Later, when the house had settled into silence, Kian stepped outside. The night breeze cooled the heat on his skin, but his mind remained restless.
He had no job. No reputation. No plan.
His phone buzzed in his pocket.
Jason calling.
Kian froze.
Jason had been more than a friend—he had been a brother in uniform. One of the few who believed in him even when the system didn't. They hadn't spoken since the verdict. Partly because Kian felt ashamed. Partly because he didn't know what to say.
He hesitated, then answered.
"Finally," Jason breathed dramatically. "I thought you died."
Kian huffed a quiet laugh. "Still breathing."
"You're home?"
"Yeah."
"Was it as fucked as I heard?"
Kian leaned against the wall, eyes lifting to the sky. "Worse."
Jason went silent for a moment. Not the awkward type—more the calculating type, like he'd been waiting for his opening.
"I've got something for you," Jason said.
"A job?"
"A good one. Private security. High-profile. Pays well."
Kian frowned. "I'm not exactly hireable right now. Not after—"
"Forget the dismissal. These people don't care about military politics. They want someone disciplined, observant, and not easily intimidated." Jason paused, voice lowering. "They want someone like you."
Kian exhaled slowly. It sounded too good to be true—but he trusted Jason more than anyone.
"What's the catch?"
"You'll be assigned to someone… complicated." Jason hesitated. "The client's daughter."
Kian raised a brow. "Complicated how?"
"Cold. Private. Untouchable. Traumatized, maybe." Jason sighed. "She's had threats. Serious ones. Her mother wants her protected around the clock."
"And you're sure I'm the right guy?"
"You're the only guy I would recommend. And Kian…" Jason's voice softened. "You need this. A reset. A fresh start. Something to fight for again."
The words hit deeper than Jason knew.
Kian stared out into the dark street, the faint glow of distant traffic reflecting off puddles from an earlier rainstorm. He thought of his mother's tired eyes. Amelia's hopeful ones. The weight he carried on his shoulders.
"What's her name?" he asked quietly.
"Selene."
Something about the name lingered—soft, haunting, powerful.
Jason continued, "If you're in, I'll text the address. Interview's tomorrow morning. Wear something that says 'I won't hesitate to break a man's wrist but also I can read.'"
Kian snorted. "That a real dress code?"
"For private security? Absolutely."
Kian felt the smallest spark of purpose flicker inside him. The first in a long time.
"Alright," he said. "I'm in."
Jason let out a victorious noise. "Good. Don't make me look stupid."
"Wouldn't dream of it."
They hung up, and Kian remained outside for a long moment, letting the new possibility settle in. For months he had lived under the shadow of a ruined career. Now, suddenly, there was a chance—unexpected but promising.
A chance to rewrite his future.
A chance at redemption.
He turned to head inside when he saw Amelia standing by the doorway, blanket wrapped around her shoulders, eyes curious.
"You got a job?" she asked softly.
"Maybe."
She smiled—a small, tired, hopeful smile. "Then take it, Kian. You deserve something good."
He nodded. And for the first time since leaving the base, he felt like he could breathe.
Tomorrow, everything would change.
And he had no idea that the name Selene would soon shift the entire axis of his world.
The black SUV rolled through the gates of the Hartmann estate, its tinted windows reflecting manicured hedges, marble fountains, and guards positioned like statues. Kian sat in the backseat, spine straight, hands resting on his knees, eyes tracking every turn of the driveway.
He shouldn't have been surprised. Jason had said the client's family had money. But this wasn't mere wealth—this was influence carved into stone.
The vehicle slowed, tires whispering over the polished driveway, before stopping in front of a mansion that looked imported from another century. Tall pillars. Iron balconies. Curtains so thick they concealed more than sunlight.
Kian stepped out, the cool air brushing his skin. For a moment he stood still, absorbing his new environment. There were corners perfect for hiding. Angles for snipers. Blind spots that needed fixing. Entry points that could be breached.
Habit.
Military thinking.
Even when he tried to switch it off, his mind assessed every threat.
Jason led him toward the wide entrance doors. "Just a heads-up," he murmured. "Selene isn't… friendly."
"Noted."
Kian kept walking.
"And she doesn't like being guarded."
"Most people don't."
Jason gave him a look. "No, I mean she really doesn't. She fired the last two guys within days."
Kian said nothing. If she fired him, then so be it. At least he'd have tried.
Inside, the foyer opened into a grand hall with a chandelier dripping crystal light. Staff moved quietly, their eyes lowering respectfully as they passed.
"Her mother is upstairs," Jason whispered, pointing toward a corridor. "But Selene… she's in the music room."
"Music room?"
Jason nodded. "You'll see."
He led Kian down the left hallway, past tall arched windows and shelves lined with books. Then he stopped by a door made of dark wood.
A soft melody floated through it. Piano keys—slow, haunting, then sharp. A song that sounded like someone trying to hold themselves together and failing.