My breath caught in my throat as I quickly set the letter back inside the box, heart thudding like a drum in my chest. I froze, praying I hadn't made a sound. No creak of the floorboards, no rustle of paper. Maybe if I stayed still enough, I could pretend I hadn't been here at all.

  The footsteps were getting louder, and closer. Jax was almost at the top of the stairs.

  Shit.

  I scrambled toward the corner of the room, pressing myself behind the door and into the shadows. My fingers curled around the edge of the frame, tight and trembling, pulse racing so loud it drowned out everything else. I held my breath, listening.

  The footsteps stopped just outside the door.

  For one agonizing second, there was nothing. No sound except for my own shallow breathing and the pounding in my ears. I could hear him muttering something under his breath, and for a split second, I wanted to roll my eyes. Typical Jax. Always making things harder than they had to be. Of course, I couldn't just snoop and get out without running into him.

  But then, mercifully, the footsteps moved again. Fading.

  He's walking away.

  I didn't move. Not yet. I waited, barely daring to breathe. My hands were still shaking. I clutched the doorframe tighter and counted the seconds, willing myself to stay still. The letter, the box, it all weighed heavy in my thoughts, but I couldn't let myself spiral now.

  Not when I was still so close to getting caught.

  Once the silence settled again, wrapping the room in stillness, I finally exhaled. My body rexed just a little.

  But as I straightened, ready to slip out and pretend none of this had happened, I froze.

  Jax was standing in the doorway.

  His hand still rested on the knob, and his gaze was locked on me. I couldn't read his expression. He wasn't smiling. He wasn't smirking. He just... stared.

  Time stretched thin between us, taut and unmoving. My heart stuttered in my chest.

  Did he know?

  I opened my mouth to speak anything but the words wouldn't come. I just stood there, eyes flicking from the floor to his face. He looked different. Not pyful. Not cocky. For a fleeting second, something serious flickered behind his eyes. But it passed too fast for me to be sure.

  "Well," he said at st, voice casual but edged with something else. "Thought you were done with this kind of thing. But... here we are."

  I forced myself to stand straighter, shaking off the panic curling up my spine. I wasn't about to admit anything.

  "I was just looking for something," I muttered, too quickly, too defensive.

  That earned a flicker of a smirk. Just a small one, but it made my skin prickle. He didn't answer right away, just studied me with that tilted-head look of his, like I was some kind of puzzle he hadn't quite solved.

  "Be more careful next time," he said, his voice lighter now, but not quite pyful. There was something tucked beneath it. Curiosity, maybe. Or something else I couldn't pce.

  Then he stepped back, hand leaving the doorknob. "You want to sit down? You're not looking so great."

  I hesitated, searching his face, trying to read between the lines. Something had shifted, and I didn't know what it was, but I felt it all the same.

  "Yeah, sure," I said quietly, unsure even as the words left my mouth.

  I moved toward the chair near the window and sat, back to him. I ran a hand through my hair, trying to untangle the thoughts still cwing at the edges of my mind.

  Behind me, I could hear him opening a drawer and pcing something on the table. I didn't look. Just the sound of him being there stirred something weird in my chest. Something warm and uncomfortable.

  Then his voice came, softer this time. "You good?"

  I almost ughed. Was I good? I hadn't been good in a long time. But I wasn't about to say that out loud.

  "I'm fine," I said, keeping it clipped. Solid. I gnced at him for a moment, then looked away again.

  I leaned forward in the chair, elbows resting on my knees, my fingers itched. Not from guilt. Not exactly. But from something else I couldn't name. Something like... regret. I shouldn't have gone through his things.

  I heard the clink of gss; the soft sound of liquid being poured. I could practically feel his presence shifting around the room, that same casual confidence he always carried. But it was quieter now. More... restrained.

  Then, the soft thud of a cup nding on the table beside me.

  I turned my head slightly, just enough to see the chipped mug he'd set down near my elbow. Tea. Or what passed for tea in this part of town.

  I blinked, caught off guard. "I didn't know you had the mothering instinct."

  He didn't ugh, but there was a faint glimmer in his eye when I gnced up at him. "Don't push it," he said. "That's the st of my stash. Thought you could use it more than me."

  That made something shift in my chest again. I hated it. This softness. This quiet kind of care. It was easier when he was being a smug bastard.

  I picked up the cup anyway. The warmth seeped into my fingers, grounding me.

  "I thought you were out for the day," I said eventually, my voice quieter than I meant it to be.

  He raised an eyebrow. "I was. Pns changed."

  "Because of me?"

  "Because someone decided to break into my room," he said, voice light, but not sharp. "Figured I should stay home before my pce went up in fmes."

  I rolled my eyes, more out of habit than anything else. "It wasn't your room I was looking for."

  He tilted his head, amused. "No? Could've fooled me, the way you were crouched over my stuff like a little thief."

  I stiffened. "I'm not—"

  "Rex," he cut in, voice softening again. "I didn't say that like it was a bad thing."

  I narrowed my eyes at him. "That supposed to be funny?"

  He smiled, slow and easy. "Wouldn't dare."

  I hated how that smile always seemed to dig under my skin. Like he knew me. Like he saw me more than I wanted him to.

  "You're not gonna ask?" I said after a beat, not looking at him. "About why I was in here?"

  A pause.

  Then his voice, low. "Would it matter if I did?"

  I turned to face him, slowly. He was leaning against the wall now, arms crossed, watching me with that same unreadable look from earlier. Except this time, it wasn't cold. It wasn't even suspicious. Just... patient.

  Gods, that was worse.

  "I don't know," I admitted, voice low. "Maybe."

  He studied me for a long moment, walking toward the window. He didn't get too close, just stood beside me, looking out into the same nothing.

  "I figured you'd come around eventually," he said. "Curiosity always did get the better of you. Like a moth to a fme, or a thief to locked doors."

  "Is that why you left it where I could find it?"

  That earned me a small smirk. "Maybe."

  "Ass."

  "Compliment accepted."

  I snorted, despite myself. The tea was bitter and lukewarm, but I sipped it anyway. The silence returned, but this time, I wasn't fighting it.

  I gnced at him again, and for a moment, I almost asked. About the letter. About the name I saw. About what the hell it meant. But something held me back.

  Not yet.

  Jax stepped away from the window, stretching his arms behind his head like nothing in the world weighed on him. "Oh, by the way," he said over his shoulder, his voice slipping back into that infuriatingly smug drawl, "I told Rogan you're not making your shift today."

  I blinked, cup halfway to my lips. "You what?"

  "Don't worry," he added quickly, turning to face me with a zy grin. "I told him you were sick. Deathly pale, high fever, barely able to stand. Real dramatic stuff. Almost had me convinced."

  "I'm not sick," I muttered, setting the cup down with a dull thud. "I was gonna go."

  He crossed the room in a few easy strides, pcing one hand firmly on the back of my chair before I could stand. The other hovered near the table, his body leaning just enough to make the space feel smaller. Not in a threatening way but enough to make my skin prickle.

  "Yeah, and you're not going," he said, voice smooth like velvet draped over a bde. "You look like you've been hit by a cart and dragged halfway across the docks."

  I narrowed my eyes, trying to ignore how close he was. "That your way of saying I look tired?"

  "No," he said, smirking. "That's my way of saying sit your ass down before you fall over."

  I stiffened, suddenly aware of how he'd bracketed me in with ease. One hand behind me, the other resting just inches from mine. My pulse gave a tiny, traitorous skip.

  Still, I didn't move. I refused to give him the satisfaction. I kept my face carefully neutral, even as my fingers curled slightly around the edge of the table.

  I hated how effortlessly he made bossing me around sound like a favor. Even worse, I hated how my body reacted, like some na?ve apprentice caught in a spell. But the worst part? He was right.

  He broke the silence again, annoyingly rexed. "Arty's gonna stop by ter."

  I blinked. "Arty?"

  "Mhm. Said she wanted to see you."

  My brow creased. "She knows you?"

  Jax grinned without opening his eyes. "Everyone knows me."

  I didn't smile. "No, I mean—how do you two even know each other?"

  That did it.

  There was a pause. His eyes opened now, just slightly, gncing at me with that familiar spark of mischief. His grin widened like I'd just handed him a pte of gold coins wrapped in compliments. I already regretted asking.

  "Oh? That interest in my personal life suddenly blooming, Red?" he said, eyes dancing. "Is this jealousy?"

  My eyes narrowed. "Don't ftter yourself."

  He chuckled, standing with his arms crossed over his chest. "You're the one poking around in my room and asking about my social life. Starting to think you do care."

  I groaned audibly. "You're insufferable."

  He nodded solemnly. "It's a talent."

  I marched toward him, jabbing a finger into his chest. "Answer the question. Why do you know Arty? She is a noble."

  "Who knows, maybe I'm a noble too." he said with exaggerated mystery.

  I snorted. "You live in a second-floor loft that smells like stale rum."

  "Ah, the noble life," he sighed wistfully. "Lavish."

  I narrowed my eyes, unconvinced. "It's just... she's not the kind of person who usually hangs around thieves."

  "Ah, but she does hang around one in particur," he said with a theatrical sigh. "It's a tragic tale, really. Noble girl with a heart too big, runs into a charming rogue with a devil-may-care smile, sparks fly, secrets are shared, dangerous escapades ensue..."

  "Jax."

  He ughed, clearly enjoying himself. "Alright, alright. The truth? I met her a few years back during one of her little 'adventures.' You know how caged nobles get. They're cooped up, restricted by their pretty little cages, all rules and expectations. So, they get the itch. They wander. And when they wander, they get into trouble. I happened to be there when she did."

  I blinked, surprised. "You saved her?"

  "Technically, yes," he said with a shrug, his tone light. "But she'd never admit it. She insists we 'handled it together.'" His voice softened slightly, though it was still teasing.

  I tilted my head, processing this. "And you just stayed in touch?"

  "She insisted," Jax said nonchantly. "I'm good at getting into trouble, and she's good at pretending she shouldn't enjoy it."

  I exhaled, a reluctant ugh escaping me. "Gods. That actually tracks."

  "Anyway," he said, his voice taking on a more pyful, casual tone as he turned back toward me, a rusted tin in hand, "Arty's gonna be here ter. Might want to fix your hair or something."

  I narrowed my eyes at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

  "Oh, nothing," he said, his grin widening with that infuriating brand of innocence he wore like armor. "Just saying you look like someone who slept in a warehouse full of regrets. Not that I'm judging."

  My immediate response was to grab the nearest cushion and throw it at his head. He dodged it effortlessly, that ugh of his sliding under my skin with its usual smugness.

  "Better," he said, his grin sharp and teasing. "That's the Dawn I know. Now you look like you're about to start a riot in a tavern, not curl up in some sad little corner with a cup of bitter tea."

  I shot him a dark look, but the words were already out of my mouth before I could stop them. "Keep talking, and I'll start regretting ever staying here."

  Jax pced a hand dramatically over his heart, eyes wide in mock shock. "You wound me, Red. I'm only trying to help. All this charm—" he gestured vaguely to himself, "—and this is how you repay me?" He sighed deeply, but the pyfulness never left his voice.

  I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. "I'm not sure which is worse, your teasing or your ego."

  "Oh, definitely both," he agreed easily, still grinning, the lopsided smile spreading across his face like it was second nature.

  He was teasing. It was annoying. But it felt normal. Familiar.

  Like slipping back into a rhythm I hadn't realized I'd missed until now.

  I'm starting to realize how grateful I am for this cheeky thief.

  But of course... he doesn't have to know that.