fin
"all i do is finesse, man."
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LU BASHENGA
// panther .
"I
’ve walked through the shadow ‘otha valley plenty, an’ I’ve still come out jus’ fine,” she’d said, sipping gin like it was armor.
But Lu had heard what she didn’t say.
That she’d walked it alone.
He watched her now, slinking into the treeline, shoulders curled like a question mark, like maybe she was hoping the woods would swallow her whole before someone else noticed how much she was unraveling. His gut twisted, low and ancient. He could’ve followed. Should’ve, maybe. But—
Then Remy LeBeau lit up the sky.
It started with a coin. Then another. Glimmering purple flares cracked against the stars like the night itself was splintering. The fireworks were beautiful. Too beautiful. And Remy stood there in silhouette, framed like a saint in stained glass, the gallows-hands of guilt tucked loose in his pockets, like he hadn’t just made everyone feel something sharp and holy.
Lu’s jaw clenched.
Purple coin. Spark. Smoke. Laughter wrapped in mourning.
Lu watched the sky bloom above them, pink and violet cracks ripping through the night like open wounds stitched in neon. The crowd gasped, the way they always did when Remy made something burn pretty.
He watched the way Remy’s eyes lingered in the dark, searching for someone. And when they landed on her, Lu felt something in his chest coil.
Rogue had paused at the edge of the treeline. Just enough distance to breathe. Just enough distance to be seen, if someone was watching close.
Remy was watching close.
Lu could see the moment the Cajun’s charm shifted into place. The slight tilt of the head. The lazy lean. The hush in his voice like he was always on the verge of sharing something only you were meant to hear. It would’ve worked, too, on anyone else. Maybe even on her, if the night hadn’t already cut her down to the bone.
Lu took a breath through his nose. Steady. Quiet.
And Baiyara growled.
The jaguar moved with him, always in his orbit, but this sound—this low, guttural thing—it wasn’t for him. Her muscles tensed beside him, golden eyes locked not on the fire, but on Remy. Like she could smell what Lu wasn’t saying.
Lu held up a hand without looking at her.
“Don’t,” he whispered.
One word. No heat. Just command.
Baiyara stilled.
But her tail lashed once, sharp as a whip through the leaves.
He understood the instinct. Every part of him was crawling with it. Not because Remy had touched her. He hadn’t. Not yet. But because he could. Because Rogue, for all her thorns and distance, might let him.
And that—that—was worse than watching her walk away.
Still, Lu did what he always did when things twisted too close to pain.
He smiled.
Smooth. Slow. Just crooked enough to feel dangerous instead of broken. His posture rolled into something looser, hands slipping into pockets, like this was all one big cosmic joke and he’d already heard the punchline.
He stepped just a little closer to where they stood, caught in that soft hush at the forest’s edge.
“Damn, LeBeau,” he drawled, voice dipped in molasses and smoke. “You light up the sky for all the ladies or just the ones wearin’ denim and danger?”
There was a smile in it. A flirt. Even aimed toward Rogue, half-lidded and familiar. But beneath it, the words had teeth.
He caught her glance. Brief. Fragile. And he wondered if she was already cataloguing ways to disappear again.
She always did.
Kiri emerged like a blade through silk. Her eyes swept over them, over him, and the scent of her approach was like ozone and judgment. Her presence grounded the moment. Or maybe it just reminded Lu that other people still had work to do while he stood here, unraveling by inches.
"Just coming to check on people," Kiri said, and her gaze landed on him with precision. "If anybody has anything they don't want found on them by a teacher, you might want to give it to me now."
Lu held her stare. Felt the hum of Kick still faint in his blood, not enough to pull him under, but just enough to remind him how clear everything looked tonight. Every heartbeat. Every tell. Every lie waiting behind every kind smile.
He stepped forward slightly, and his voice, when it came, was velvet.
“Only thing I got on me’s a bad habit of fallin’ for dangerous women.”
That one, meant for Rogue. Maybe Kiri too. Maybe just the night itself.
Lu’s hand slid slowly into his jacket pocket, fingers curling around the small vial of Kick. He pulled it out with deliberate slowness, the glass catching the firelight, flickering like a tiny, dangerous star. He let it dangle between thumb and forefinger, the subtle sway almost hypnotic, an invitation and a threat all at once.
Then, from the shadows behind him, a presence shifted. Larger than any man, Baiyara emerged, a towering figure over seven feet tall, her sleek jaguar form massive and powerful. Her muscles rippled beneath dark fur like liquid midnight, and her golden eyes burned with fierce loyalty, locked on the vial in Lu’s hand as if it were a challenge meant for her to answer.
The air thickened as she eased closer, each step silent but weighted, a shadow stretching impossibly tall and dark across the circle of firelight. A low, guttural growl rumbled deep in her throat, a primal warning that vibrated through Lu’s own bones.
It was no accident. Lu had called her there, a psychic thread tugging at the beast’s instincts, weaving their minds together in unspoken command. Baiyara was his shadow, his guardian, and now a living barrier between him and anyone who’d dare take what was his.
With Baiyara looming over him, casting that dark mantle across his features, Lu tilted the vial slightly, letting the light catch its dangerous gleam. His eyes narrowed into slits, sharp as a blade, fixed unwaveringly on Kiri.
“Go on,” he said, voice smooth but edged with steel, “Try to take it.”
Neither Baiyara nor Lu broke eye contact with Kiri, the unspoken challenge hanging between them like a blade.
“Try me.”
The fire flickered, casting wild patterns around them, but the darkness under Baiyara’s shadow was absolute—an unyielding warning that this night, and this prize, belonged to Lu.
mind
set.
sett
ing.
men
tions.
poker face.
lady gaga.
