The air outside the grand estate was frigid, laced with the scent of damp earth and danger. Kieran barely had time to process what was happening before Julian yanked him into the shadowy corridors behind the ballroom.

"Who are those men?" Kieran hissed, breath coming in short bursts as they sprinted down a narrow alley.

Julian didn’t stop running. "People you don’t want to meet."

Kieran’s mind raced. Assassins? Spies? A coup? He had too many questions and no time to ask them. The sound of heavy boots echoed behind them.

Julian turned sharply, dragging Kieran into a dimly lit passage between two stone buildings. He pressed Kieran against the cold wall, a finger to his lips. "Stay quiet."

The tension between them was almost unbearable. Julian’s breath was warm against Kieran’s neck, his body too close, too solid. Kieran could feel his own heartbeat drumming wildly.

The sound of voices neared, then passed. Silence stretched between them before Julian finally eased back, offering a lopsided grin. "Well, that was exciting, wasn’t it?"

Kieran scowled. "I fail to see the humor in nearly being murdered."

Julian chuckled. "Ah, but you weren’t. Because of me." He tapped Kieran’s chest lightly before stepping back into the night. "Come on, Lord Sinclair. We have a long night ahead."

Kieran hesitated for only a moment before following. He didn’t trust Julian— but for now, he had no choice.

To be continued...