Aria walked until the music disappeared.
She didn't check her phone when it buzzed the first time. Or the second. When Liam's name filled the screen a third time, she declined it and kept walking. When Iris called, she turned the phone off entirely.
The silence after that was louder than the party had been.
---
She didn't look at the messages until she was back in her room with the door locked and her shoes still on.
*Aria, please pick up.*
*It's not what it looked like.*
She set the phone face-down.
It was exactly what it looked like. That was the part no one seemed to want to say.
It wasn't the kiss that stayed with her. It was the hand on Iris's waist - settled, easy, practiced. The way neither of them startled. You didn't touch someone like that the first time.
Her phone buzzed against the desk.
Unknown number.
She answered before she'd decided to.
"Aria Cole."
Not a question. She straightened. "Who is this?"
"Jace Hunter."
The name hit before the voice finished saying it. *Hunter. Liam.*
"Why do you have my number?"
"Because I think you're owed an explanation."
"Then Liam should be calling."
"Liam," Jace said, "doesn't know what to explain yet."
She almost laughed. "And you do."
"Some of it."
"*Some* of it."
"Enough to matter."
She moved to the window. The street below was empty - ordinary, unchanged, indifferent to everything that had broken in the last two hours. "Then say it."
"Not like this."
"You called me."
"I know."
"So talk."
A beat. When he spoke again, his voice was unhurried in a way that made her want to hang up. "What you saw tonight wasn't a mistake Liam made with Iris. It was a mistake he made with *you*."
The room felt smaller. "Meaning what, exactly."
"Meaning the relationship had complications you weren't told about."
"What complications."
"That's what I can't do over the phone."
"Then we're done." She pulled the phone from her ear.
"Aria."
She stopped.
"You're not angry because he kissed her." His voice was still measured, still calm, like he was reading from something he'd already worked out. "You're angry because something in that room told you it wasn't the first time. And now you're wondering what else you missed."
Her jaw tightened. She didn't answer.
She didn't need to.
"There's an address coming through," he said. "Come or don't. But if you want to know what you were actually part of - that's where you'll find it."
The call ended.
A second later, the message arrived. An address. Nothing else - no explanation, no time, no softening.
Aria stared at it.
She knew what the smart move was. She could feel it clearly, the clean, self-protective version of tonight where she blocked the number, opened the window, and let this become someone else's problem.
