Late nights became their sanctuary - quiet moments stolen between expectation and obligation.

At first, the conversations were safe. Surface-level. Then, slowly, walls began to crack.

They talked about everything except the inevitable - the pull between them, the way their eyes lingered too long, how Raven's breath hitched when Ryle stood too close.

Tonight, on the Nixon estate balcony, the silence broke.

The Nixon Estate Balcony, Midnight

The air was thick with the scent of night jasmine, the city stretching out beneath them in a glimmering sea of lights. The world should have felt expansive, boundless. Instead, it felt impossibly small.

Ryle leaned against the marble railing, hands curled into fists as he stared down at the city. He exhaled slowly, something unspoken pressing against the quiet.

Ryle: "You ever think about disappearing?"

Raven, who had been sipping from a delicate crystal glass, paused mid-sip. Her dark eyes flicked to him, sharp, assessing.

Raven: (arches a brow) "From the city?"

Ryle shook his head, the barest hint of a rueful smile tugging at his lips.

Ryle: "From all of it. Expectations. Rules."

Something in his voice made her heart lurch - not in the familiar way when he was too close, when she could smell the cologne clinging to his skin - but in a way that made her chest feel tight.

Raven hesitated, setting her glass down on the balcony table. She had never allowed herself to ask that question - not out loud.

Raven: "?I used to. Then I stopped believing I could."

Her voice was quieter than she intended. He turned toward her then, fully, his gaze unreadable.

Ryle: (softly) "You don't have to live a life someone else chose for you."

She exhaled sharply, turning away. She had heard those words before, from strangers, from rebels, from ghosts of past dreams. Hearing them from him was different. Too personal.

Raven: "You say that like it's easy."

She felt him step closer, the warmth of him brushing against the edges of her awareness. He didn't touch her, but it felt like he could.

Ryle: (softly) "I never said it was easy. I said it was possible."

The weight of his words settled over her, heavier than any responsibility she had ever carried.

Her fingers curled against the cool marble railing, grounding herself in something solid. But when she finally dared to look at him, the ground beneath her no longer felt stable.

Raven: (half-whisper) "And what if it's too late?"

Ryle: "Then we make it not too late."

She let out a breath, one that sounded dangerously close to a laugh but wasn't quite.

The space between them was vanishing, heat lingering in the air.

Their gazes locked - an unspoken battle between logic and longing.

And in that moment, Raven wasn't thinking about duty. She was thinking about him.