Page 118 of Firefly
Because I’m starting to realize something dangerous. I don’t think stolen moments with Ophelia will ever be enough for me again. Not after having her. Not after hearing her laugh in my apartment. Not after waking up with her wrapped around me like she belonged there and the thought of Brayden having all that while I get shadows and secrecy? It’s eating me alive.
By the time I climb onto my bike, my hands shake violently around the handle bars. The universe keeps trying to separate us. Her father. Brayden. This city.
But one thing becomes painfully clear riding away from that gala beneath Brimstone's glittering skyline.
I’m done sharing what belongs to me.
Ophelia
“Gasoline-Halsey”
The rest of the gala feels like drowning slowly in expensive perfume and fake smiles. I can’t breathe right after Hayden leaves. My chest physically aches watching him disappear through the doors like he’s trying to outrun how badly this hurts too.
And God… the look in his eyes before he walked away.I’ve never seen Hayden look defeated before.Angry? Yes. Violent? Constantly. Possessive enough to start wars? Absolutely, but defeated? No—not until tonight.
Because he’s right. This isn’t enough anymore. We got one taste of what loving each other freely could feel like—and now everything else feels unbearable.
“You okay?” Brayden’s voice suddenly cuts through my spiraling thoughts.
I blink quickly, realizing I’ve been standing frozen near the champagne tower for who knows how long.
“I'm fine,” I lie, and he studies me carefully.
He noticed Hayden. Maybe not who he was exactly… but enough. And Brayden is many things—cruel, entitled, manipulative—but stupid isn’t one of them.
“You’ve been weird all night,” he grunts while adjusting his tie.
I force a smile so fake it hurts my face. “I think I’ve had too much champagne for one night.”
“That’s not it,” he accuses, as panic curls low in my stomach, because if he figures out who Hayden is to me and that he is alive before I know what Hayden plans to do about my father… everything will burn.
“Was that guy bothering you earlier?” he asks with narrowed eyes.
“No.” Too fast. “He was just returning my phone like I told you,” I lie again, but he doesn't say anything as my father appears beside us.
The tension grows and I feel suffocated. My father looks perfectly polished in his expensive suit and charming smile. Evil wrapped neatly behind money and power. The same man who buried Hayden alive for loving me.
“Smile more, Ophelia,” he says softly while sipping whiskey. “People are watching.”
I immediately straighten. Years of conditioning.
Brayden slips his arm around my waist possessively while my father nods approvingly.
“There’s the future Mrs. Augustine.”
The words nearly make me sick but I smile anyway. Because survival in this family means pretending until you rot from the inside out.
***
The gala finally ends sometime after midnight.Thank fucking God.
I feel emotionally flayed open by the time Brayden walks me toward his Mercedes. My heels ache. My head hurts. My heart feels like Hayden left with half of it bleeding across the marble floor.
Brayden opens the passenger door for me. Such a gentleman. If you ignore the monster underneath.
The second we pull away from the country club, silence settled heavily inside the car. Not peaceful silence. The dangerous kind.
He drives with one hand while the other twitches in his lap.
