The motel sat on the far edge of the city where the highway bled into nothing—flickering neon sign half-dead, parking lot cracked and pooled with rainwater. Room 17. Cash paid at the desk, no questions, no names. Lena arrived first. Key in hand. Door unlocked. She stripped to nothing, waited on the edge of the bed in the stale glow of the bedside lamp. Rain hammered the roof like fists.
Kai walked in twenty minutes later. No greeting. Door slammed shut behind him. The lock clicked.
They collided before the echo died.
He shoved her against the door the second it closed—wood rattling in the frame. Mouth on hers, bruising. Teeth clashing. Hands everywhere—fisting her hair, gripping her throat, digging into her hips hard enough to leave tomorrow’s bruises. She bit his lip until copper bloom
