Liam slipped behind the barracks with a long exhale, the night air warm against his skin. The past few days had pressed into him—rebuilding Ridgebrook, training with Leonidas, managing Vlad's new shadow unit, and Rasputin's unsettling presence stirring whispers all over the village.
Even the Ledger's earlier glow still lingered in his mind:
[NEXT SUMMON: 27 DAYS]
He rubbed his temples, trying to clear the tension. He didn't expect anyone to be awake this late. Certainly not inside the old storage shed.
But when he pushed the door open, he froze.
Lira was already there.
She stood with her back against stacked crates, the moonlight slicing through cracks in the wooden walls and outlining every curve of her body. Her dress clung to her softly, catching the shape of her hips and the gentle rise of her breasts with every slow breath. Her hair fell loose around her shoulders, shining faintly in the dim light.
She looked at him as though she had been waiting for him—expecting him.
"You always wander off alone," she murmured, her voice low, warm, just a little trembling.
Liam swallowed hard. "Lira? What are you doing out here?"
"You never visit anymore."
She stepped forward, closing the distance, her fingers brushing his wrist lightly at first, then lingering.
"You're always busy now… chief."
He opened his mouth to speak, but her other hand slid up his chest—slowly, deliberately—tracing the fabric over his muscles. Her touch was warm, soft, familiar in a way he didn't know he'd missed.
"You look so tired," she whispered, standing close enough for him to feel the heat of her breath. "Let me help you forget everything. Just for a little while."
Her thumb brushed the center of his chest. She looked up at him with eyes that held worry, affection… and something deeper.
"Do you remember our first kiss?" she asked quietly.
Liam let out a breath. "Yeah. I remember."
Her lips curled into the smallest, sweetest smile. "I thought about it for weeks. I thought you would kiss me again."
"I wanted to," he admitted. "But everything happened so fast."
"War. Blood. Monsters."
She nodded. "I know."
Her hand slid behind his neck, fingers threading into his hair, and she rose onto her toes. Her lips brushed his—not fully kissing, just teasing, testing.
"But you're here now," she breathed.
It was the way she said it—the closeness, the warmth, the longing in her voice—that finally broke him.
He kissed her.
Soft first, then deeper as she leaned into him with a trembling exhale. She tasted warm, sweet, desperate in a gentle way that made Liam tighten his arms around her. Her hands cupped his face as she kissed him again, more urgent this time, her body melting against his.
When she finally pulled back for air, her voice quivered.
"I've wanted this for so long."
"Lira…"
She took his hand and guided it down the curve of her waist, over her hip, pressing it firmly onto her body. Her breath caught, and she looked into his eyes—open, bold, wanting.
"I'm not afraid," she whispered. "Tonight… I want you."
Heat rushed through him. She pushed him gently until he sat on a sturdy crate, then climbed onto his lap with deliberate, sensual grace. Her dress lifted slightly as she straddled him, warm skin pressing against his palms as his hands instinctively found her thighs.
"Touch me," she whispered, her voice trembling just enough to betray how much she meant it.
He did. And the sound she made—a soft, breathy moan—nearly unraveled him.
Her lips found his again, hungry now, kissing him with months of pent-up desire. Her hips shifted against him, her body pressing closer, her breaths turning shallow and rapid. His hands slid up her legs, across her waist, feeling the soft curves beneath the thin fabric of her dress.
"Liam…" she whispered into his mouth, "don't hold back."
She kissed his neck, slow and teasing, her fingers slipping under his shirt to trace the warmth of his skin. He inhaled sharply as her nails trailed lightly along his torso.
"You're always so tense," she murmured. "Let me take that away."
Her lips traveled along his jaw, her breath hot and unsteady. His hands slid higher, making her gasp softly as she arched her body into his.
The shed felt smaller, hotter, their breaths mingling, their movements growing more desperate with every second.
Then—
Footsteps outside.
Lira froze in his lap, her body stilling against him. Liam held her waist, listening.
Through a narrow crack between the boards, a silhouette appeared.
Tall. Strong.
A spear in hand.
Orin.
Lira stiffened, clinging to Liam instinctively, her breath caught in her throat. She pressed closer, nearly hiding in his lap, her heart pounding against his chest.
Orin paused in front of the shed.
Her head turned slightly toward the door.
Liam felt Lira's fingers dig into his shoulders, not from fear of being caught—but from jealousy burning through her.
Orin lingered too long.
Like she sensed something.
Like she was searching for someone.
Lira's breath trembled against Liam's neck.
Finally, Orin turned away—but slowly, reluctantly—before disappearing back into the night.
Lira let out a shaky exhale, her forehead resting against Liam's.
"She was looking for you," she whispered.
"Maybe."
"She always looks for you," Lira whispered, jealousy cutting through every word. "She watches you like she owns you. Like the rest of us don't exist."
"Lira…"
She took his face in both hands, her voice breaking with emotion and desire.
"I don't want to stand in the shadows anymore."
He brushed her cheek. "You're not—"
"Kiss me," she breathed. "Show me."
He kissed her. Hard.
She kissed back with a soft, desperate moan, pushing him deeper into the crates, her body moving against his with needy urgency. His hands slid under her dress again, her breath hitching each time he touched her, her fingers shaking as they clung to his shirt.
"Liam… please…"
Her voice nearly broke.
She leaned close, lips on his ear.
"Take me."
He pulled her into another kiss, deeper, hotter, her hands threading into his hair as the last sliver of restraint shattered.
The shed filled with warmth, breathless sounds, shifting cloth, and bodies pressed together with rising need. Moonlight fractured over them, catching brief glimpses of trembling skin and hungry touches.
Her whisper faded into a soft, trembling gas—
And the night swallowed them whole.
Fade to black.