1. Rowan
People think they understand men like me.
They see the stage, the lights, the way bodies move under heat and music, and they think that's all there is. Something simple. Something easy.
It's not.
Nothing about this is easy.
The bass thrums through the floor beneath my feet, steady and demanding, syncing with my pulse until I can't tell where one ends and the other begins.
The club is packed tonight
too many bodies,
too much perfume,
too many eyes watching like they're starving for something they can't name.
I step into the light anyway.
Because that's what I'm paid for.
Because this is what keeps the electricity on.
Because Luna needs to eat.
The spotlight hits, warm against my skin, and just like that... I'm not Rowan anymore.
Up here, I'm something else.
Untouchable.
Unreachable.
An illusion.
The omega sitting closest to the stage watches me like I'm the only thing in his world. Wide eyes. Slightly parted lips. He doesn't look away, even when I move closer, even when I let the moment stretch just long enough to make him wonder if I'm going to close the distance completely.
I don't.
I never do.
Instead, I hover just within reach, close enough for heat, for tension, for that sharp inhale I've learned to expect. It's control. Every second of it. Every shift of my body, every glance, every almost-touch.
That's what they're paying for.
Not me.
The idea of me.
The music slows, deepens, and I follow it instinctively. Years of practice have carved this into me, how to move, how to hold attention, how to make people feel like they matter for just a few minutes.
The omega leans forward slightly, like he might say something.
I don't give him the chance.
I turn away before he can.
Because that's the other rule.
Don't let it become real.
Backstage smells different.
Less like desire, more like sweat and exhaustion.
I grab my shirt, dragging it over my head as the noise from the main floor dulls into something distant.
The mirror in front of me reflects someone I barely recognize; someone sharper, harder than I remember becoming.
"Another fan ready to fall in love?" Kai leans against the wall, smirking.
I don't look at him. "They don't fall in love."
"They think they do."
"Same difference."
He laughs under his breath. "You're cold, man."
Maybe.
Or maybe I just don't have time to be anything else.
I grab my bag, already heading for the door.
"Hey," Kai calls after me, "you racing tonight?"
I pause for half a second. "Yeah."
"Try not to die."
"No promises."
The air outside is cooler, quieter.
Real.
I breathe it in like I've been underwater too long.
By the time I get home, the city has settled into that strange, fragile silence that only exists after midnight. Streetlights flicker. Cars are fewer. The world feels... slower.
The apartment is exactly how I left it.
Small.
Clean.
Bare.
Safe.
That's what matters.
"Rowan?"
Luna's voice pulls me out of my thoughts.
I turn, finding her standing in the hallway, wrapped in one of my old hoodies. It swallows her whole, sleeves too long, hem brushing her knees.
"You should be asleep," I say.
"So should you."
I huff a quiet breath. "That's not how this works."
She steps closer, studying my face like she's trying to read something I'm not saying.
"You worked late again."
"I always work late."
"That's not what I meant."
I don't answer that.
Because she's not wrong.
Because she sees more than I want her to.
"I'm fine, Lu," I say instead, softer now.
She hesitates, then nods, although I can tell she doesn't believe me.
"Zayn came by," she says after a moment, a little too casually.
There it is.
I lean back against the wall, crossing my arms. "Did he."
"Yeah. He, um... dropped off some groceries."
Of course he did.
Zayn's been doing that lately. Showing up. Helping out. Finding excuses.
I don't miss the way her voice shifts when she says his name.
"You like him."
It's not a question.
She freezes.
"What? No."
"Luna."
She groans, dragging her hands over her face. "Okay, fine. Maybe a little. But it's not-he doesn't."
"He does."
Her eyes snap to mine. "You don't know that."
"I do."
Because I've seen it.
The way he looks at her when he thinks no one's paying attention. The way he lingers just a little too long. The way he tries to play it off like it's nothing.
It's not nothing.
"Rowan..." she starts, softer now.
I shake my head. "I'm not saying it's a bad thing."
"You're thinking it."
"I'm thinking you deserve someone who doesn't make things complicated."
Her expression tightens. "Zayn's not complicated."
I raise an eyebrow.
She sighs. "Okay, maybe a little. But so are you."
That almost makes me laugh.
"Just be careful," I say instead.
She studies me for a long moment, then nods. "I always am."
I want to believe that.
I really do.
The engine growls beneath me as I pull onto the street.
This is different.
This is mine.
The bike responds instantly, like it knows me, like it understands the need sitting just under my skin. Speed isn't just about adrenaline, it's about silence.
About shutting everything else out.
Money.
Responsibility.
Fear.
All of it disappears when I push faster.
The city blurs past me, lights stretching into streaks of gold and white. Wind cuts against my skin, sharp and clean, and for a few minutes...
I can breathe.
The race starts without ceremony.
It always does.
A glance. A shift. And then.
We're gone.
The world narrows to movement and instinct. Every turn calculated. Every second measured. There's no room for hesitation here.
Only control.
Only survival.
I'm ahead by the third turn.
Not by much.
But enough.
The others push harder, engines screaming as they try to close the gap. I lean into the next corner, tighter than I should, faster than is safe.
I don't slow down.
I never do.
My phone buzzes just as I cool off, adrenaline still buzzing through my veins.
I check the screen.
Kai.
I almost ignore it.
Almost.
I answer on the third ring. "What?"
"Rowan, I need a favor."
"No."
"Don't hang up."
"Then don't ask."
"It's important."
I sigh, dragging a hand through my hair. "What is it?"
"We're short-staffed tonight."
"Not my problem."
"It is if I get fired."
That makes me pause.
"...What kind of shift?"
There's a brief hesitation.
"Royal event."
I let out a dry laugh. "You're joking."
"I wish."
"No."
"Rowan."
"I said no."
"It's good money."
I go quiet.
Of course it is.
"Double," he adds quickly. "Maybe more. These people throw money around like it's nothing."
I close my eyes briefly, weighing it.
I hate everything about this.
But I need it.
"Fine," I mutter. "One night."
"Thank you," he breathes. "Seriously, you're saving me."
"Yeah, yeah."
I hang up before he can say anything else.
Royalty.
I shake my head, climbing back onto the bike.
People like Prince Caelum don't live in the same world I do. They don't know what it's like to scrape by, to take whatever job you can just to keep someone you love safe.
They're handed everything.
Power.
Money.
Choice.
Or at least, that's what it looks like from the outside.
Either way, I don't like them.
Don't trust them.
And I definitely don't want anything to do with them.
But money is money.
And I'll do whatever it takes to make sure Luna never has to stand under harsh lights, pretending to be something she's not.
Even if it means stepping into a palace full of people I already know I'm going to hate.
Even if it means getting closer to a world that was never meant for someone like me.
Because at the end of the day,
I don't have the luxury of choosing what I want.
Only what I need.