[Rosalie's POV]
Her feet moved before her pride could stop them.
The porch creaked softly under her boots as Kane unlocked the front door and pushed it open. The house smelled like cedar and smoke. Simple. Lived in.
It was nothing like the Cullen estate.
Which is why it shook her more than she liked.
He stepped aside, letting her pass. Not like he was offering like he knew she'd follow. Like he knew she wanted to.
And the worst part?
He was right.
She walked inside, stiff but poised, golden eyes scanning every inch.
"No furniture," she muttered, noting the bare living room. Just a couch. No pictures. No clutter.
Kane shut the door behind her. "I don't need much."
"You live like you're ready to leave at any time."
"I live like no one else matters."
Rosalie turned to him. "And yet I'm here."
He leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "That's new for me too."
[Kane's POV]
He watched her move through his space like a panther graceful, controlled, every step measured.
But beneath that elegance, he saw the tension. The way her jaw clenched. The way her fingers brushed the edge of the counter like she needed to hold onto something.
She was fighting herself.
And Kane knew that war well.
He didn't speak for a while. Let the silence stretch. Let her breathe in the space without pressure.
Then—
"Why'd you really come?"
Rosalie turned, golden hair catching the last of the evening light. "I told you."
"You told me half."
She frowned, arms folding over her chest again. Her shield.
"I don't like being around people who make me feel… off balance."
"And yet you came back."
Rosalie's lips parted then closed again. Her eyes narrowed.
Kane pushed away from the wall, his body language loose but direct. "You're not here to warn me again. You're not here for answers."
"Then what?" she asked, her voice tight.
"You're here because being around me pulls something out of you you didn't know was there."
Rosalie blinked once. Like the words struck too close.
"You're so sure of yourself," she whispered.
"I'm sure of you."
[Rosalie's POV]
Her breath caught.
That wasn't charm. That wasn't flirting.
That was something raw. Something true.
And it terrified her.
Because she wanted to believe it.
She stepped back, spine brushing against the kitchen counter. "You don't know me."
"I know enough," he said, approaching her—not fast, not threatening, just… sure.
Rosalie's body tensed, but not in fear.
In anticipation.
"I know you're stronger than you let on," Kane said, stopping just short of touching her. "I know you've been alone longer than anyone realizes. Even with your family."
Her throat tightened.
"I know you don't trust easily."
"And you think I should trust you?" she snapped.
"No," Kane said calmly. "I think you want to."
Her golden eyes flared.
Silence. Thick, charged.
Then Kane stepped closer. Close enough that she could feel the heat of him. His voice dropped to a whisper.
"You haven't looked at me like you want me to leave. Not once."
[Kane's POV]
He didn't touch her.
He didn't have to.
The air between them did all the work.
She stared up at him, lips slightly parted, eyes burning with conflict desire and caution locked in a draw.
"I should go," she said finally, voice hoarse.
"You could."
Rosalie didn't move.
She could go.
She didn't.
Instead, she looked up at him eyes softer now, lips trembling just slightly. "I hate how you make me feel."
Kane's smirk was slow, full of fire. "You're not supposed to love it yet."
Her breath hitched.
That word yet clung to the air like smoke.
He watched as she slowly turned, her control folding in on itself like a wave pulled back to sea. She moved to the door, hand resting on the knob.
But she didn't open it.
Not right away.
And when she finally did, she paused in the threshold.
"Don't follow me," she said, voice barely audible.
"I don't have to."
She didn't respond.
Then, she disappeared into the night.
But Kane knew.
She'd be back.