Nyra hadn't planned to light it.
That was the lie she told herself as she stood on the rooftop, the city breathing below her like a restless animal. ValeTech after hours was too quiet, too clean, too far from the noise that usually kept her grounded.
Her fingers trembled not from fear, not from cold.
From want.
She rolled the cigarette between her fingers, staring at it like it was an old enemy she knew too well. The kind that smiled before stabbing you.
"Just one," she muttered. "Just to shut my head up."
The lighter clicked.
Flame kissed the tip. Smoke bloomed.
The first drag hit her lungs like memory. Sharp. Familiar. Wrong and perfect in the way only bad habits ever were.
She closed her eyes.
Eastside asphalt. Shark's voice in her ear. Gunshots echoing too close. Adrian's eyes watching too carefully.
Exhale.
The smoke curled upward, dissolving into the night. For a second just one her shoulders dropped. Her pulse slowed. The chaos quieted.
And then guilt followed, right on cue.
"Damn it," she whispered, staring at the cigarette like it had betrayed her. Or maybe she'd betrayed herself.
She crushed it out too soon, grinding the filter against the concrete until it was nothing but ash.
Too late.
The smell clung to her anyway.
By the time she was back inside, Elias noticed before she did.
He froze mid-sentence, eyes narrowing not accusing, not disappointed. Just… aware.
"Nyra," he said carefully, lowering his voice. "Did you"
"No," she snapped too fast.
Silence.
Then she sighed, rubbing her face. "Okay. Yes. One. I'm not spiraling, I just " She stopped herself, jaw tight. "Don't make it a thing."
Elias didn't smile. Didn't lecture.
That scared her more.
"Square one?" he asked quietly.
She nodded. "Feels like it."
Elias exhaled slowly. "You don't owe anyone perfection. But you owe yourself honesty."
She looked away. "I was honest. I wanted it."
That answer sat heavy between them.
Across the building, behind glass and control panels, Adrian Vale stood still.
The scent reached him through the open stairwell door faint, unmistakable.
Smoke.
His chest tightened.
So she'd lost.
Or maybe worse she'd chosen.
His reflection in the glass looked calm. Unbothered. CEO-perfect.
Inside, something snapped.
I gave you space, he thought. I held back.
And still you go back.
Adrian turned away from the window, jaw clenched so hard it ached. This wasn't frustration anymore.
It was offense.
Nyra thought lighting that cigarette put her back at square one.
She was wrong.
For Adrian, it marked the moment he stopped pretending this was about discipline.
It was about possession.
And he was done waiting.