The first buzz was harmless.

Her fingers moved on autopilot, hitting send before her brain could catch up. The message flew off into the digital void, and she barely glanced at it, already swiping back to her camera roll.

The photo she was looking for had been taken weeks ago—a mirror selfie she'd never had the nerve to post. It was a little too much skin, a little too confident. One she definitely wouldn't send to just anyone.

She tapped the message thread without looking, assuming it was Noah's. Sent.

Then she dropped her phone onto her bed, stretching her arms above her head with a satisfied sigh.

It buzzed.

She ignored it.

Buzzed again.

Then again.

And again.

Four messages.

Her stomach dropped. Slowly, she picked the phone back up, dread coiling in her chest. The notifications on her lock screen made her blood run cold.

A photo.

Killian. Mid-night, standing in his doorway, phone held up at an angle. The flash caught the sharp cut of his jaw, the dark sweep of his hair. His shirt was off. Abs carved like stone, a thin trail of hair disappearing into the waistband of his low-slung sweatpants. His other arm was braced against the doorframe, biceps flexing, tattoos coiling up his forearm. He wasn't smiling, not really. But there was something in his grey eyes—something knowing.

Y/N's mouth went dry.

Her phone buzzed again.