By the time I pulled into the underground parking of my building, the rain had grown heavier, drumming above like a war cry pounding against my chest.
I turned the ignition off. Silence fell. Except it wasn't silent. I could still hear the pounding in my ears—the ache in my ribs—the weight of everything I wasn't supposed to feel for the boy passed out beside me.
My hand hovered near his cheek, trembling just a little, and I brushed the tiniest damp strand of hair from his forehead. Burning up. Too hot.
"Lucian…" I whispered, voice fragile, almost breaking. "You're burning."
Reaching back, I grabbed the umbrella I'd tossed into the seat behind me earlier. The moment I opened the car door, cold air hit me like a slap of reality, reminding me who I was—and what I wasn't allowed to do. But I didn't care. Not now.
I swung the passenger door open and crouched down beside him. "Lucian," I murmured softly, the words slipping out before I could stop them. "We're here. You need to get up now."
No response. Nothing but his shallow breath.
I cupped his cheek with trembling fingers. "Hey. Lucian. Come on."
Still nothing.
My chest tightened. Okay. Okay, fine.
With a soft groan, I slid an arm under his legs, the other wrapped gently around his back, and lifted him up.
He wasn't heavy. Or maybe I just didn't care anymore.
He slumped against my chest like he belonged there, like he'd been waiting for me all along. And in that moment—standing there in the storm, the rain pouring down around us like a secret symphony—I didn't care if the whole damn world saw.
I held the umbrella over us with one hand, keeping him pressed close with the other. His body was hot—burning hot—and still… his face was soft. Unaware. Vulnerable in a way that made my heart ache like a wound that wouldn't heal.
Every step I took echoed through the parking garage. The soft thud of my sneakers against the wet concrete. The rustle of fabric as I carried him, his head resting lightly on my shoulder, breathing uneven and shallow.
The elevator ride up was silent except for the faint hiss of air and the occasional shift of Lucian's head against me. I didn't realize I'd been holding my breath until the doors slid open.
Home.
My apartment.
Our next mistake waiting quietly behind the door.