Page 90 of Siren

12 Hours Later — Madrid

Her hotel was a palace tucked behind a wall of ivy and quiet elegance. Marble floors. Gold-trimmed elevators. The kind of place you only stayed when the label wanted the press to whisper about the opulence and the star they’d built.

Security—not the guys we had in Pittsburgh—stopped me at the door.

“I’m on her list,” I said, wondering why the fuck they didn’t know who I was. I might not be Sienna, but I wasn’t no chump. Still, I got it. They had jobs to do.

One of them checked the iPad and nodded. “Suite. She hasn’t left all day.”

They escorted me to the top floor, then stepped back.

I knocked once. The door opened slowly.

She stood barefoot in a robe, curls loose, eyes swollen from sleep—or tears. Maybe both. Her mouth parted like she wasn’t sure I was real.

“Raj…”

“I’m here.”

She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around me, face pressed to my chest. And then she broke.

No sobs. Just that soft, bone-deep trembling that happens when someone finally stops pretending they’re fine.

I carried her inside, set my bag down, and held her on the bed. Clothes still on. Shoes still tied. Just holding her. My hands moved in slow, steady circles across her back until her breathing evened out.

She looked up, lashes wet.

“I’m so tired.”

“I know.”

“I don’t want to do this alone anymore.”

“You don’t have to.”

She searched my face like she needed to be sure.

“What now?”

I reached up, brushed her loose hair behind her ear.

“Now we stop surviving around the life we want. We build it.”

“Even if the label doesn’t understand?”

“They don’t have to,” I said. “We do. Plus you and me are the stars. They’ll figure it out.”

She leaned in. Kissed me soft. Long. Her hands cradling my jaw like she was afraid I’d disappear again.

We undressed each other without urgency. No rush, no hunger. Just reverence.

It wasn’t sex. It was sanctuary.

Skin to skin. Breath to breath. We curled under the covers like the quiet itself was ether. Her body fit against mine like it had been waiting for this stillness.

She fell asleep first.

Curled up against me, her breathing soft again.

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