Case didn’t wait a second longer than necessary. As soon as Bryce was out of his office and back with Rafi, he headed straight to his private elevator and down to his workshop. Once there, his first priority was the shower. He made sure his clothes were meticulously folded before they went in the locker. The blast of icy water dragged his temperature down a couple of notches.
Once he felt clear-headed enough to handle the wood, he got in a comfortable track suit and t-shirt kept for this exact purpose. He walked the length of the wood storage rack, looking to select the best piece for the carving he had in mind.
He passed the freshly storm-fallen yew - it needed to be cured, and he wanted his hands on the grain, not battling with protective gear as he worked.
Isabel had just sent him some Indian rosewood she got from her certified exotic wood source. He looked at it, turned it over in his hands, taking in the spicy-sweet floral aroma rising from it as he handled it. The tone was an intoxicating dark violet and chocolate. It was beautiful — and not right for what he needed.
He briefly stopped in front of the black walnut. He enjoyed working with the wood. It was luxurious and offered flowing, gentle patterns. Not tonight.
The sweet birch was tempting — strong, flexible — but not dark enough.
He stopped in front of the cured black cherry plank. Working with cherry wood was more like having a whispered conversation than the brutal wrestling match he had with the white oak not so long ago. It held crisp details without chipping or crushing under the tool pressure, and went exactly where he needed it to go. He needed to be in complete control — cherry was perfect for it.
***
Bryce discovered Rafi was an excellent negotiator while he waited at the bar for their drinks.
The club’s atmosphere was the right mix — music pulsing intensely enough to pull people to the dance floor, quieter pockets to breathe in. Rafi and a few people from the exec floor were waiting for him at a plush corner booth.
A few breaking-the-ice questions, getting to know a bit about them — Sylvie the floor manager was a kick-boxer, Jack the Althea division liaison, had a collection of exotic plants, Rafi was an excellent cook… He told them a bit about himself - the swimming, the love of books… There was drinking, and attempts at dancing.
Until a dancer with a quiet, irresistible pull moved into his space.
She drifted through the pulsing beat, avoiding other bodies with effortless precision, eyes on his, a slow curl of a smile on her lips. Once she reached him, her surprisingly firm fingers caught him by the sleeve, drawing him to the pulse of the floor.
He leaned in to hear her over the beat — her voice brushing against his nerves in the nicest way.
“You just gonna watch everyone else have all dat fun, yeah? Come on now, don’t be shy. A fine-lookin’ man like you shouldn’t be working dat hard to blend into the scenery, yeah… don’t tell me you scared to move a little?”
She was teasing and serious all at once. Bryce’s natural reserve evaporated under her voice and the easy, enticing way she moved against him. The crowded dance floor blurred into neon and heat.
“See? Look at dat. You got rhythm in dere somewhere, cher. You just needed somebody to pull it out of you.”
When the song ended, Rafi materialised at the edge of the dance floor, giving Bryce an amused, approving nod. He wanted to check Bryce knew how to get to his new flat before he left.
Bryce managed a nod, but his attention was already tethered. Before the exit door had chance to swing shut after Rafi, she was back, close, her hand flat against Bryce’s chest.
“Your boy’s gone home. Dat mean you ready to leave too… or you fixin’ to show me what else you got.”
R2L silent mode, he thought as his hands landed on her waist. She smiled at him in the most deliciously predatory way anyone ever had.
The transition from the club to his flat was a haze. Snapshots of light changes, temperature drop, her lips on his, breathless.
Once in the flat, his brain sprung the — hey, don’t forget, you were just dead, what if you can’t do this anymore — card on him. He was suddenly unsure. He just wanted to be with her. But what if he really couldn’t — anymore?
Her hands found him and the worries disappeared as quickly as the clothes they were wearing. She was intoxicating, demanding, and completely unapologetic in her desire.
“Mais, look at dem eyes. Shh, stop thinkin’ so much, cher. Just let go. Ah got you right where Ah want you, me.”
She shifted over him, pinning him down in breathless amusement, and any lingering doubt in his mind dissolved in the heat.
It was unrestrained, mutual, and electric. An urgent exploration that left him breathless and fiercely grateful he was able to experience it first hand.
He vaguely remembered her kissing him:
“You sleep good now, handsome. You put up a good fight tonight, yeah — just keep dat smile on your face…”
Bryce woke up to complete silence. The pre-dawn light filtering through the curtain panels highlighted the space she had slept in. The sheets were still slightly warm, and traces of her perfume lingered, but she was already gone.
Exhausted and aching in the best way, Bryce spoke quietly: “R2L active mode. Please monitor quietly and wake me up with enough time to get ready for work.”
[Acknowledged, Bryce.]
Bryce sank back into the pillows, a smile lingering as the sleep pulled him under once more.
***
Rafi got home later than planned, still buzzing with leftover static from the night. He dropped onto his sofa and opened the video call. Isabel answered almost immediately, framed by warm lamplight and the soft, lived‑in comfort of her Manila apartment.
She took one look at him and frowned.
“Eesa…” he sighed, already defeated. “You will not believe what happened today.”
She folded her arms, bracing.
“Try me.”
Rafi dragged a hand down his face.
“It was a detonation.”
Her eyebrows rose.
“A detonation?”
“Yes. A full‑scale, top‑floor, Cassian Thorne detonation.”
“Okay,” she said, settling back. “Start talking.”
So he did.
He told her about the meeting — how Cassian had risen from behind his desk like a storm front, how Bryce had instinctively shifted into a defensive stance, how Slate had walked straight past Cassian and claimed Bryce like he’d been waiting for him.
Isabel’s mouth fell open.
“No way.”
“Yes way!” Rafi insisted. “Slate wrapped himself around Bryce’s legs. Sat on his foot. Chuffed at him. Like—like he’d found his favourite human.”
“And Cassian?” she asked, already smiling.
Rafi threw his hands up.
“Eesa, he froze. He looked… you know that expression Filipinos use? Like someone dumped cold water over him. He just—stopped. His whole system glitched.”
Isabel laughed, delighted.
“Oh my god. Case got humbled by a cat.”
“Humbled by a cat choosing Bryce,” Rafi corrected. “And then I—Eesa, I said I’d ‘give them a moment.’ Out loud. In front of both of them.”
She stared at him.
“No.”
“Yes!” he groaned. “And then I backed out of the room like a broken Roomba. I don’t know what happened to me.”
She laughed again, warm and wicked.
“You panicked. It’s fine. I would’ve panicked too.”
Rafi exhaled, finally able to smile.
“And then tonight… I took Bryce out. Welcome‑aboard night. Ouro Tech people everywhere. Dancing. Drinks. Good vibes.”
“Did he have fun?” she asked.
“He did. And he met a dancer.”
Isabel’s eyes sharpened.
“A dancer?”
“Yeah. I didn’t get the full story — I left them vibing pretty intensely. She seemed into him. He seemed into her. And… well… I’m pretty sure she took him home.”
Isabel nodded, approving.
“Good. He needed something normal after today.”
“That’s what I thought,” Rafi said softly. “He looked lighter.”
She smiled.
“Bryce is a good one.”
“He is,” Rafi agreed. “And Taba likes him. Slate too. They both keep gravitating toward him.”
“That says everything,” Isabel said simply.
Rafi softened, the adrenaline finally ebbing.
“How are you?” he asked quietly.
She tilted her head, her voice gentling.
“I’m good. Better now that you’re here. When are you coming to see me?”
“Soon,” he promised. “I miss you.”
Her expression warmed — that soft, luminous smile that always made something in him settle.
“Lie down,” she murmured.
He did, stretching out on his sofa, letting the sound of her breathing fill the quiet.
They talked a little more — small things, gentle things — until her voice grew drowsy and warm.
“I’m glad you’re okay,” she whispered.
“I’m glad Bryce is okay. And Case… well… he’ll figure himself out.”
Rafi smiled, eyes half‑closed.
“You always make everything make sense, Eesa.”
“And you always flap,” she teased softly. “But I love you anyway.”
Their ritual unfolded the way it always did: her drifting first, him following, the call still open, the connection humming softly between them.
And for the first time since the detonation, Rafi felt the world settle back into place.
***
The executive floor of the Ouro Tech building was quiet, moonlight pouring in through the smart glass panels giving the space a noir impression.
Slate descended the few steps from Case’s floor, silver fur glinting in the moonlight, and sat at the base of the steps, silent.
Taba appeared from the break room area. The small stray looked like a kitten in Slate’s presence.
Greetings exchanged, they started their meeting. Bryce was the first topic. Both agreed — human to protect.
They laughed (as cats do) at Rafi’s flapping. They both liked him. He felt good, and the pale star (Isabel) had chosen him, so he must be adequate.
They dissected Case. Slate was straightforward about his human - Silly tree man— needs help. Keep showing him. Taba wasn’t sure, but he admired the giant cat next to him - Tree man scary — wolf scented — not safe-feeling — will try.