Dylan’s smile lingered long after the room fell silent.
The kind of smile that didn’t belong on a human face.
Slow. Sharp. Calculated.
Isabelle Carter felt the temperature in Apartment 307 drop another ten degrees.
Adrian stood between them, tall and immovable, his ghostly form faintly glowing in the dim light of the standing lamp. For the first time since she’d met him, the gentleness in his gray eyes had disappeared.
Now there was only cold focus.
Protection.
Danger.
“You’ve been looking for me?” Adrian said quietly.
His voice was calm.
Too calm.
Dylan leaned casually against the kitchen counter as if they were discussing weekend plans instead of whatever nightmare was unfolding.
“Looking?” Dylan echoed.
He chuckled.
“No.”
His gaze flicked to Isabelle before returning to Adrian.
“I’ve been hunting.”
The word dropped into the room like a blade.
Isabelle’s pulse spiked.
“Okay,” she said quickly, raising both hands. “Time out.”
Neither man looked at her.
“Can someone please explain what the hell is happening?”
Adrian didn’t move his eyes from Dylan.
“You need to leave, Isabelle.”
Her head snapped toward him.
“Excuse me?”
His voice softened, but his tone didn’t change.
“This does not concern you.”
“Not concern me?” She gestured wildly around the apartment. “You two are having some supernatural staring contest in my living room!”
Dylan laughed softly.
“She’s right.”
His eyes glittered.
“It absolutely concerns her.”
Adrian’s jaw tightened.
“Stay out of this.”
“Can’t.”
Dylan straightened slowly, pushing away from the counter.
“After all…”
His gaze slid over Isabelle in a way that made her skin crawl.
“She’s the reason I found you.”
The words landed like a bomb.
Adrian moved instantly.
The air around him rippled, his translucent form flickering as he stepped forward.
“What have you done?”
Dylan shrugged lazily.
“Nothing yet.”
Isabelle’s head spun.
“Okay, I am officially lost.”
She pointed at Dylan.
“You’ve been dating me for three years.”
Then she pointed at Adrian.
“You’re a ghost who apparently lived here a hundred years ago.”
She threw her hands in the air.
“So someone explain why my boyfriend sounds like he’s been stalking a dead man!”
Dylan’s smile softened.
The same charming expression she had trusted for years.
“Belle…”
He walked toward her slowly.
Adrian’s voice cracked through the air like thunder.
“Don’t come any closer.”
Dylan stopped.
He looked almost amused.
“You’re protective for a ghost.”
Adrian’s eyes burned.
“You shouldn’t exist.”
“Funny.”
Dylan tilted his head.
“I was about to say the same thing about you.”
The tension in the room thickened until it felt suffocating.
Isabelle’s chest tightened.
“Dylan.”
Her voice shook slightly.
“What’s going on?”
For the first time since he arrived, Dylan looked directly at her.
Really looked.
Something unfamiliar flickered in his eyes.
Regret.
But it vanished quickly.
“Do you remember the first time we met?” he asked softly.
Isabelle blinked.
“Of course.”
A gallery opening in SoHo.
Three years ago.
She’d been standing awkwardly beside her paintings while people walked past without stopping.
Then Dylan had appeared.
Confident.
Charming.
Interested.
He’d said her work had “soul.”
No one had ever said that before.
“You were the only person who talked to me that night,” she said quietly.
Dylan nodded.
“That wasn’t an accident.”
Adrian’s expression darkened.
“You used her.”
“Of course I did.”
The casual answer made Isabelle flinch.
Dylan continued calmly.
“People like Adrian leave… traces.”
Adrian’s voice dropped dangerously low.
“Careful.”
Dylan ignored him.
“Energy. Memory. Echoes.”
His gaze returned to Isabelle.
“And artists are sensitive to those things.”
Her stomach twisted.
“You’re saying you dated me because…”
“Because you could find him.”
The truth hit like a slap.
Three years.
Three years of dinners, conversations, lazy Sundays, whispered promises—
All of it built on a lie.
Isabelle felt something inside her crack.
“You used me.”
Dylan’s expression hardened slightly.
“It wasn’t personal.”
Adrian’s voice cut in, cold and furious.
“She trusted you.”
“Trust is a convenient tool.”
Dylan’s eyes gleamed.
“Just like love.”
The cruelty in his tone made Isabelle’s throat burn.
“Why?” she whispered.
“Why are you looking for him?”
For a moment, Dylan didn’t answer.
Then he exhaled slowly.
“Fine.”