Page 121 of Celestial Combat

I didn’t say a word.

Didn’t need to.

I just looked at him.

And I hoped the silence was loud enough for him to choke on.

Because in that moment, the space she left behind still smelled like her perfume. The back of my neck was hot. My hands were flexing slowly in my jacket pockets.

And even though I told myself over and over again I didn’t care –

I wanted to break that guy’s fingers for ever touching her.

Before I could think anything else, the lights went out.

The lights blinked once… then died.

A hush fell over the gallery. The music stuttered out, wine glasses froze midair, and all at once, the curated ambiance shattered into static silence. Darkness swallowed the room, except for the dull, emergency glow leaking from the EXIT signs.

“KALI.”Zane’s voice sliced through the black like a wire snapping.

“I’m fine!” I yelled back, heart thudding hard in my ribs. I didn’t move. Couldn’t move. Something in the stillness felt wrong – like the gallery had taken a breath and hadn’t exhaled yet.

The low whine of a generator kicked in. The lights surged back to life, flooding the gallery in a flickering, pale wash.

Zane came into view fast – sprinting toward me, black suit moving like smoke, eyes locked on mine. He looked dangerous. Dead serious.

“Get down!” He shouted.

I frowned, confused. “Relax. Everything’s fine–”

Tires screamed outside.

The thunder of gunfire erupted, sharp and relentless. Muzzle flashes blinked like lightning in the street.

Then came the sound of shattering: the street-facing wall of glass – thick and towering – splintered in slow motion. It cracked like ice before bursting inward.

“Zane!”

He was already there.

His arms wrapped around me, and the world tilted. We hit the polished concrete floor hard – his body over mine, shielding me like armor. I could feel the raw panic in the room: heels scraping, screams echoing, art crashing from the walls.

But all I could hear was his heartbeat hammering against my mine.

I held onto the fabric of his jacket like it was a lifeline.

Glass rained down.

Seconds passed. Gunshots silenced.

And in the sudden quiet, the stink of gunpowder and fear bloomed through the air.

“You good?” His voice was low, close to my ear, voice strained but steady.

I nodded, breath caught in my throat. “Yeah.”

He shifted off me, keeping low. His hand closed around mine – warm, rough, grounding.

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