Chapter 21
Aurelia
FLASHBACK
Six years ago
The boy’s hand hovers in the air between us, steady, patient. Not pushy like the guys inside the club, not careless like Elijah, not fake-sweet like the idiots who kept asking me to dance. He doesn’t look away from me, and for some reason, that unsettles me more than anything.
I hesitate before I slide my hand into his. His palm is warm, dry, not clammy like I expect from a stranger smoking outside a club. His grip is firm, but not crushing, already knowing exactly how much strength to use.
“Aurelia,” I say, surprising myself with how relaxed my voice sounds.
No, Ace. You’re supposed to say Ace.
Somehow it feels like he wouldn’t buy it anyway. Like he’d see right through the nickname, straight to the truth.
His head tilts slightly, “Aurelia,” he repeats, the syllables rolling low and rough in his Russian accent. My name has never sounded like that before—like something intense, like something so tempting.
I swallow hard, shifting on my feet. “It’s my birthday,” I blurt, because apparently my brain doesn’t know when to shut up. “Sixteen.”
His lips twitch. He looks forward first, like he’s not sure he cares, then back at me. “Happy birthday.”
“Thank you,” I reply, and suddenly the tears are gone.
His voice, the way it grounds me—it steals the loneliness right out of my chest.
“Why were you crying?”
I bite my lip, glancing at the ground. “I was just…” I consider if I should lie, but then I remember that I will never see this boy—man, shit, I don’t even know how old he is—again. So I finish, “I wanted to have my first kiss tonight, but the guy I have feelings for was kissing my friend instead.”
He doesn’t say anything but takes three steps closer to me, forcing my back against the wall of Confine.
At the touch of stone, I look around, feeling more aware of my vulnerability. “I’m fine,” I say quickly, trying to laugh it off. “I just needed to accept that I’m alone.”
His eyes flicker with something I can’t name. “Do you think you’re hallucinating me or something?” His voice teasing. “You’re obviously not alone, Aurelia. And I know I’m good-looking, but I didn’t think it was enough to cause a mental break.”
A startled laugh bursts out of me before I can stop it. I swat his arm, immediately realizing I don’t know him well enough for that. “You’re a stranger,” I warn. “An overly confident one.”
This time his laugh surprises me—it’s not cruel, but deep and playful, confirming he’s still just a boy under all that danger in his eyes. For a second, I forget the smoke, the shadows, the weight in his stare. For a second, he feels almost… normal.
He flicks the last of his cigarette to the ground, crushing it under his boot. Then he jerks his chin toward the curb. Parked there, gleaming even in the dim alley light, is a sleek, all-black motorcycle. The kind of bike you only see in movies. The kind that screams freedom and risk.
“I can get you back here before anyone notices,” he says, hushed but sure, it’s already decided.
And the way he’s looking at me—like I’m something rare, something worth studying—makes my breath catch in my throat.
Admiration. Not the fleeting attention Elijah tosses my way. This is different. Steadier.
“I want to show you what life can offer,” he says, each word deliberate. “Someone like you, with beauty like this… you shouldn’t waste it.”
My warning bells scream. I don’t even know this boy. Stranger, foreigner, Russian. All of it should stop me. But when he extends his hand, palm open, waiting—
I take it.
Not because I should. Not because it’s smart. But because something in me trusts him. And I don’t know why.