Alden
"Now," I say, "What says 'freedom' more than Cajun food at midnight? Because if we're going to pretend the world isn't falling apart, we might as well do it with a full stomach."
Layla laughs, the sound mingling with the music drifting from the bars and clubs. "You're impossible, you know that? Most people would be panicking right now, but you're worried about dinner."
"Impossible, but indispensable," I correct, leading her toward a small, unassuming restaurant with a sign that reads Maman's Kitchen. The scent of spices and simmering gumbo wafts out as we enter, the warmth enveloping us like a hug from a long-lost relative.
The restaurant is cozy, the walls adorned with vintage posters, and the tables crowded with locals and tourists alike. We're seated at a corner table, the candlelight casting a soft glow over Layla's face. She looks... peaceful, for the first time in weeks. It's a sight I want to memorize, to hold onto when the darkness returns.
"What's good here?" she asks, her eyes scanning the menu with a hunger that goes beyond food.
"Everything," I say, flagging down the waitress. "But if you want my recommendation, go for the jambalaya. It's spicy enough to make you forget your troubles, at least for a little while."
She raises an eyebrow. "And what about you? What are you ordering?"
"The same," I say, leaning back in my chair, my gaze never leaving hers. "After all, misery loves company. And if we're going to pretend everything's fine, we might as well do it together."
She laughs, the sound warm and infectious, and for a moment, the world feels a little less heavy. "Misery, huh? Well, I suppose we're experts in that department."
The food arrives, a feast of flavors that explodes on our tongues. The jambalaya is everything I promised—spicy, savory, and comforting all at once. Layla groans in delight, her fork pausing midway to her mouth. "This... this is fucking amazing. I think I've died and gone to heaven."
"Told you," I say, smiling as I watch her savor the dish. "Sometimes, all you need is a little heat to remind you that life is worth living. Even when it's a complete and utter shitshow."
She meets my gaze, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "Thank you, Alden. For tonight. For everything. For reminding me that I'm still human, even when I feel like I'm falling apart."
"Always," I say, reaching across the table to take her hand, my thumb brushing against her skin. "You're not alone in this, Layla. Not as long as I'm here. And I'm not going anywhere, no matter how bad it gets."
The moment stretches between us, heavy with unspoken words and emotions. The diamond in her chest pulses again, a reminder of the danger that lurks just beyond the restaurant's walls. But for now, we're safe. For now, we're free.
As we finish our meal, the conversation turns lighter, the weight of our lives momentarily forgotten. We talk about everything and nothing—childhood memories, favorite books, the absurdity of our situation. Layla's laughter fills the air, and I find myself getting lost in the sound, in the way her eyes crinkle at the corners when she smiles. It's a reminder of why I'm fighting so hard to keep her safe, why I'd burn the world to the ground if it meant she could keep laughing like this.
But as the night wears on, the shadows begin to creep in. The diamond pulses more insistently, a warning that our time is running out. I see the tension return to her shoulders, the wariness in her gaze as she scans the restaurant. The laughter fades, replaced by a silence that's heavy with unspoken fear.
"We should go," I say, standing and offering her my hand. "Before the Council, top assassins hired by the Syndicate, decide to crash our little party. They have a knack for ruining a good time."
She nods, her smile fading as she takes my hand. "Yeah. Before they ruin the night completely. I don't think I could handle that right now."
We leave the restaurant, the warmth and light fading behind us as we step back into the cool night air. The streets are quieter now, the music and laughter muted as if the city itself is holding its breath. Layla's hand tightens in mine, her steps quickening as we head toward the safe house. As I watch her go into her room, I wonder if we will ever be free of this cursed diamond. I can't bear to watch another of my friends die. There has to be a way to protect her until she figures out how to summon Asher. She is the only one who can control him and prevent him from burning this world to ash, ensuring that only dragons rule. I kiss my pendant as I lie down, and then I pray to any god or goddess listening to spare Layla.