Billie was already regretting her decision.

It wasn't that the night wasn't fun—her friends were loud and chaotic in the best ways, the music at the club was hitting just right, and the VIP section they'd snagged ensured no one could get too close. But the nagging feeling in her chest wouldn't go away.

She hadn't told Cedric she was leaving.

The logical part of her brain reminded her that she didn't owe him anything. He was her bodyguard, not her parent. But the other part—the part that knew she'd deliberately snuck out to avoid dealing with his inevitable disapproval—couldn't shake the unease.

Odessa leaned over, yelling something Billie couldn't hear over the bass thumping through the speakers. Billie nodded anyway, smiling as if she wasn't entirely distracted.

Quen flopped down on the couch beside her, dramatically fanning herself with a cocktail menu. "Bro, that DJ is killing it tonight!" she said, her voice loud enough to cut through the noise.

Billie nodded again, taking a sip of her soda. She wasn't in the mood to drink, but her friends didn't seem to notice.

"You good?" Alex asked, sliding into the seat on her other side. He was already halfway through a whiskey sour, his dark curls damp with sweat from dancing.

"Yeah," Billie said quickly, brushing off the question. "Just tired, I think."

"Tired?" Zoe called out from across the table, her blonde hair glowing under the club's neon lights. "Girl, you've been sitting here all night!"

"Yeah, come dance!" Ava chimed in, grabbing Billie's arm.

Billie laughed weakly, shaking her head. "I'm good. You guys go."

Her friends exchanged looks but didn't push further. Odessa shrugged, grabbing Zoe and Ava to drag them back onto the dance floor. Alex followed after them, leaving Billie and Quen alone in the booth.

Quen narrowed her eyes, studying Billie for a moment before leaning in. "Okay, spill. What's up?"

"Nothing," Billie said, forcing a smile.

"Uh-huh," Quen said, unconvinced. "Is it about Balaclava Daddy?"

Billie blinked. "What?"

"Your bodyguard," Quen clarified, rolling her eyes. "The big, scary one with the mask? What's his name—Cedric?"

Billie laughed, caught off guard. "You call him Balaclava Daddy?"

"Duh," Quen said, grinning. "Anyway, is he why you're all mopey? Did you guys fight or something?"

"No, it's not like that," Billie said quickly. "I just... didn't tell him I was coming out tonight."

Quen raised an eyebrow. "So? You're a grown-ass woman. You don't have to tell him everything."

"Yeah, I know," Billie said, fidgeting with the rings on her fingers. "But he's, like, intense. He'd probably freak out if he knew I left without him."

Quen shrugged. "Sounds like a him problem, not a you problem."

"Maybe," Billie muttered, though the knot in her chest didn't loosen.

Back at Billie's house, Cedric was losing it.

The second he punched in the door code and stepped inside, he knew something was wrong. The house was dark, eerily quiet except for the soft jingle of Shark's collar as the pit bull trotted into the entryway to greet him.

"Billie?" Cedric called, his voice sharp and commanding.

No response.

Shark wagged his tail, oblivious to the tension radiating off Cedric as he moved through the house, checking every room. The emptiness felt wrong, like a puzzle missing its most important piece.

He pulled out his phone, dialing Billie's number. It rang three times before going to voicemail.

Cedric clenched his jaw, his green eyes narrowing. This wasn't like her. She wasn't reckless—well, not usually. And even when she was, she didn't go completely off the grid.

Shark nudged his leg, whining softly. Cedric reached down to scratch the dog's head, his mind racing through possibilities.

Where the hell was she?

The night wasn't getting better for Billie.

The unease that had been simmering in her chest all night finally boiled over when her phone buzzed in her pocket. She glanced at the screen and immediately felt her stomach drop.

Cedric Pierre - Incoming Call

Her first instinct was to ignore it. But the little voice in the back of her head—probably Sully's, if she was honest—told her that would only make things worse.

Sighing, she swiped to answer.

"Hey," she said, trying to sound casual over the noise of the club.

"Where are you?" Cedric's voice was sharp, cutting through the music like a knife.

Billie winced. "Uh... out?"

"Out where?"

"With friends," she said vaguely, glancing toward the dance floor where Odessa and Zoe were still going wild.

"Billie," Cedric said, his tone low and dangerously calm, "you need to tell me exactly where you are. Now."

"It's fine," she said quickly, trying to downplay it. "I'm safe. I'm with Quen and Odessa and—"

"Billie," he interrupted, his voice firmer. "I don't care who you're with. You're my responsibility. If you think I'm going to sit back while you run around unprotected, you're mistaken."

His words stung more than she expected. "I'm not a child, Cedric," she snapped.

"Then stop acting like one," he shot back.

Her cheeks burned, partly from anger but mostly from guilt.

"Where are you?" Cedric repeated, his voice leaving no room for argument.

Billie sighed, her shoulders slumping. "Level Nine. It's a club downtown."

"I'm on my way," he said before hanging up.

Cedric arrived at the club in record time, his presence immediately causing a stir among the staff at the entrance. The balaclava and his imposing frame were enough to make even the burliest bouncer step aside without question.

Inside, the noise and chaos of the club assaulted his senses, but he didn't flinch. His eyes scanned the room, zeroing in on Billie almost instantly. She was still sitting in the VIP section with Quen, looking like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

He approached the table, his movements purposeful and direct.

"Billie," he said, his voice low but firm.

She looked up at him, her expression a mix of defiance and guilt. "Hey."

"We're leaving," Cedric said, gesturing toward the exit.

Quen raised an eyebrow, glancing between them. "Uh, should I be worried, or...?"

Billie sighed, standing up. "No, it's fine. I'll call you later."

Quen shrugged, offering a cheeky wave as Billie followed Cedric out of the club.

The ride home was silent, the tension in the car thick enough to cut with a knife.

Cedric's grip on the steering wheel was tight, his knuckles white as he navigated through the city streets. Billie sat in the passenger seat, her arms crossed and her gaze fixed out the window.

When they finally pulled into her driveway, Cedric parked the car but didn't move to get out.

"Do you have any idea how dangerous that was?" he said, breaking the silence.

Billie bristled. "I was with friends. I wasn't alone."

"That doesn't matter," Cedric snapped, turning to face her. "Do you think your friends could've stopped someone from getting to you if things went south?"

Billie opened her mouth to argue but quickly closed it. She didn't have an answer for that.

Cedric sighed, his voice softening slightly. "I'm not here to control your life, Billie. But I can't do my job if you don't tell me where you're going. You have to trust me."

She glanced at him, guilt twisting in her chest. "I do trust you."

"Then act like it," he said, his green eyes meeting hers.

Billie nodded silently, her shoulders slumping.