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“Go on,” I say, handing her the shoes. “Show us what you’ve been working on.”

She doesn’t hesitate. She slips the shoes on, ties them with quick, nimble fingers, and moves to the center of the room. The three of us sit on the low bench along the wall, watching as she begins to dance.

There’s something almost sacred about the way she moves in this space we built for her. The mirrors reflect her from every angle, multiplying her grace. She flows through the piece she’s been perfecting: powerful, emotional, completely alive. Every extension of her leg, every controlled turn, every arch of her back feels like a private performance meant only for us.

When she finishes, she’s breathing hard, cheeks flushed, eyes bright. “I still need to work on it. I can’t quite make the leap after the third turn…” she trails off, hands twisting together because the three of us are silent for a long beat.

“You knew she could do this?” Timothy asks me, expression fixed in a state of awe.

“I go with her to dance class every day.” I shove my hands in my pockets. “I’m well aware of her talents.”

“Fuck,” DK says, standing. “That was amazing. Like a little bird dancing around or something.”

Arianette's smile is almost too wide for her face. She clasps her hands together and rises up on her toes. “Do you want to see the next part? It’s not my solo, but–”

“Yes,” I cut her off and the other two nod in agreement, sitting back on the bench. She probably can’t reconcile it, not after all the dark shit we’ve been through, but we’re all in on this girl. If this is what gives her peace, then we’ll sit here and watch her all fucking day.

It’s getting late. The studio lights cast a soft, golden glow across the polished floor as Timothy checks his watch. He’s been quiet for the last few minutes, but I can tell the day is starting to weigh on him.

“I should head back to the Maddox house,” he says. “The doctors still want me resting more than I’d like.”

DK nods, glancing at me. “We can all go.”

“No,” I say quickly, looking at Ari, who is across the room scrolling through her music; she’s been fully immersed since we got here. “You guys go ahead. I’ll bring her home once she’s ready.”

Timothy stands and crosses the room, where he kisses Arianette deeply, murmuring something against her lips that makes her smile. DK follows with his own kiss, brushing his thumb across her cheek before they both head out.

The door clicks shut behind them, leaving just the two of us in the quiet studio.

I lean back on the low bench against the wall, watching as Ari resets her music and starts running through her piece again. She moves like water–fluid and completely absorbed in the dance. I lean forward, elbows on my knees, completely captivated. Every extension of her leg, every controlled spin, every graceful arch of her back is mesmerizing. And knowing I built this space for her, that she has somewhere safe and private to create like this, settles something deep and warm beneath my breastbone.

I did the right thing.

The song swells and then fades. Ari slows to a stop in perfect time with the final note, chest rising and falling, a fine sheen of sweat glowing on her skin. She stands there for a second, breathing hard, then turns toward me with the brightest smile I’ve ever seen on her face.

She unlaces her toe shoes and kicks them off. Still catching her breath, she walks over. “I can’t believe you did all this. It’s perfect. Really perfect.”

She stops and I reach out, gently pull her between my knees. I rest my hands on her hips.

“You like it?” I ask, even though her face already tells me everything. “You sure it’s not too much?”

“I love it,” she says softly. “And no, it’s not too much. Thank you. Again.”

I shake my head, smiling up at her. “You don’t have to keep thanking me. I wanted to do something for you. Something that was just yours.” I squeeze her hips lightly. “I’ll do anything for you, Ari. You know that, right?”

Her expression softens. She cups my face with both hands, thumbs brushing over my cheeks. “I know.”

I take a slow breath, my heart suddenly pounding harder than it did during any of the intense moments earlier tonight at Noir Sanctum. The words have been haunting me for weeks, ever since that night in the tunnel, and saying them out loud feels terrifying. But I want her to hear them. I need her to hear them from me.

“I–I love you,” I manage, the words stumbling a little on the way out. My voice is rough, unsteady. “I’m in love with you, Arianette. I think I have been for a long time. I just didn’t know how to say it–I mean, I never have, so this is all new and awkward and, fuck.” I swallow back the nerves. “I love you, Nettie. For real.”

Her eyes widen, then fill with warmth. A radiant smile breaks across her face as she leans down and kisses me, slow, deep, and full of emotion. I kiss her back, and there’s no hurt or demand–no edge that usually works its way across my skin. Just me and her, tucked away in this room I built for her.

When she pulls back, her forehead rests against mine. “I love you too, Hunter,” she whispers, voice thick with emotion. “So much.”

I pull her closer, wrapping my arms around her waist as she straddles my lap on the bench. We kiss again–slower this time, savoring each other. Her hands slide into my hair, and mine run up and down her back, feeling the warmth of her skin through her shirt.

She pulls back just enough to rest her head on my shoulder, her arms looped around my neck. I press a kiss to her temple and hold her close, breathing her in.