The wheels of the jet touched down with a soft thud, the hum of the engines shifting as the plane slowed across the runway. Rose's breath hitched as she looked out the oval window. Manhattan. The skyline she once thought she'd never see again shimmered in the distance, all glass, steel, and restless energy. Her heart thrummed so fast it nearly drowned out the captain's voice announcing their arrival.
She hadn't realized how much she'd missed it until now—the chaos, the noise, the sheer audacity of the city that never slept. Miami had been healing, yes, but it was never home. Manhattan was. And now she was back.
The door of the jet opened with a hiss, and the stairs were rolled up. Nikolai stood first, straightening the dark coat he wore against the chill that rushed inside. He cast her one of his quiet looks—half warning, half support—before stepping down the stairs. Alexei followed, his ever-present shadow.
Rose gripped the railing tightly as she rose from her seat, testing her legs. She wasn't fully healed yet; every step still carried echoes of weakness. But she could walk. That fact alone filled her with so much pride she nearly laughed. She took the first step down the staircase, feeling the wind whip through her hair, and the crisp Manhattan air kissed her face.
At the bottom of the steps, a sleek black SUV waited, polished so thoroughly the jet lights gleamed off its surface. A driver stood ready, head bowed. Nikolai, of course, had orchestrated everything to perfection.
Rose descended slowly, step by step, and when her feet finally touched the ground, she let out a shaky laugh. "Back on solid land," she whispered, more to herself than anyone else.
Nikolai's hand briefly touched the small of her back, guiding her toward the car. The contact was brief, fleeting, but grounding. She slid into the back seat, Alexei taking the other side, Nikolai beside her. The door shut with a heavy thud, cocooning them from the wind.
As the car pulled away from the runway, Manhattan unfolded outside the tinted windows, its lights glittering like a thousand restless stars. Rose pressed her forehead to the glass, watching taxis streak by, neon signs flash in bursts of color, steam rising from subway grates.
A smile stretched across her face before she even realized it. "God, I missed this place."
Nikolai glanced at her, lips twitching almost imperceptibly. "Glad you're… happy."
She chuckled, shaking her head. "Don't hurt yourself trying to sound sentimental."
His eyes narrowed, but there was no true bite in them.
The ride was short, though to Rose it felt like a lifetime. Every corner they turned, her anticipation grew. She hadn't been back to the penthouse since… before. Since the chaos of the carnival, since the darkness that swallowed her. Returning now felt like reclaiming something stolen.
When the SUV finally pulled up outside the towering skyscraper, Rose's pulse spiked. She stepped out slowly, eyes trailing upward at the sheer glass structure that stabbed the sky.
Inside the lobby, the familiar hush of wealth greeted them—marble floors gleaming, golden lights casting a warm glow, staff offering polite nods. The elevator ride up stretched in tense silence, the soft hum of its ascent pressing against her ears.
When the doors slid open on the top floor, Rose expected quiet. The penthouse was usually cloaked in sleek stillness, a place Nikolai guarded like his own private fortress. But tonight—tonight was different.
The moment she stepped inside, a deafening cheer erupted.
"ROSE!"
She froze in the doorway, eyes widening. The living room—usually cold and minimalist—was transformed. Balloons and streamers hung across the walls. A banner stretched across the ceiling: Welcome Back, Red! Glittering lights cast the space in a festive glow. And there, in the middle of it all, stood Alejandro, grinning from ear to ear, flanked by his partners-in-crime, Kile and Matt.
Her heart nearly stopped.
"Alejandro?" she whispered.
In two seconds flat, he was across the room, pulling her into a bear hug so tight she squealed. Kile and Matt joined in, their arms wrapping around her until she thought her ribs would crack.
"Air—air, guys!" she gasped, laughing breathlessly.
"You have no idea how much we missed you," Kile blurted, his voice breaking as tears welled in his eyes. He sniffled loudly, clinging to her like a child. "We thought we lost you, Rose. We were so scared."
She blinked rapidly, her throat tightening. Kile had always been the emotional one, but hearing the raw fear in his voice tugged at something deep in her chest.
Matt ruffled her hair, grinning. "Yeah, don't you ever pull that disappearing act again, alright? Nearly gave us a collective heart attack."
Rose let out a watery laugh, overwhelmed, her gaze darting around the decorated penthouse. "Wait… did Nikolai let you do this?"
Alejandro, still holding her by the shoulders, shrugged with mock innocence. "We don't need permission from that bastard to make you happy."
Behind them, Nikolai cleared his throat. The sound was sharp, warning, enough to make even Matt wince. But Alejandro? He just rolled his eyes dramatically.
"Relax, Nik. You're not the star tonight."
Rose's laughter burst out before she could stop it. The tension, the decorations, the sheer absurdity of it all—it was perfect.
It wasn't a grand party, not by Manhattan standards. Just them—Alejandro, his ridiculous friends, Nikolai, Alexei. But it was enough. More than enough. The air buzzed with warmth, relief, and laughter.
---
Hours passed in a blur.
Music played low from the speakers. Alejandro and his crew raided Nikolai's expensive liquor cabinet, much to his obvious irritation. Rose was passed from hug to hug, every person clinging to her like they were afraid she'd vanish if they let go. Kile cried again—twice—while Matt teased him mercilessly.
"You're the one who looks like you've been chopping onions," Kile retorted, sniffling.
"I don't cry," Matt shot back.
"You're crying inside!"
Rose doubled over laughing, her stomach aching, the sound foreign but freeing.
At one point, Alejandro draped an arm around her shoulders, his grin wide. "See? Told you Manhattan missed you."
Rose smiled, cheeks flushed from both the wine and the warmth of their presence. For the first time in what felt like forever, she felt like herself again. Not the girl trapped, not the girl broken, not the girl in pain—just Rose.
---
Of course, Nikolai didn't share the same enthusiasm.
He stood near the bar, arms crossed, his eyes sharp as ever, watching the chaos unfold with that permanent frown of his. Every time Alejandro poured another drink, Nikolai's jaw tightened. When Kile suggested a toast with shots, Nikolai muttered under his breath about "degenerates."
Rose caught him glaring at the half-empty bottles. She smirked. "What? Afraid your expensive vodka's going to run out?"
His gaze slid to her, unimpressed. "No one here needs to drink this much."
She leaned closer, whispering, "You're just jealous you don't know how to have fun."
The corner of his mouth twitched. Barely.
---
By midnight, the penthouse was alive with laughter, clinking glasses, and the smell of spilled liquor. Alejandro and Matt were in the middle of an impromptu dance battle, while Kile wiped his eyes for the fifth time, insisting he was "fine, really."
And Rose—Rose was drunk. Gloriously, ridiculously drunk.
Her hair was a fiery halo around her face, her cheeks flushed crimson, her eyes hazy. She giggled at everything—at Matt tripping over the rug, at Alejandro trying to serenade her with a slurred ballad.
When she nearly toppled over while reaching for another glass, Nikolai's arm shot out, catching her.
"Enough," he said firmly, his patience thinning.
"But I'm happy," she whined, giggling, clutching at his shirt. "You can't take happiness away from me, Nikky."
He closed his eyes briefly, exhaling through his nose. Nikky. God help him.
Alejandro and his friends groaned when Nikolai announced it was time to end the night.
"You're no fun," Alejandro muttered, but he still herded Kile and Matt toward the door.
"Out," Nikolai said sharply. "None of you are sleeping here."
"Bastard," Alejandro muttered under his breath, though his grin betrayed him.
When the door finally shut behind them, silence settled over the penthouse once more. A silence broken only by Rose's drunken giggles as she clung to Nikolai's arm.
He sighed, glancing down at the redhead swaying unsteadily beside him.
"How hard could it be?" he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.
But judging by the mischievous sparkle in her hazy green eyes, he already knew the answer: harder than he ever imagined.