Celia hurried down the steps of her office building, her thoughts in a whirlwind. The long hours of planning for the gala had left her physically exhausted, but it was nothing compared to the emotional turmoil bubbling within her. Ezra's presence in her life again was stirring up feelings she had fought so hard to suppress.
The streets of New York were alive with the usual evening rush, cars honking, people bustling, but Celia felt like she was in a bubble—her senses dull, her mind a storm. She clutched her bag tightly as she walked, her mind replaying the moment when she had looked into Ezra's eyes during the event. The same eyes she had once fallen in love with—full of power and mystery—now reflected guilt, pain, and something else she wasn't ready to name.
As she rounded a corner, her phone buzzed with a new message. She didn't need to check to know who it was from. Ezra had been trying to contact her, sending messages that were a mix of apologies, warnings, and pleas.
Stay away from me, Ezra, she thought. Celia kept walking, her heels clicking on the pavement. Her apartment wasn't far, and she just wanted to get home, to hide from the world for a few hours, away from the chaos that had once again invaded her life.
But the quiet she craved would have to wait.
As she approached her building, something in the air changed. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled, and instinctively, she slowed her pace. Her eyes darted around, scanning the shadows cast by the streetlights. There was a figure leaning against a car in the alley near her building, smoking a cigarette. Another shadowy figure lurked near the entrance, too still, too suspicious.
Her heart began to race, a sudden spike of adrenaline shooting through her veins. She recognized the feeling all too well—it was the same sensation she had before every moment of danger in her past life with Ezra. Her feet quickened, but her mind raced even faster.
As she neared the door to her apartment building, two men stepped out from the shadows, their faces obscured by hoods.
"Ms. Carter," one of them called in a calm, casual tone that belied the menace in his stance. "We need to have a little talk."
Celia froze, her eyes darting toward the apartment door just a few feet away. Her heart pounded—no, thudded in her chest—as she calculated her options. She was no stranger to danger, not after everything she had lived through. But she was alone, and these men meant business.
Before she could react, one of the men made a move toward her. She stepped back, her pulse spiking, but it was too late. The other man had circled around, cutting off her escape.
This is it, she thought. They had finally come for her. She had been warned—by Ezra, by Gabriel—but she had ignored them. Now, she was paying the price.
Just as panic started to seize her, a familiar black car roared down the street, screeching to a halt beside her. In an instant, the door flew open, and Ezra stepped out, his expression a mask of cold fury.
"You made a big mistake coming after her," Ezra growled, his voice low and dangerous as he stepped between Celia and the gunmen. The men hesitated, clearly recognizing who they were dealing with.
Celia's breath caught in her throat. The tension in the air was palpable, the streetlights casting long shadows on Ezra's imposing figure. His presence sent a shiver down her spine, and for a moment, she didn't know whether she felt relief or fear.
One of the men reached into his coat, clearly going for a weapon, but before he could pull it out, Ezra moved with lightning speed, slamming the man against the brick wall. The impact echoed in the narrow alley, the man groaning as Ezra pinned him.
"Back off," Ezra snarled, his hand wrapped around the man's throat. "If you want to live, you'll walk away now."
The second man hesitated, clearly weighing his options. But Ezra didn't give him a chance to make a move. He shoved the first man away, taking a step toward the other one, his voice lethal. "Go back to Ferrara and tell him this ends now. Celia is off-limits."
Without another word, the two men scrambled back into the shadows, disappearing into the night. The tension slowly eased, but Celia's pulse still raced.
For a moment, there was silence. Celia felt frozen, her mind catching up with what had just happened. Ezra turned to face her, his expression softening, his eyes searching hers for any sign of gratitude or understanding.
But instead of thanks, all he saw was fear and confusion. Celia took a step back, her breath shallow.
"Are you okay?" Ezra asked, his voice gentle now, though his posture remained tense, ready for any further threats.
Celia couldn't speak. She could only nod, though her body trembled with the aftershock of adrenaline. Her eyes flicked between Ezra and the alley, replaying the last few minutes in her mind. He had just saved her life, but all she could think about was how he was the reason she had been in danger in the first place.
She couldn't do this. Not again. Not with him.
Before Ezra could say another word, Celia turned and bolted. She ran, her heart racing, her heels clattering on the pavement. She didn't care where she was going; she just needed to get away—from the danger, from the memories, and most of all, from Ezra.
"Wait, Celia!" Ezra's voice echoed behind her, but she didn't stop. She couldn't.
She sprinted through the streets, her mind a blur, knowing only one thing for certain: she couldn't let herself get drawn back into Ezra's world. Not after everything she had fought to escape.
She didn't stop running until she reached her apartment door, her breath ragged and her body trembling. Only then did she pause, leaning against the door, her chest heaving.
Ezra had saved her. But that didn't change the fact that her life was still entwined with his—and the danger that came with it. And no matter what he said or did, she couldn't afford to forget that.
As she stood there, trying to calm her pounding heart, one thought echoed in her mind: I have to stay away from him. Even if it kills me.