Leo bathed her slowly and carefully, washing the sweat from her skin, the exhaustion from her muscles. He massaged her shoulders, her arms, her legs. He shampooed her hair, working the tangles out with his fingers. She drifted in and out of sleep, murmuring soft sounds of contentment.

When he finished, he wrapped her in a towel and carried her back to the bedroom. He found her favorite night suit in the drawer, soft and fluffy and pale pink, with little bunny ears on the hood. He dressed her gently, pulling the fabric over her head, guiding her arms through the sleeves. She was limp and pliant, like a doll.

He tucked her into bed, pulling the blanket up to her chin.

"Stay," she mumbled, grabbing his hand.

"I’m not going anywhere."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

He climbed into bed beside her, and she immediately curled into him, her face pressed against his chest, her hand fisted in his shirt. His heart was so full it felt like a dream. He kissed the top of her head and closed his eyes.

"Goodnight, Bunny."

"Mm," she replied, already asleep.

He looked at her for a long time, sleeping peacefully, her face soft, her lips slightly parted, the little bunny ears on her night suit hood flopping to the side. His heart swelled, then his eyes darkened.

He thought about his people at the university. He had planted many of them, some as students, some as staff, some blending so seamlessly into the background that no one ever noticed. They watched, they listened, they reported back to him.

Annie was one of them. Sweet, shy Annie, who worked in the admin office and helped students with registrations. Annie, who had befriended Bella without Bella ever knowing her true purpose. Annie, who had told Leo everything. The registered dance performance, Krystal’s scheme, the way she had tried to set Bella up to fail on stage in front of the entire university.

His jaw tightened. He wanted to shoot Krystal with his favorite gun, the one he had designed himself, sleek and deadly, the one that fit perfectly in his palm. He wanted to see the fear in her eyes, watch her crumble.

But he held back. Bella wouldn’t want that, not because she was soft, but because she had her own plans, her own way of handling things. He had learned to trust her instincts. She surprised him every time. In the basement, when she had faced down dangerous men with nothing but words. In the investigation, when she had tracked the stalker across the city using nothing but security footage and her own mind. In the way she had stolen the stalker’s credit card mid-fight, thinking clearly while under attack.

She was unpredictable, fierce, and brilliant. And he couldn’t wait to see what she would do next.

His eyes drifted back to her sleeping face.

"Show me, Bunny," he whispered. "Show me what you’ve got."

She stirred slightly, mumbling something in her sleep, and curled closer to him. He smiled and pulled her into his arms. He was anticipating, and he was patient.

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

Next day

Hazel’s penthouse

The afternoon light streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting warm gold across the sleek furniture. Hazel sat on the couch, her legs crossed, her jaw tight. The scar on her cheek was healing visibly. The swelling had gone down, the redness was fading, and the new skin was smoothing out. She looked better than she had in years.

But her expression was anything but peaceful. 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝒆𝔀𝒆𝙗𝓷𝒐𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝓶

"I don’t know what he was trying to do," she said, her voice sharp. "Nicholas is trying to block you in the industry? And you didn’t tell me?"

Dominique sat across from her, slumped in an armchair, looking like a chastised puppy. His dark hair was messy, his designer hoodie wrinkled, and he was picking at a loose thread on his sleeve.

"I didn’t want to worry you," he mumbled.

Hazel’s voice rose. "Didn’t want to worry me? Dom, you’ve been taking care of me every single day. You’ve been at the hospital, at my parents’ house, here. You’ve been bringing me soup and flowers and stupid jokes—"

Dominique interrupted softly. "They’re not stupid."

Hazel continued, ignoring him. "And all this time, Nicholas has been trying to destroy your career? While you were spoon-feeding me broth?"

Dominique shrugged, a small smile tugging at his lips. "The broth was important."

Hazel wanted to throw a pillow at him. She had been wondering why Dom had told her about so many interesting projects he was about to resume, only to never mention them again. She had assumed he was just being scatterbrained, or busy, or distracted by her recovery. But now she knew. He was being blacklisted, frozen out, sidelined, and he hadn’t said a word.

Her heart ached for him.

Dominique finally looked up, his dark eyes steady and calm. "Don’t worry. I’ll handle it. But I have a bad feeling about him. Like he’s about to do something bigger. Something worse."

Hazel nodded slowly. "What do you think?"

"I don’t know yet. But I’m watching."

The room fell silent.

Then Dom’s face shifted. His eyes lit up, his lips curving into a grin. "Let’s not talk about that brainless guy," he said, waving his hand dismissively. "Do you know Jason sent us tickets for his races? He wants to invite everyone."

Hazel raised an eyebrow. "That’s nice of him."

"Nice? He sent me thirty tickets!"

Hazel blinked. "Thirty?"

"Thirty!" Dom threw his hands up. "There aren’t even thirty people in our friend group. I don’t have thirty friends. I have like eight. Maybe ten if you count people I tolerate."

Hazel’s lips twitched. "You could invite strangers."

"I’m not inviting strangers to Jason’s race. What if they’re weird? What if they’re serial killers? What if they talk during the race?"

Hazel pointed out, "Players can’t hear the audience."

"The vibes, Hazel," Dom insisted. "They can feel the vibes."

She laughed at this, and Dom grinned, pleased with himself.

"Do you know how tickets work in racing?" he continued, warming to his rant. "Players only get five for free. Just five. After that, you have to buy them yourself. And they are hella expensive."

Hazel asked, "How expensive?"

Dom raised five fingers.

Hazel’s eyes widened. "That’s more than my first car."

"Exactly," Dom said, clutching a pillow to his chest. "Jason is going to go broke buying tickets for people who don’t exist. He’s going to show up at the race, look at the empty seats, and cry."

Hazel fell silent for a moment. Dom muttered to himself, "Thirty tickets. What am I supposed to do with thirty tickets?"

She was about to say something when Dom suddenly spoke up excitedly. "Maybe I’ll just sell the extras on the black market."

Hazel deadpanned, "You can’t sell race tickets on the black market."

"Watch me."

She shook her head, but she was smiling.