Lana exhaled sharply as she stepped away from the party, her pulse still unsteady from the game.
She knew Bailey was baiting her, pushing to get a reaction. And she hated that it worked.
The rooftop lights blurred behind her as she walked toward the quieter edge, where the cool night air wasn't thick with alcohol and judgment.
She leaned against the railing, gripping the cold metal as she stared at the distant skyline. The city stretched endlessly, buzzing with life—so many people, yet she felt so out of place.
"Not your scene?"
A voice cut through her thoughts, and Lana turned sharply.
A small group stood near the back exit, just beyond the glow of the fairy lights. Three guys, half-hidden in the shadows. She recognized one—Bailey's friend, though she couldn't recall his name.
The other two? Unfamiliar.
Something about the way they stood the way their eyes lingered on her made the back of her neck prickle.
She swallowed. "I was just getting some air."
Bailey's friend smirked. "You can do that here."
The other guy chuckled, stepping forward slightly. "Yeah, no need to run off."
Lana forced a polite smile, inching back toward the crowd. Every instinct told her to leave.
But before she could move
A hand brushed her wrist.
Too light to be forceful, but enough to freeze her in place.
"Don't be like that," the guy murmured, his grin widening. "We're just talking."
Lana's chest tightened. Not good.
She pulled her arm back, keeping her voice steady. "I should get back—"
"Come on." Another step closer. Another smirk. Too much confidence. Too much alcohol.
Her pulse quickened.
Where was Mason?
Her fingers fumbled for her phone, but one of the guys laughed. "Relax," he said, too smooth, too easy.
Her skin crawled.
Then—
A deep voice cut through the night.
"I think she said no."
The shift was immediate.
Lana turned, her breath catching as a figure stepped from the shadows.
Tall. Broad-shouldered. Dressed in a dark suit that shouldn't belong at a college party, yet somehow fit effortlessly.
The air seemed to drop ten degrees.
One of the guys scoffed. "Who the hell are you?"
The man didn't answer right away. He simply looked at them—calm, unreadable.
And they felt it.
Something shifted in their posture. Unease.
Lana barely registered the moment they backed off, muttering curses as they disappeared into the crowd.
The tension snapped like a cord breaking.
Lana exhaled a shaky breath, relief flooding her—too fast, too strong.
Her knees buckled.
Before she could hit the ground, strong hands caught her.
One arm wrapped around her waist, the other gripping her wrist, steadying her before she could even process what was happening.
Her breath hitched.
Close. Too close.
His scent—warm spice, crisp cologne.
Her eyes flickered up, and her breath stalled.
She didn't recognize him.
He was older than most of the people here, maybe late thirties, early forties. Sharp jawline, intense eyes. Intimidating, but not in a way that scared her.
His gaze swept over her, as if checking for something.
Then—slowly, deliberately—he eased his grip, stepping back just enough to let her stand on her own.
Lana barely had time to process the way her skin tingled where he had touched her before—
"Lana!"
Mason's voice shouted from across the rooftop.
She turned just as he pushed through the crowd, his expression tight with worry.
When his eyes landed on the man beside her, he froze.
"…Dad?"
Lana's stomach dropped.
She snapped her head back toward the stranger—Mason's father?
Everything tilted.
Mason looked between them, confusion clouding his face. "What the hell is going on?"
Lana wasn't sure how to answer.
All she knew was that this night had changed everything.