Rhea didn't realize she was trembling until Lucien's hand found hers again—blood-warm, calloused, grounding.
But his gaze wasn't steady.
He was staring at her like he didn't recognize her.
"Rhea..." His voice was low, breathless. "What did you lose?"
Her lips parted.
She wanted to say nothing.
Wanted to say I'm fine.
But the words stuck in her throat.
Because something was missing.
And the way Lucien was looking at her—like he could feel it too—made her stomach twist with fear.
And something else.
He reached up, gently tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, his thumb brushing the hollow of her cheek.
"I felt it," he said. "The moment it happened. Like a piece of you went silent."
Butterflies exploded in her chest—soft and violent.
Not from danger.
But from the way he noticed.
The way he felt her change.
Like they were still tethered, even after everything.
"Kiss me," she whispered before the fear could return. "Remind me who I am."
Lucien's brows pulled together, as if he wasn't sure if she meant it.
But then he leaned in.
His breath was laced with adrenaline and longing.
And when his lips met hers—everything else disappeared.
The kiss was different this time.
Not desperate.
Not final.
It was a reclamation.
A silent scream to the system that she was still hers. Still his.
Still Rhea Lin.
When they broke apart, the silence between them wasn't empty—it pulsed like a heartbeat.
Lucien rested his forehead against hers.
"We'll get it back," he said, voice rough. "Whatever they stole. I swear to you."
But then—
BZZZT.
The hallway screen behind them flickered to life again.
Kairo.
His image sharp and too calm, like he'd been watching this entire time.
"You've opened the door, Rhea Lin," he said with a faint smile. "The system sees you now. And it won't stop until you belong to it."
Rhea turned slowly, her pulse crashing in her ears.
Her eyes—once soft—were now cold as shattered glass.
"Then tell your precious system this," she said quietly.
She raised her wrist console—sparks still dancing across it like static lightning.
"I'm not finished breaking your rules."
[ To be continued....]