Sera had watched Elias Cross for a long time.

Long enough to know his patterns.

Long enough to hope—foolishly—that this time would be different.

But people were predictable.

And Elias was no different.

She stood at the edge of the rooftop, her coat fluttering slightly in the cold air, eyes locked on the scene below. She didn’t shiver. She didn’t blink too often. She had stopped doing those things a long time ago.

There were certain habits you lost when you had lived too long.

When time didn’t move the way it should.

When pieces of yourself had been carved away and sold for truths you no longer remembered.

But she remembered him.

Elias Cross.

Not for who he was.

Not for who he had been.

But for the simple, undeniable fact that he had stood here before.

Maybe not in this alley. Maybe not in this life.

But always before Valen.

Always walking the same path.

And always falling.

She knew this story.

She had watched it unfold too many times.

And yet—she was still here.

Still watching.

Still hoping, even when she knew better.

Because some part of her—some part of whatever was left of her—wanted to believe that this time would be different.

That Elias would be different.

But as she watched him reach for that card, she felt the old, familiar ache settle into her chest.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

A grief without a name.

Because she already knew the truth.

Elias was already caught.

—

She wasn’t sure why she cared.

She wasn’t even sure if caring was the right word for it.

She had lived too long to be sentimental.

Too long to hold onto things that didn’t last.

But there was something about Elias that gnawed at her.

Not because he was special.

Not because he was different.

But because he was familiar.

She didn’t remember her own past.

Not all of it.

Whatever she had been—**whoever she had been—**had been taken from her, one deal at a time.

But she remembered pieces of him.

Versions of him.

Fragments of different times, different faces, different names—but always him.

Always chasing after something.

Always thinking he could outplay the game.

Always thinking he could win.

And every time, she had been here.

Watching.

Trying to stop him.

And every time, she had failed.

—

Below, Valen turned slightly.

And looked directly at her.

Sera didn’t flinch.

She didn’t freeze or gasp or react at all.

She had stopped doing those things a long time ago.

Instead, she simply stared back, unblinking.

Valen’s expression didn’t shift.

Not quite a smirk.

Not quite anything.

Just watching.

Waiting.

Sera’s nails pressed into her palms, hard enough to ground her.

Then, with slow, measured steps, she dropped from the rooftop.

She landed silently, boots hitting the pavement without a sound.

Valen turned fully to face her now, hands tucked into his pockets, his head tilted slightly.

"You’re late," he said.

Sera rolled her eyes. "You’re predictable."

Valen let out a soft chuckle. "Am I?"

She took a step closer, resisting the urge to grab him, shake him, demand answers he would never give.

"You knew he’d come back."

Valen’s gaze was steady. "They always do."

Sera’s stomach twisted. "You didn’t have to do this."

Valen didn’t answer right away.

Instead, he studied her.

Measured her.

The same way he measured everyone.

Then, finally, he said, "Didn’t I?"

Sera’s hands curled into fists.

"Leave him alone," she said.

Valen’s lips quirked. "I don’t force anyone, Sera. You know that."

She did.

That was the worst part.

Elias had chosen to take the card.

Valen had only made sure it was there to be taken.

Sera exhaled sharply. "You don’t have to collect him."

Valen raised an eyebrow. "But I do."

Sera’s breath hitched.

Because he wasn’t lying.

And that—that was what terrified her the most.

"You’ve played this game long enough," she said, voice low.

"So have you."

Sera’s nails bit into her palm.

She had known Valen for longer than she cared to admit.

She had seen him take different names.

Seen him collect countless debts, countless lost souls.

She had tried to stop him before.

And failed.

Every. Single. Time.

But Elias—

Elias was different.

She had to believe that.

Or else, what was the point?

Sera stepped closer.

Valen didn’t move.

"Let him go," she said softly.

Valen smiled.

It wasn’t mocking.

It wasn’t cruel.

It was patient.

The way a spider might smile at a fly tangled in its web.

"You know I can’t do that."

Sera swallowed.

Her pulse pounded.

She had come here to warn him off, to push back.

But Valen never needed to fight.

He never needed to argue.

He just waited.

And let people trap themselves.

"You always think you can stop me," he said, almost gently. "And yet, here we are."

Sera clenched her teeth, trying to keep herself steady.

For a second, just a second, her composure cracked.

Her breath caught in her throat.

She had seen this before.

She had seen Elias fall, again and again.

She had seen what happened when people stepped too deep into the web.

And she didn’t know how many times she could watch it happen again.

Her hands shook, just for a fraction of a second.

Valen saw it.

Of course, he saw it.

His smile didn’t falter.

But something behind his gaze flickered.

Not amusement.

Not cruelty.

Something close to curiosity.

Something that said, What if this time really is different?

Sera didn’t care.

She was going to break this cycle.

She had to.

She took a slow breath, steadying herself.

Then, quietly, she said, "I’m going to break this cycle."

Valen’s expression remained unreadable.

Then, he stepped back.

His presence faded.

Not gone.

Just waiting.

For Elias.

For the moment he reached out.

For the inevitable.

Sera kn

ew that was what he wanted.

And she refused to let him have it.

She turned sharply, walking in the opposite direction, her fingers trembling at her sides.

She had let it go too far.

Now, she had to find Elias.

Before he stepped too deep into the web.

Before Valen decided to tighten the threads.