Adam watched them from the corner.
Nyx felt it before she saw it.
When she turned, he was already walking toward her.
She shifted slightly, slow and controlled.
Strange.
She hadn't sensed him move.
No shift in air. No footsteps registered.
After years of training, she could usually read a person's presence like a shadow.
But Adam?
Nothing.
Maybe he isn't wearing perfume, she thought.
Or maybe—
He dropped into the seat beside her like he'd always belonged there.
"You're a quiet dancer," Adam said easily. "Smooth moves. I loved it."
Nyx didn't reply.
He leaned back. "Are you gonna stay quiet the whole time? We've barely spoken, Nyx. Come on."
She finally turned her head toward him.
Looked straight into his eyes.
"What's there to talk about?" she asked flatly. "I don't even know you."
Adam smiled wider. "Then get to know me. I'm a funny guy. Full variety. Premium humour. You'll love it."
Nyx studied him.
"Judging by the way everyone's orbiting you," she said calmly, "you already light up the room."
No emotion. Just observation.
Adam kept staring at her.
She noticed.
"What?" she asked.
He tilted his head. "Nothing. It's just… you're the first person who's looked straight into my eyes."
"And why is that?"
He grinned. "Because they're attractive. Combine that with this handsome face—people get shy. Even kids."
Nyx scoffed softly.
"And I bet no one's ever told you how narcissistic you are."
Adam laughed. "Oh, I know. I'll take that as a compliment."
Just then, footsteps.
Lucien walked back in.
He took in the scene in one glance—Nyx seated, Adam beside her.
His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.
He walked over.
"Nyx," Lucien said evenly. "We need to practice."
Adam waved a hand lazily. "Relax, Lucien. She's all yours—for now."
Nyx didn't respond.
She stood and walked away without a word.
Lucien followed.
But even as she moved across the room, Nyx could feel it.
Adam's gaze on her back.
Not playful.
Not curious.
Watching.
Tracking.
Every step.
And for the first time since stepping into Aurelius—
Nyx felt something close to unease.
Not fear.
Recognition.
Practice wrapped up late.
Nine p.m.
One by one, they drifted out of the building—laughing, stretching sore muscles, checking phones, calling drivers.
Nyx adjusted her bag on her shoulder and headed toward the bus stop.
The night air was cool. Streets half-empty.
A black car rolled up beside her.
She didn't flinch.
The window slid down.
Lucien.
"I know you won't ask for a ride," he said calmly. "And I know you'll probably refuse."
She stopped walking.
"So don't."
He met her eyes.
"Get in. I'm your partner in crime."
Nyx studied him for a second.
No sarcasm. No hesitation.
She opened the door and slid inside.
No words exchanged.
The car pulled away.
Streetlights passed in slow rhythm. Neither spoke. The silence felt… natural. Heavy, but not uncomfortable.
When they reached her apartment, she unbuckled and stepped out.
Lucien finally broke it.
"You're welcome."
She paused.
Then turned slightly.
"Tomorrow," he added. "Four p.m. Meeting with Liza. We're all going together. I'll pick you up at three."
Nyx gave a short nod.
Then walked toward her building without looking back.
Lucien watched until she disappeared inside.
He exhaled.
Cold, he thought.
Not even a thank you.
He shook his head faintly, starting the engine.
"Never mind."