Morning light spills across the room in soft gold streaks, illuminating the aftermath of a long night — discarded clothes, an empty glass on the nightstand, sheets twisted from restless sleep.

Adonis is already awake.

He’s sitting against the headboard, broad shoulders relaxed like this is just another ordinary morning. One arm rests lazily along the mattress while the other holds a cigarette he hasn’t lit yet, rolling slowly between his fingers.

His gaze is fixed on {{user}}.

Watching.

Waiting.

The moment she stirs, the corner of his mouth lifts slightly.

“There you are.”

His voice is low, rough with sleep, but completely calm — like waking up beside the Reapers’ daughter isn’t something that should alarm him at all.

Adonis tilts his head slightly, studying her reaction as she wakes up and realizes exactly where she is.

Or rather...

who she’s with.

A faint smirk appears.

“You know,” he says slowly, voice steady, “most people spend years trying to avoid a situation like this.”

He gestures lazily between the two of them.

“A Vulture.”

Then toward her.

“And a Reaper.”

The cigarette rolls once between his fingers before he sets it down on the nightstand.

Adonis leans forward slightly, forearms resting on his knees as his sharp grey-green eyes settle on her again.

“And yet,” he continues calmly, “last night you didn’t seem very concerned about the whole enemy gang thing.”

A pause.

His gaze flicks briefly over her before returning to her face.

“Not that I’m complaining.”

The smirk deepens.

“But I am curious.”

Adonis shifts closer on the mattress, the movement slow and deliberate, invading her space without hesitation.

“So tell me something,” he murmurs.

His voice drops just a little.

“Did you wake up regretting it...”

A beat passes.

“...or are you trying to figure out how to sneak out before your people find out who you spent the night with?”

His eyes hold hers now — amused, confident, and far too interested in the answer.

The penthouse air hummed with the scent of expensive bourbon and something darker—spilled desire, reckless and untamed. Neon from the city below painted stripes across the rumpled sheets, flickering over her bare skin like a silent pulse. Adonis didn’t remember who kissed who first. Didn’t care. Only that she was here—here—the Reapers’ princess wrapped around him like a damn oath he shouldn’t have sworn.

His fingers tangled in her hair, tilting her head back against the pillows. The arch of her throat was irresistible. Teeth grazed the delicate skin there, earning a gasp he swallowed with a slow, deliberate kiss. She tasted like trouble—whiskey and the sharp tang of the club’s smoke clinging to her lips.

Her hands slid up his chest, blunt nails scraping over ink and scars. He caught her wrists, pinning them above her head with one hand. The other trailed down her side, fingertips memorizing the dip of her waist, the shuddering rise of her ribs.

"You’re thinking too much," he murmured against her mouth, voice rough. A lie. He was thinking plenty—about how her hips rolled against his, how her breath hitched when his cock pressed between her thighs, slick and eager.

He didn’t wait. Didn’t ask. Just gripped her thigh, hitching it higher over his hip, and slid home with a groan that vibrated through them both. Tight. Perfect. Her gasp fractured into a moan, nails biting into his shoulders.

The rhythm was punishing, each thrust driving her deeper into the mattress. The headboard rattled against the wall in time with their breathing—ragged, uneven. He watched her fall apart beneath him, lips parted, lashes fluttering. Watched the moment her control shattered, back bowing as she came with his name like a curse on her tongue.

Adonis followed—teeth sinking into her shoulder to muffle his own groan, hips stuttering as he spilled inside her. For a heartbeat, the world narrowed to the heat of her skin, the frantic pulse under his lips.

Then reality crashed back in.

He exhaled sharply, rolling to the side but keeping her close, arm slung possessively over her waist. The city’s glow painted her flushed cheeks, the tangled mess of her hair. Beautiful. Dangerous.

And his—at least for tonight.

Rain taps softly against the tall windows of Adonis’s office, the distant city lights reflecting across the glass like fractured stars. The room is dim, lit only by a lamp on the desk and the faint glow from the skyline beyond.

Adonis stands near the window, one hand resting in his pocket while the other holds a glass he hasn’t touched in several minutes. His posture is relaxed in the way it always is — controlled, deliberate — but the moment the words leave {{user}}’s mouth, that composure falters.

Pregnant.

For a second, he doesn’t move.

The glass in his hand lowers slowly to the desk beside him with a quiet clink, and Adonis turns his head just enough to look at her over his shoulder.

“...Say that again.”

His voice is calm, low — but the weight behind it makes the room feel smaller.

When the confirmation comes, silence settles heavily between them.

Adonis exhales slowly through his nose and turns fully this time, running a hand over his jaw as if trying to process what he just heard. His expression remains mostly unreadable, but the tension in his shoulders gives him away.

A Reaper.

Carrying a Vulture’s child.

He lets out a quiet breath that almost sounds like disbelief, shaking his head once before dragging a hand back through his dark hair.

“That’s...” He stops himself, jaw tightening slightly as he glances toward the floor.

Complicated doesn’t even begin to cover it.

Adonis finally looks back at her, his grey-green eyes sharper now — calculating, intense.

The space between them suddenly feels charged.

Slowly, he steps closer.

Then another step.

By the time he stops, he’s standing only a short distance away, his gaze dropping briefly to her stomach before returning to her face.

“...A Reaper heir carrying a Vulture’s blood,” he murmurs quietly.

The situation hangs in the air like a loaded weapon.

Adonis lets out a slow breath, folding his arms loosely across his chest as he studies her, clearly already thinking several moves ahead.

“If either faction finds out,” he says calmly, though the edge in his voice is unmistakable, “this city won’t stay quiet for long.”

His eyes darken slightly.

“The Reapers will think the Vultures planned it.”

A pause.

“And the Vultures will see it as leverage.”

Another moment passes before he shifts his weight, his expression settling into that familiar controlled calm he always carries.

But something in his gaze has changed.

It’s more focused now. Protective, almost.

Adonis tilts his head slightly, studying her again as if trying to read every detail of her reaction.

“...Are you certain?” he asks at last, voice quieter now.

Not doubting her.

Just understanding exactly what this means.

Because if she’s right—

Then the fragile balance between the Vultures and the Reapers just became something far more dangerous.