Victor parked the car and stepped out, gently taking Isadora''s hand in his.


    Together, they crossed to the ss elevator and rode all the way up, the city lights flickering further and further below. When the doors slid open, they stepped out onto the rooftop-a dazzling canopy of midnight blue stretching above them, studded with bursts of fireworks and a thousand glittering stars, as if someone had sewn diamonds into velvet.


    The rooftop itself felt almost magical. Balloons and vibrant roses framed a cozy, intimate viewing deck-just for the two of them.


    Victor produced a small first-aid kit from somewhere-Isadora had no idea where he''d been hiding it. He took out a cotton swab, soaked it in antiseptic, and reached for her, careful and deliberate as he dabbed at the red, swollen cut at the corner of her mouth.


    The sting was sharp. Isadora flinched, instinctively turning her face away, her voice barely a whisper. "That hurts..."


    Victor frowned, his tone gruff but his touch impossibly gentle. "Hurts now, does it? Funny-why didn''t you dodge when Prescott hit you?" His voice was low, rough around the edges, but his movements softened even further.


    Isadora looked away, frustration clouding her eyes. How could she have known Prescott would just walk up and p her in front of everyone? Even if she''d shouted, even if she''d fought back, it wouldn''t have mattered. A woman''s strength was no match for a grown man''s.


    Prescott was impulsive and hotheaded, always ready to defend his own-but only when it came to Pearl. Just thinking about it dimmed the light in Isadora''s usually


    bright eyes.


    Victor finished bandaging her split lip and said, "Next time, I''m taking you to boxing lessons."


    "Boxing?" Isadora looked up at him, a little incredulous. "You mean... two against one? Are you any good?"


    Victor''s mouth quirked with the hint of a smile, his voice dry as he replied, "What''s this? I swoop in like a knight in shining armor and your first thought is to turn on me?"


    That wasn''t what she meant at all. At the party, Victor had fought for her. She remembered how effortlessly he''d hauled Prescott out, his forearm taut with muscle, every line in his body radiating cold, dangerous energy that seemed to freeze the air around him. It was violent, yes-but in that moment, she''d thought he was impossibly, devastatingly handsome.


    Now she finally understood why people always whispered about the Capitol heir''s boxing skills. If only she could be half as strong as him, she might finally be able to stand up to someone like Prescott.


    Victor finished tending to her injuries, then flopped back onto a lounge chair, one arm tossed behind his head, the otherzily ying with her slender, silken fingers.


    Suddenly, his phone rang.


    He nced at Isadora, then answered with her right there. "What''s up?"


    It was his grandmother, Deanna Fitzgerald. Her voice, warm and worried, drifted through the speaker. "My dear boy, I heard you''ve been working yourself to the bone at the branch office-barely sleeping, flying back in such a rush! Fifteen hours on a ne, goodness. The staff told me you didn''t even go home to rest after younded. I''m worried sick about you, darling. You can''t keep running yourself ragged like this."


    Isadora was close enough to hear every word. She remembered Victor saying he''d be away on business for a week. Yet here he was, back after just four days- if you counted the flights and all the work he still had to do, he must have barely slept at all.


    She looked at him quietly, taking in his profile—the strong jaw, the sharp nose, the sculpted lines of his face, every feature carved with the same careful precision. But there was a shadow under his eyes, a hint of exhaustion at the corners of his brow.


    He''d rushed back for her birthday. The realization stung, flooding her chest with warmth and something achingly bittersweet-it was almost too much to hold in. Victor hung up the phone.


    Isadora quickly turned away so he wouldn''t notice her eyes growing wet.


    After a moment, her voice came out rough, barely above a whisper. "Thank you. For tonight."


    Thank you for standing up for me so fiercely.


    Thank you for choosing my side, no matter what.


    Thank you for the fireworks.


    Thank you...


    Isadora, truth be told, was easily moved. She''d fallen for Magnus once, simply because he''d helped her out with some trouble at school. For women starved of affection, even the smallest kindness could seep straight into the heart-no matter if itsted only a day.


    Victor arched a brow, slipped an arm around her waist, and pulled her close. Then, with a swift motion, he rolled over, pinning her beneath him.


    His eyes, dark and intent, locked onto hers, and his voice was a low, maic rumble. "Sorry, but a simple ''thank you'' isn''t nearly enough."