The car ride is quiet, but not empty. Elijah’s hand never leaves me. It rests on my thigh the entire time, warm, grounding, his thumb moving in slow, absent strokes that keep me tethered when my mind tries to jump ahead.
Lucian sits opposite us, relaxed in posture, but his attention is everywhere. Every shift of the car, every light, every movement outside, it all registers.
I focus on Elijah, on the weight of his hand, on the steady rise and fall of my breath. Because I know the second we arrive, everything changes.
The arena is already alive when we pull in.
Lights.
Movement.
Voices carrying even through the closed car. My chest tightens before the door even opens, and I take a breath as the cool air hits me.
“Lia, over here!”
“Is this relationship real?”
“Are you confirming you’re involved with all three players?”
“How does it feel to be back in the public eye?”
“Any comment on the gala shooting was that connected to you?”
The questions collide into each other, sharp, invasive, relentless.
For a split second, my body locks. It’s too loud. Too familiar. That same sharp edge of being watched, picked apart, pulled into something I didn’t choose... No. Not the same.
Elijah’s arm wraps around me instantly, pulling me into his side, his body blocking part of the chaos, his presence cutting through the noise like something solid in the middle of a storm.
“Eyes forward,” he murmurs low against my temple. “I’ve got you.”
I inhale. Slow. Deliberate, then lift my chin and walk. We don’t stop. We don’t answer. Not a single question.
Lucian moves just behind and slightly to the side, his positioning subtle but precise, intercepting movement, redirecting proximity without it ever looking aggressive.
“Elijah, are you involved in the incident at the gala?”
“Is this retaliation?”
“Are you bringing violence into the league?”
That one lands. I feel the shift in Elijah immediately.
His arm tightens slightly around me, his hand pressing into my side in a way that feels like both warning and reassurance at once.
We keep moving through the doors, out of the noise. The shift inside is immediate. Quieter. Controlled.
But the adrenaline is still there, humming under my skin, my body still catching up to what just happened.
Elijah doesn’t let go.
His hand slides to the back of my neck, pulling me slightly closer as we walk deeper into the private section.
“You’re okay,” he says quietly.
I nod.
“I’m okay.”
