Rain whispered like secrets across the rooftop of Vane Tower. The sky pulsed with slow flashes of lightning, peeling back layers of cloud like old wounds reopening. Henry Vane stood at the edge, cigarette balanced between two fingers, coat undone, the wind pressing against his chest like a silent dare.
Beneath him, the city flickered—neon signs bleeding red and blue into slick pavement. Somewhere, a siren cried. Somewhere else, laughter died.
But he wasn't listening.
He was watching.
Across the divide of buildings and alleys, beyond glass and distance, she stood: Hazel Snow.
Wrapped in a too-thin coat, her shadow spilled across the rooftop of her apartment like ink. She didn't know she was being watched. She didn't know she was already inside him, clawing through the cracks he didn't show the world.
She just stood there, alone, like she was waiting for something. Or someone.
Lightning lit her face in flashes—hair wet and unbrushed, eyes lifted to a sky that never gave back what it took. She looked beautiful. Broken. Real.
Henry exhaled slow smoke into the storm.
"She doesn't belong in that world," he murmured. "And neither do I."
Hazel moved through the early morning like a woman walking in two lives. The one she lived—coffee grounds, aching feet, Samuel's warm breath on her neck—and the one she dreamed: rooftops and strangers, and the weight of someone's gaze she couldn't shake.
Snowdrift Coffee opened in a hush. She wiped the counters, refilled the sugar jars, smiled for the early customers. But her hands were slow. Her thoughts elsewhere.
Last night—she'd seen someone on a rooftop. Or thought she had. A tall figure framed in thunderlight. Eyes she couldn't see, but somehow still felt.
She didn't tell Samuel. What would she say?
There's someone watching me, and I want him to.
She leaned against the back door, letting the rain spray her skin.
Far above, unseen again, Henry stood behind tinted glass, watching her laugh at something a customer said.
He touched the window like he could feel her.
And in the space between heartbeat and silence, something inevitable began.