Celine woke with a sharp inhale. Her eyes snapped open.
Wrong ceiling.
Her heart slammed violently against her ribs as her gaze darted across unfamiliar walls, taking in the space in quick, sharp movements. Nothing about it felt like hers. Nothing felt safe.
She pushed herself back against the couch, breath quick, uneven, fingers gripping the fabric beneath her like it could anchor her.
"Hey."
The voice cut through the spiral.
Low. Steady. Familiar.
Her head turned sharply.
August stood a few steps away, hair damp like he'd just come out of the shower, a towel slung loosely over his shoulder. His presence filled the room without crowding it.
"You're okay," he said, voice calm. "You passed out in the car."
Her lips parted, dry.
"Where am I?"
"My place," he replied simply. "Figured you couldn't go to yours."
A pause.
The words settled.
Something shifted behind her eyes.
The break-in.
Her body stiffened.
Her hand moved instinctively, searching.
"Where is it?" she asked quickly.
August nodded toward the table beside her.
"You were clinging onto it," he said. "Figured it mattered."
Her gaze snapped to it immediately.
The document sat there.
Untouched.
Celine swung her legs off the couch and stood up.
The room tilted slightly.
"Careful," August said, stepping forward just a bit. "You're still shaken."
She ignored him. Steadying herself with a brief pause, she walked past him, each step controlled, deliberate, like she refused to let her body betray her again.
Her gaze locked onto the table.
The document.
She reached it and picked it up, fingers tightening around the edges as if confirming it was real.
Still there. Still hers.
She exhaled slowly, shoulders lifting just slightly before settling again.
Only then did she glance back at him.
August was watching her.
Not the way men usually did. Not her face. Not her body.
The document.
His eyes flicked over it briefly, catching the official seal, the structured formatting, her name printed clearly across the page.
Property.
His jaw tightened just slightly. But he didn't ask.
Instead, he leaned back against the counter, arms folding loosely.
"Whatever that is," he said calmly, "someone really wanted it."
Her grip tightened around the document. For a moment, she said nothing.
"It's mine," she said quietly.
Her eyes lifted to his, sharp now, clearer than before despite the exhaustion still clinging to her.
"And no one is taking it."
August held her gaze, reading the tone more than the words.
He nodded once, slow.
"Alright."
No questions. No pressure. Just acceptance.
Celine studied him for a second longer, like she was trying to figure him out, why he wasn't pushing, why he wasn't asking for more.
Most people would.
He didn't.
That unsettled her more than curiosity would have.
Her fingers adjusted slightly on the file, more secure now.
"I'll leave soon," she added, voice steadier. "I don't plan on staying."
August let out a quiet breath through his nose, almost amused.
"Yeah," he said lightly. "You can barely stand."
She didn't respond.
Just held his gaze.
Stubborn.
He pushed off the counter then, not approaching, but not backing down either.
"Sit," he said, calm but firm. "At least until you stop looking like you're about to pass out again."
A pause.
"I'm not kicking you out. Relax." he said quietly
Celine hesitated.
Then, slowly…
She sat back down.
Still holding the document.
Still not letting her guard down.
But not walking out either.
August watched her for a second, and headed toward the kitchen.
The quiet clink of utensils filled the space, something steady, He reached for a pan, turning the stove on with practiced ease.
"Breakfast," he said over his shoulder, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
A pause.
"You allergic to anything?"
Celine blinked.
The question caught her off guard.
Of all the things she expected… that wasn't one of them.
"…No," she said after a beat.
Her voice was still a little rough, but steadier now.
August nodded once, already moving.
"Good."
Eggs hit the pan with a soft sizzle.
The smell of something warm, something real, began to fill the room.
Celine watched him quietly.
***
Nolan POV Ex's:
The mirror shattered under the force of his fist. Glass spiderwebbed outward before falling into the sink in sharp pieces as blood dripped from his knuckles, slow and steady.
He didn't feel it. His breathing was heavy.
"She got away."
The words kept replaying in his head. He turned slightly, staring at the broken reflection of himself.
This wasn't supposed to happen. He had paid for precision. For silence. For control.
Not escape.
His jaw tightened.
"I told you," he said under his breath, voice low, "make her sign."
"Sir…"
Nolan didn't turn.
The man at the door stepped in slowly. Same one who brought the message.
The failure.
Nolan finally spoke, still facing the mirror.
"So explain this to me," he said flatly. "How do you lose an unharmed woman?"
The man hesitated.
"We didn't expect her to run, sir. She panicked before we could fully restrain her."
Silence.
Nolan's eyes stayed on the broken glass.
"So you had her," he said quietly, "and still lost her."
"Yes, sir."
The answer was immediate. Tight. Afraid.
Nolan finally turned his head just slightly as the man stiffened.
"I didn't hire you for excuses," Nolan said. "I hired you for results."
"Yes, sir."
Nolan looked back at the mirror, slowly wrapping his hand in a towel.
Calm again. Too calm.
"Find her," he said.
"And next time," his voice lowered, "don't let an unharmed woman walk out of your sight."
"Yes, sir."
The man left quickly. Grateful to be out of there.
Nolan stayed still. Watching the broken mirror.
Not angry anymore. Just thinking.