Chloe inhaled sharply, fingers curling slightly against the doorframe.
She needed to leave.
She needed to move, to turn away, to pretend this moment didn't exist—because seeing Carter curled up against Kian, seeing the ease in it, the familiarity, the stolen vision of a past she had long abandoned—was dangerous.
But before she could step back—before she could pull away—Kian stirred.
A slow shift. A quiet inhale.
Then—his gaze flickered open, catching her before she could disappear.
And before she could muster a response, before she could feign indifference—his lips curled slightly.
"Enjoying the view?"
Chloe stiffened.
Her pulse tightened.
She hated this—hated how easily he unsettled her, hated how smoothly he wielded amusement like a weapon.
"Shut up."
Kian chuckled, low, quiet, the sound pulling at something unspoken between them.
"You look stunned, Redgrave."
She inhaled sharply.
"Go back to sleep."
Kian barely tilted his head, amusement still lingering, still effortless.
"You were staring."
Chloe exhaled, steadying herself, refusing to let the warmth in her chest turn into something real.
"You were dreaming, Ashford."
And before he could say anything else—before he could press, tease, unravel her further—she turned away, disappearing into the kitchen.
But the heat in her ears remained.
Because Kian had caught her.
And no amount of retreat would erase that.