Evin.
He swiped the call away.
The screen lit up again.
With a quiet exhale, he pressed the phone to his ear.
"Bas?" Her voice slipped through the speaker, too soft, too damn familiar. "Are you there? I... I know you're probably not alone, but—"
His gaze flicked to Evin. She was still at the bar, completely unaware.
