Silk & Sabotage

Part 5 : The Night Before He Vanished

The storm rolled in after midnight — thick clouds curling over the moon like velvet gloves, winds slicing through the trees like whispers meant to be forgotten.

And in the heart of the palace, where shadows kissed every marble corner, Mino Kael stood at the edge of a lie he could no longer hold.

He was leaving.

He knew that.

Mia would wake up tomorrow, and he would be gone.

No footprints.

No messages.

Only emptiness where he used to linger.

But tonight —

Tonight wasn't for escape.

It was for sin.

---

Mia opened her door without asking.

She had heard his knock.

She had been waiting.

She wore nothing but silk — blood-red, thin as a second skin. Her hair was loose, wild around her shoulders. Her eyes said everything:

I know what you are.

I know you're leaving.

And I don't care.

"Close the door," she said, voice low. "Lock it."

He did.

No words followed.

Only movement.

Mino crossed the room like he was walking into a war zone.

And maybe he was.

She didn't wait for him to reach her. She met him halfway, crashing her lips into his — fierce, demanding, tasting of wine and bitterness. He groaned into her mouth, hands finding her waist, then up her back, gripping hard enough to bruise.

"You're not staying," she whispered against his lips.

"No."

"You're still mine tonight."

"I always was."

---

Clothes fell like secrets.

His shirt torn from his body, hers slipped down her shoulders. Her nails raked down his chest. His teeth grazed her collarbone. Their kisses weren't gentle. They were starving — the kind of kisses that didn't ask for permission. That didn't say sorry. That only said remember me.

He kissed her throat, then lower. Down the line of her shoulder. The hollow beneath her collar. And then, her nape — over and over, like a man desperate to memorize the taste of her skin.

"You always do that," she gasped, clutching his hair. "The neck—"

"You smell like the end of me."

---

They didn't make love.

They claimed each other.

On the chaise. Against the wall. On the cold floor, where silk pooled beneath her like spilled blood.

Her legs wrapped around his waist, her breath stuttering as he moved inside her — slow, then punishingly deep, then slow again. His hands gripped her thighs like she'd disappear if he let go.

She whispered his name — not Kael.

Mino.

And he froze. Just for a second.

Because she wasn't supposed to know.

But she did.

And she still wanted him.

So he kissed her again. Hard. Almost angry.

---

Later, they lay tangled, sweat cooling, hearts still pounding.

Mino pressed soft kisses down her spine. She shivered.

"Don't say goodbye," she said into the darkness.

"I wasn't going to."

She turned in his arms, pulled his hand to her chest. "Then don't say anything at all."

He didn't.

He just held her — until her breath slowed, until her lashes fluttered shut, until the storm outside softened into a lullaby.

And when she slept, still curled into him…

He got up.

---

He didn't take his boots.

He didn't take his notebook.

He didn't even take his name.

He kissed her nape one last time — soft, long, reverent.

Then vanished like a ghost.

The scent of him lingered.

The sheets stayed warm for hours.

And Mia?

Mia woke alone.

No knock. No note. No trace.

But she didn't panic.

She walked to his room, found it empty.

And on the pillow, she found the flower.

A Dahlia.

A real one.

Fresh.

Her breath caught.

Because that flower meant two things.

One: he had confessed without speaking.

Two: he was never meant to stay.

She clutched the bloom in her hand until the petals crushed.

Not out of rage. But understanding.

Because Mia Veyra had known from the very beginning.

And still… she let him in.

Only silence.

Only the memory of the filthiest, most honest night they had ever shared.

She didn't cry.

She lit a cigarette, leaned on the balcony rail, and whispered:

"Coward."

But even then, she touched the spot where he kissed her nape.

And closed her eyes.