Lyra's POV
She woke with a gasp.
Sheets tangled. Hair damp. Pillow half on the floor.
And her body burning.
Not heat. Memory.
A phantom weight. A voice low in her ear.
Cassian. Her.
That marble desk.
God. The desk.
She hadn't remembered that part until sleep dragged it up. His hands flat on the surface. Her dress bunched. His mouth at her neck. Her hand in his hair, pulling too hard.
She threw back the covers. Bolted for the shower.
Cold. Sharp. Fast.
She scrubbed harder than necessary. Drenched herself in neutralizing spray. Twisted her hair tight. Buttoned a turtleneck to her chin.
In the mirror, her reflection looked pale. Tight-eyed.
Not Lyra. Not quite.
She fed Alexa, who hissed, offended. And ran.
---
The subway was elbows and exhaust.
Virelux's glass doors appeared too soon.
And then. Him.
Cassian Dorne.
In the lobby.
Stepping off the private elevator.
Her lungs seized.
She turned. Almost clipped the security desk. Head down, heart racing, she veered into the stairwell.
Don't run. Don't draw attention. Just vanish.
Nineteen flights later, breath ragged, she collapsed into her cubicle.
No one noticed.
Good.
She buried herself in work. Calendar merges. Internal memos. Anything to stay moving.
She checked her scent every ten minutes. Sprayed again. Wiped her wrists.
Invisible. Stay invisible.
She skipped lunch. Let hunger hollow out her focus. It was better than thinking.
Until, footsteps.
She knew the pattern before the voice.
"Cassian Dorne is doing a walkthrough today."
Her mug slipped. Almost shattered.
He never came up here. Not to Admin.
Layers existed between him and them. Layers she needed.
But then, he appeared.
Tall. No tie. Cufflinks. Moving like he owned the air.
He stepped into the department.
And paused.
His eyes locked on her.
—-
Cassian's POV
The Admin floor was his last stop.
A courtesy visit. Five minutes of visibility for the board. Optics.
He expected nothing.
Then, scent. Soft. Clean. Familiar in a way that halted him mid-step.
Not perfume. Not synthetic.
Not new.
His breath hitched.
It pressed low in his chest, like a memory triggered by warmth on a cold stone.
Not sharp. Just… present.
Her? No. Couldn't be.
He adjusted his cuffs.
"Mr. Dorne!" chirped a voice. Too close.
Ms. Hensley.
She appeared like a summoned assistant spell. Bright, beaming, over-rehearsed.
"Welcome! We've been so excited. Your presence has done wonders for morale. And the Nymeris deal. Visionary, really."
He gave her a nod. "Appreciated."
The scent had already thinned. But he couldn't ignore it.
He glanced down the rows.
Second cubicle from the end.
A woman, head lowered, posture careful. Turtleneck up to her chin. Dark hair pinned like she didn't want it touched. Fingers moving fast across her keyboard, avoiding notice by design.
He didn't recognize her. Not fully.
But something about her looked... hidden. Like she was surviving something.
His jaw tightened.
He looked away before she could look up.
Then he kept walking.
Five minutes. That was the plan.
But he made a mental note to ask Theo if scent logs from the gala had finally been processed.
Not because it mattered.
Just because he was… curious.
Nothing more.
—-
Lyra's POV
He was still there.
Cassian Dorne, her worst-case scenario in a tailored suit, stood not twenty feet from the copy room entrance, speaking with Dara and two department heads. The kind of low-voiced executive murmur that made the whole floor walk softer.
Her desk felt smaller than usual. The air felt thinner.
She didn't look up.
Didn't need to.
She could feel him.
Her scent-blocking routine had been… excessive today. Triple-layered: suppressant roller, neutralizing wipes, topcoat mist. Her skin tingled faintly from chemical overkill. The effect was cold, clinical. Borderline unpleasant.
That was the point.
She smelled like a hospital corridor. A sterile, scentless void.
Not an Omega. Not anything.
Her screen pinged.
> "Ms. Elmont?"
Michael Lin's voice, smooth as ever.
"Can you deliver the Q3 binders to Legal?"
They were in the copy room.
Of course they were.
She grabbed the binders, applied one last spray at her wrists, and rose slowly. Her legs carried her like scaffolding, not limbs. She straightened her sleeves. Tucked her hair. Tucked her fear.
Then turned.
---
Cassian's POV
Something in the air was… off.
Not wrong. Just sterile. Scrubbed to the bone.
He stood near the hallway to Admin, only half-listening to Dara's update. His eyes scanned the floor idly.
Then he saw her.
Not fully. Just a woman moving with rigid grace. Arms tight around a binder. Head down, steps fast but careful.
A scent followed her.
No, a non-scent.
Cold. Sharp. Almost too neutral. Synthetic sterilizer over something he couldn't reach.
He wrinkled his nose.
Whatever it was, it wasn't her.
He let it go.
---
Lyra's POV
She passed the copy room threshold. Eyes forward. Heart steady. No heat. No scent. No sound.
Cassian didn't look at her.
But it didn't matter.
Because as she stepped into the cool, humming quiet of the copier space, something behind her shifted. Like the air had pulled taut, or the atmosphere had bent to track her steps.
She didn't turn around.
Didn't breathe deep.
Just walked.
Because he couldn't see what wasn't there.
Not if she disappeared first.