After their breathing slowed, Noah carefully eased back just enough to look at Vivian directly, his fingers still softly tangled in her hair. He studied her face closely, his voice gentle but edged with quiet intensity.

  “Viv, earlier…when you were upset,” he began cautiously, thumb brushing slowly over her cheek, “was it something I did?”

  Vivian tensed slightly, eyes flickering away. She opened her mouth, then shut it quickly. Words caught painfully in her throat. She fixed her gaze downward, voice barely audible. “No—I mean, it’s not exactly something you did. It’s just—” Her voice faltered, visibly shaken.

  Noah’s jaw tightened slightly, concern mixed with sharp frustration. He cupped her face firmly, tilting her head up. “Viv, tell me.”

  It wasn’t a question.

  Vivian drew a shaky breath, voice hesitant. “Everyone is gone now. Everyone but you,” she paused, unsure if she wanted to tell him that without them, the tight hold she had over herself was falling apart.

  She decided against it, and chose the partial truth, her other fear. “When Isaac said you had a type, I remembered Mochi.” Her voice was soft. “I remembered that night at the motel —after Vince — how you just closed the door,” Her voice dipped lower, trembling because it wasn’t a lie. Just not the whole truth.

  “Noah, if you lose interest with me like with her—” she faltered, barely audible. She couldn’t finish the sentence.

  Noah’s irritation surged sharply. Unexpected, fierce. His jaw clenched. The idea of Vivian comparing herself to Mochi felt insulting. Wrong.

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  “Viv,” his voice low, harder than intended. “Mochi was never you.” He paused sharply, eyes cold, dismissive. “She was a shitty imitation —of someone I used to know, a trashy copy. Don’t even compare yourself to someone like that.”

  Vivian’s eyes widened slightly, confusion and hurt flickering. Her voice came out uncertain. “But…what if someone else comes along who’s more like the person you knew? Wouldn’t they replace me too?”

  Noah shook his head slowly, frustration clear in his tense shoulders. His touch softened slightly. His eyes darkened, a desperate need to make her understand rising in his chest. He leaned closer, voice lowered, intense. “Vivian, you’re not listening. There is no replacement.”

  His arms tightened around her. “The way you swung that hammer at Silver Key, the way you grabbed the knife at the motel with Mochi—” his mouth curled with disgust at the name, but he continued, “the way you see through all my plans but you come with me anyway.”

  He inhaled sharply, voice nearly reverent. “Oh Viv,” he breathed, leaning into her hair. “Viv, you have no idea what you do to me. None of them—none of them even come close. Nothing ever will.”

  Vivian looked up at him, confusion mixing with something else in her eyes. Something stirring, hidden deep within her. The side she carefully masked.

  Gentle hands, Vivian.

  But he saw the other side —yearned for it. That realization shifted something in her, something she didn’t fully understand, but it was something she itched to grasp, to trap.

  Noah gently raised her hand to his lips, kissing her fingers reverently. “Viv, you don’t get it,” he breathed softly, his lips sending shivers down her spine. A low laugh escaped him, dark, amused. “Forget about worrying that I’ll replace you. Now that you’ve chosen me—I’ll never let you go.”

  Vivian stared at him, her breath halted. The dark promise, almost a threat, hung between them like a fog; thick, intoxicating.

  Did he know?

  Did he know what he was doing? What he was binding himself to?

  Vivian’s hand twitched, reaching for him.

  And then —

  His burner phone lit up, buzzing, the sound a harsh interruption, cutting the fog out completely.

  [Seb: ur in luck. Got what you want. Tonight at the club. Usual spot.]