The drive to the warehouse was silent. Not because there was nothing to say—but because neither of them wanted to be the first to say it. Kian sat in the back seat, one leg crossed over the other, fingers resting idly against his knee while his mind worked through every possible outcome of what was about to happen. Adrian sat next to him, his arms crossed, his jaw locked, his entire posture radiating disapproval.
Kian could feel it without even looking.
And yet, Adrian was still here.
That was what made this dangerous.
Because Kian had expected resistance, had expected an argument, had expected Adrian to walk away the moment he realized Kian wasn't hesitating, wasn't second-guessing, wasn't considering a way out of this. But he hadn't.
Instead, Adrian had gotten into the car.
He hadn't agreed.
But he also hadn't walked away.
And Kian didn't know what that meant yet.