By midnight, Nora understood something she hadn't wanted to admit.
The whiteboard on her fridge—HOUSE RULES, underlined like a prayer—wasn't magic.
It couldn't make a too-small apartment big enough for heat and cold in the same room.
It couldn't stop instincts that had never learned the word *rent*.
Kaelen prowled like a caged lion, trying to pretend the walls weren't pressing into his skin.
Zane sat at Nora's kitchen table, silent, long-legged, studying the lamp like it might turn into a camera if he stared hard enough.
And Nora moved between them like a fragile treaty she'd signed in her own handwriting.
She boiled water for instant noodles.
Kaelen didn't eat.
Zane didn't either.
They watched her hands.
Her breath.
Her pulse.
Like feeding her was the only safe thing they could do without touching.
Nora hated how it made her feel… precious.
Not loved.
Managed.
She slid a bowl toward Zane.
"You're the one who's pale," she said.
Zane's eyes lifted.
"I'm always pale."
"That's not an answer."
Zane's mouth twitched.
"You're learning to interrogate," he said. "That's dangerous."
Kaelen snorted from the doorway.
"She interrogates by existing," he muttered. "Men confess just to keep her looking at them."
Zane's gaze flicked to Kaelen, cool.
"Is that what you're doing?"
Kaelen's eyes flashed.
"You don't get to speak to me."
Zane's voice stayed soft.
"I speak to whoever is a threat."
Heat rose.
Nora felt it in her bones.
"Rule one," she said without looking up.
Silence.
Kaelen's jaw worked.
Then, like it cost him blood, he stepped back.
Zane's gaze softened by a fraction.
Not gratitude.
Respect.
Nora's phone buzzed again.
Unknown number.
No message this time.
Just a silent ring that lasted one second, then stopped.
As if someone had touched the glass and pulled away.
Nora's fingers shook.
Kaelen noticed.
He didn't touch her.
He asked.
"May I?" he said, voice rough.
Nora swallowed.
"Yes."
His hand settled at the back of her neck—warm, steadying.
Her muscles unclenched against her will.
Zane's gaze sharpened, then slid away—like he'd forced himself not to watch.
Nora caught that
Zane's voice came from the table—light, almost careless.
"If you want cold," he said, "you say it. Don't let him decide the whole climate."
Kaelen's fingers flexed at her neck, then stilled.
Not tightening.
Waiting.
Nora took a breath.
"I want… both," she said, steadying her voice. "But I choose when."
.
It made something in her chest twist.
"You," she said quietly, to Zane.
His eyes lifted.
"Come here."
Kaelen's head snapped up.
Zane went still.
Nora met both their gazes.
"I said come here," she repeated. "And no one argues with me in my kitchen."
Kaelen's nostrils flared.
"…Ask him," he growled. "Not order him."
Nora didn't look away.
"Then you ask him," she said. "Like a good king."
Kaelen looked like he'd been slapped.
Zane's expression flickered—surprise, then something dangerously pleased.
Kaelen's throat worked.
Finally, he turned his head a fraction toward Zane, voice tight.
"Will you… come," he forced out, "if she wants you to?"
Zane smiled.
Not kind.
Surgical.
"Yes," he said, and moved.
He stopped at Nora's other side—close enough that the air cooled.
Nora reached out, slow, deliberate, and took his hand.
It was exactly like she remembered from the Facility.
Mist.
Then ice.
Then, with a shiver that ran up his arm, something solid—smooth as stone, cold as glass.
Zane's breath hitched.
Kaelen's heat spiked on instinct.
Nora squeezed both of them—Kaelen's warmth on her left, Zane's cold on her right.
For a heartbeat, it felt perfect.
Balanced.
Then her vision blurred.
Pain lanced behind her eyes.
Like her body was a fuse burning too fast.
Nora's knees buckled.
Kaelen caught her instantly.
Zane's hand tightened around hers like he was afraid she'd vanish.
"Too much," Zane said sharply.
Kaelen's voice went feral.
"Get away from her."
Zane didn't move.
"You're the one overheating her," he snapped back. "She's trying to stabilize both of us."
Nora tried to speak.
Her tongue felt thick.
The room tilted.
Cold and heat fought across her skin—comfort and agony in the same breath.
She heard Kaelen's voice—far away—saying her name like a prayer he hated.
She heard Zane's voice—close—saying it like a code he couldn't lose.
Then the world went dark.
—
She woke to the taste of salt and metal.
Someone had put a blanket over her.
Someone had not.
Two presences bracketed her on the couch.
Kaelen sat on the floor, back against the coffee table, one arm hooked over the couch like a cage.
His eyes were fixed on her face as if he'd been afraid to blink.
Zane sat at the far end, still as a shadow, his hand resting near her ankle but not touching.
His gaze tracked every rise of her chest.
Nora swallowed.
"Stop staring," she rasped.
Kaelen's jaw clenched.
"You fell," he said. "Because you tried to hold us both."
"And?" Nora whispered.
Kaelen's voice broke, just a little.
"And you can't do that again."
Zane's voice came softer.
"She will," he said. "She's the kind of person who pays the cost twice just to prove she can."
Nora closed her eyes.
Annoyed because it was true.
A knock came at the door.
Kaelen moved before the second knock could land.
The air in the apartment turned hot.
Zane's body went half-transparent in a blink—ready to become a blade.
"Rule one," Nora said, breath thin. "No fighting."
Kaelen froze.
Zane paused.
Nora's pulse spiked.
"Enough," she said—quiet, not a command, not a plea.
Kaelen's shoulders locked.
Zane's eyes flicked to her, a quick flash of approval.
It worked.
No white pain behind her eyes.
Just… control.
Nora forced herself upright and called, "Who is it?"
A voice came through the wood—cheerful, bored, too normal.
"Delivery."
Nora's stomach sank.
Kaelen cracked the door open.
A man stood in the hallway with a paper bag and a baseball cap pulled low.
Ace.
He looked exactly like he'd looked in the office, like he'd never been scared of anything in his life.
His eyes flicked past Kaelen, past the heat, and landed on Nora.
He smiled—small, knowing.
"Hey," he said. "You look like hell."
Kaelen's fingers tightened on the doorframe.
"You," he growled. "You were there."
Ace tilted his head.
"I'm lots of places," he said pleasantly. "That's sort of my thing."
Zane appeared beside the door like he'd always been there, gaze flat.
"Who sent you?" he asked.
Ace's smile widened.
"Nobody," he said. "Consider it… courtesy."
He held up the bag.
Kaelen blocked him.
Ace sighed, like dealing with children.
Time stuttered.
Not fully stopped—Nora could still breathe—but the hallway light flickered, and the sound of the building faded into cotton.
Ace stepped past Kaelen as if Kaelen wasn't there.
Kaelen's eyes went wide with a rage he couldn't translate into movement.
Ace walked into Nora's apartment, set the bag on the coffee table, and pulled out a box of painkillers and electrolyte packets like he'd been here before.
Then he leaned down, close enough that only Nora could hear.
"Take care of her," he murmured, voice suddenly cold. "Idiots."
Nora's pulse jumped.
Ace straightened, the cheerful mask back on.
"Don't overheat her," he told Kaelen. "Don't freeze her," he told Zane. "And you—" he looked at Nora, eyes sharp "—don't be a martyr. Martyrs don't get happy endings."
Then he stepped back into the hallway.
Time snapped into place.
Kaelen lunged.
Ace was already gone.
Only the scent of rain—fresh, sharp—lingered for half a second.
Nora's hands shook around the pill bottle.
Kaelen turned on her, voice raw.
"Why did he walk past me?"
Nora swallowed.
"I don't know."
Zane's eyes narrowed at the door like he could see the seams of reality.
"He's not normal," he said quietly.
Kaelen's voice dropped to a growl.
"Neither are we."
Nora closed her eyes, pain pulsing behind them.
Her phone lit up—one new message.
No number.
Just two words.
Don't break.
Nora stared at it.
Then she flipped the phone facedown again.
House rules were not enough.
She would need something else.
Something stronger.
Something only she could do.
Nora breathed in Kaelen's heat.
Breathed in Zane's cold.
And for the first time, she wondered how many monsters were going to come knocking—
because they'd smelled her.
The deadbolt clicked.
Not turning.
Just… acknowledging.
Like something on the other side had learned her name and her rule in the same breath.
Zane's eyes lifted, suddenly bright.
Kaelen went still, the way predators do right before they lunge.
Nora stared at the peephole.
Nothing.
Empty hallway.
No shadow.
No footsteps.
And yet the metal under her fingers warmed—answering pressure she couldn't see.
A thin strip of paper slid under the door.
Clean, white, and damp at the edge, as if it had been kissed by rain.
One sentence.
May I meet you at 9:13?
Below it: a printed map pin.
The nearest subway station.
Nora's mouth went dry.
Kaelen's hand clenched—then stilled.
Kaelen read it over her shoulder and growled, low and lethal.
Zane's smile didn't reach his eyes.
Nora folded the paper once.
Twice.
Then tucked it into her pocket like a secret.
"Fine," she said softly. "If it wants to ask…"
Her gaze lifted to both men.
"It can ask in public."