Our room? Alicia blinked, her heart stuttering in its rhythm.
The words echoed in her head, soft yet startling. Ours. Not mine. Not yours. Ours.
A flush crept up her neck, blooming beneath her skin like the first hint of dawn. She looked at his outstretched hand, still waiting—steady, sure, patient in a way that made her chest ache.
"Don't give me that look, Elfie," Adrien said, voice low and rough with something unnameable. "I'm dead serious."
His gaze deepened—molten and unreadable—the kind of look that made breathing feel optional. The corner of his mouth curled with a dangerous charm, like he already knew the chaos he was leading her into.
Before she could think, before her pulse could settle, he slipped his hand into hers.
Not waiting. And without another word, he walked—taking her with him.
