Mia didn't knock.
She shoved open the door to Claire's sleek apartment—the address she'd pulled from Elena's old phone while she was sleeping—and stepped inside like she owned the place.
Claire was on the couch, wine glass in hand, looking startled but not surprised.
Then another woman walked out of the kitchen.
Tall. Dark hair cropped short on the sides, longer on top. Tattoos that rivaled Mia's—full sleeves, a raven across her throat. Leather jacket, boots, the kind of presence that made the air feel heavier.
Vera.
Mia's stomach dropped straight through the floor.
"You," Mia breathed.
Vera smiled, slow and sharp. "Hey, stranger. Been a while."
Claire looked between them, confused. "You two know each other?"
Vera laughed, low and dangerous. "Oh, honey. Mia taught me everything I know about keeping a girl on her knees."
The words hit like a slap.
Mia's hands curled into fists. "What the fuck are you doing here?"
Vera stepped closer, circling Claire possessively, one hand sliding around her waist. "Claire reached out. Told me about her ex. About you. About the little show you've been putting on for her." Vera's eyes raked over Mia. "She wanted advice on how to get Elena back. I figured I'd come give it in person."
Mia's voice was ice. "Get out."
Vera's smile widened. "Make me."
The tension snapped.
Mia lunged. Not to hit—just to grab Claire's arm, to pull her away—but Vera moved faster, shoving Mia back against the wall with one forearm across her chest.
They were nose to nose, breathing hard.
"You left me, remember?" Vera hissed. "Said I was too much. Too possessive. Too rough. Now look at you—doing the exact same shit to Elena. History repeating, baby."
Claire stood frozen, eyes wide.
Mia's heart hammered. Vera's body was pressed against hers—muscle, heat, the ghost of every night they'd spent years ago when Mia was the one being pinned, the one begging, the one learning how far she could push before something broke.
Vera leaned in, lips brushing Mia's ear. "You want to fight me for her? Or do you want to admit you're just like me?"
The door flew open.
Elena stood there, coat half-on, eyes wild. She'd seen Mia's note. Followed the location pin Mia had accidentally left open on her phone.
She took in the scene—Vera pinning Mia, Claire watching, the air thick with something far more dangerous than anger.
"Get off her," Elena said quietly.
Vera stepped back, hands up, amused. "This just got interesting."
Elena crossed the room in three strides, grabbed Mia's hand, and pulled her toward the door.
"We're leaving."
Mia let herself be dragged out, but her eyes never left Vera's.
In the hallway Elena spun on her, voice shaking. "What the hell was that?"
Mia's jaw worked. "Old ghost. Vera and I… we were together. Briefly. Before you. She was the reason I swore I'd never let anyone own me like that again."
Elena's laugh was bitter. "And now you're doing it to me."
Mia grabbed her face, kissed her hard—desperate, claiming. "No. I'm doing it because I love you. Because she almost broke me and I'll be damned if Claire or anyone else takes you."
They didn't make it home.
The stairwell was empty. Mia shoved Elena against the wall, yanked her jeans down, dropped to her knees on the concrete, and ate her out right there—fast, filthy, angry. Tongue fucking deep, fingers curling hard, sucking her clit until Elena came with a choked sob, hand fisted in Mia's hair.
Mia stood, spun her around, fucked her with the strap she'd grabbed on the way out—deep, punishing thrusts while whispering against her neck, "Mine. Only mine. Say it."
Elena came twice more, legs shaking, tears on her cheeks.
When they finally stumbled into Mia's apartment, Elena pushed Mia onto the bed and rode her face until she was sobbing Mia's name, grinding down so hard Mia could barely breathe.
They fucked until dawn—rough, then slow, then rough again. Mia came on Elena's tongue, then on her fingers, then while tribbing so wet and desperate their thighs were slick with both of them.
But the ghost stayed in the room.