Before Rishaan could even think of intervening, Ruaan was already moving. His steps were sharp, predatory, each one echoing a storm coiled tight inside him. Every muscle in his body screamed impatience, every nerve thrummed with a dangerous, molten jealousy. By the time his feet carried him next to Kiara and Vardan, his dark eyes were black with intent, a stormy warning in their depths.

Kiara and Vardan were about to step onto the escalator, completely unaware of the approaching hurricane. Ruaan’s shoulder collided with Vardan’s side—careful, precise, controlled. The shove was perfectly calibrated: enough to send Vardan stumbling forward, yet safe enough to maintain Ruaan’s balance.