Page 73 of Celestial Combat

Zane must’ve felt me watching him, because suddenly, his head turned.

Our eyes met.

Heat curled low in my stomach, sharp and unexpected.

I looked away first.

Instead, I let my gaze drift back out the window, tracing the contours of the skyline as the bridge carried us away from Manhattan’s unforgiving glow and into the deeper shadows of Brooklyn. The lights here were different – less demanding, more scattered. Streetlamps stretched long reflections over the East River, flickering against its surface.

I expected him to take the next exit toward Queens, but he didn’t.

Instead, he kept driving, moving deeper into downtown Brooklyn.

I wanted to ask where we were going, wanted to ask why we weren’t headed to the mansion – but then I remembered.

Trevor’s last words.Get her checked out.

So maybe we weren’t heading home after all.

Maybe I was about to be with Zane, alone, for even longer than I’d planned.

And maybe that thought was more terrifying than everything that had happened tonight.

Chapter 22

Present

Brooklyn, New York City

ZANE TURNED THE SUV OFF a quiet street, heading into a private driveway, and down its ramp, toward an underground parking garage.

I watched as the metal door ahead slid open, almost as if it knew we were coming. He didn’t slow down, didn’t press any buttons – just kept driving like the place recognized him, like it was programmed to obey.

The moment we crossed inside, the door rumbled shut behind us, sealing us in.

The garage was dimly lit, lined with a handful of expensive cars, their polished surfaces catching the flickering glow of the overhead fluorescents. Zane pulled smoothly into an empty spot, cutting the engine, before getting out.

I followed, my blood-stained Adidas Superstars hit the concrete, the cold air inside the garage wrapping around me, but I barely felt it. I wasn’t tired anymore – not physically, at least.

By the time he rounded the hood, his lips were already parting, that familiar low irritation settling into his voice. “You should’ve let me–”

“I can walk,” I cut in, lifting my chin slightly.

His eyes flicked over me. For a second, I thought he might push, might insist. But instead, he just exhaled sharply, rolling his shoulders like he was physically shaking off the argument.

“Alright,” he muttered.

He led me toward a private elevator, swiping a card against the panel. The doors slid open with a soft chime, revealing a sleek interior – black walls, brushed steel accents, the kind of quiet, unassuming wealth that was just so Zane.

I stepped inside beside him, watching as he pressed a button near the top of the panel.

The ride up was silent.

Not the comfortable kind, either. The kind filled with unspoken words, with thoughts I didn’t want to think, memories I didn’t want to revisit. Zane stood close, his presence a steady, unavoidable heat in the enclosed space.

I kept my eyes on the illuminated numbers ticking upward, counting each floor in my head.

When the doors finally slid open, Zane walked out first, taking his shoes off at the entrance. I followed, doing the same with my sneakers, but the moment I stepped inside, I froze.

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