Chapter 16

“She tasted like the end,
until she started to feel like a cure,
and I’ve never trusted anything
that didn’t burn on the way down.“

Nathan’s POV

The rain was doing what I should have done, touching her, soaking her, stripping her bare.

Each drop dragged her hair down in heavy strands, plastering a few to the side of her face, dripping past her full lips, sliding down her neck, reaching her collarbone, and slipping beneath the thin fabric where my hands no longer had business.

The rain had no right to brush her skin this way, but then again, neither did I anymore.

The moment I saw her, I should have turned away, gotten in my car, and driven the fuck away. I should have reminded her that she had no right to stand here, so close to me, no, she didn’t, not after what she did.

But God, she looked ruined, and ruin has always been my favorite shape.

I could see it, it’s in her eyes, buried beneath the forest green, trembling, the madness that threatened to take over, the one that terrified her to the bones. I could see it…how her brain was wavering, teetering, and I wanted to push it off the fucking edge. I wanted to stand and watch it crumble and crash. I wanted to hear it crack when it hit. I wanted her pain, craved it even. I wanted her to feel what I felt over the past week.

Mercy was a concept I lacked, so when I bled, I wanted the whole world to bleed, too.

“What are you doing here?” My voice came out just as cruel as I felt.

She blinked, and the breath that left her lips stuttered, “Why did you leave?”

“I said, what are you doing here, Aylin?” My nails dug into my palms, anchors against the itch in my fingers. They ached to reach for her throat, to curl around that soft, slippery skin and squeeze until the rain couldn’t find her pulse anymore.

“I want…need answers, why did you leave?” She said, her voice breathy, her fragile eyes still on mine, refusing to break contact, as if she stared long enough, I’d bend…well, in her fucking dreams.

“If you’re smart, you’d leave right now,” I said, voice dropping lower, darker, “You don’t want to find out how far I go when I’m angry, do you?”

Her throat moved, it bobbed heavily, and she licked the rain from her lips. The droplets hadn’t stopped falling, just became less heavy, a quieter kind of drowning. Still, neither of us moved. We stood there, stubborn and soaked, like the rain might decide who breaks first, me or her.

“We…we got into the pool, what…” Her breath trembled. Her gaze went hazy, lost in a twisty maze. “What happened after?”

My mind…paused, glitching on her words, her face, the way genuine confusion dripped from her eyes. I stilled for a short second as I realized that maybe…maybe she didn’t recall what happened. Still, it doesn’t excuse what she did. This doesn’t change that, but then again, why couldn’t she remember?

The thought cracked open a dozen doors I’d tried to bolt shut. Theories I’d been swallowing all week collapsed over each other, but now…now it didn’t matter what her truth was.

Because this?

This gave me a weapon, one that I could use, to hurt her, to extract her pain, piece by piece, and spill it onto the floor.

My head tilted, “And you’ll believe anything I say?” I asked. The corner of my mouth lifted, not in a smile, no, but in something far crueler. “If your brain’s too broken to fill the blanks…you really trust me to do it for you?”

Her expression cracked, just slightly, but enough. The flicker of fear that flashed behind her eyes? The monster in me drank it in, fed on it, devoured it, just like I used to devour her soft lips and porcelain skin.

She thought she’d come here and get answers from me? She really didn’t know who the hell I was, did she?

“What if I told you…” I stepped closer, till the tip of my shoe knocked against hers, my face lowering until I could feel her shaky breath on my skin. “…that maybe I dragged you to bed, forced you down, and took you against your will?” My voice was soft, almost tender, “Would you believe that?”

Her eyes widened, bright green panic flaring like a flare in the dark. “That you screamed and screamed, but I didn’t stop.” My hand rose, hovering just above her arm before I brushed it, not a touch, more a threat disguised as a caress. “What if I told you that I didn’t do it alone? Maybe I brought someone with me, who helped me, that maybe there were hands you didn’t see, hands you didn’t know, that touched you everywhere,” Fuck, the thought alone had me black out, but I went on, I pushed and pushed, and fucking pushed.

“That maybe I took you to that cabin for this very reason, would you believe that?”

She flinched.

I smiled.

“Maybe I drugged you,” I said softly, my brow arching, my tone too calm. “Maybe that coffee I handed you that morning?” I shrugged. “Maybe it was more than just coffee.”

I pressed the words into her like fingers digging into a bruise. I wanted her to bleed red from the inside out, red, red, I wanted to paint her in red. Maybe…maybe if I push her hard enough, if I hurt her deep enough, she’ll finally forget him and the hurt he left in her.

My words pushed her back, she stumbled, and I followed, consuming her space again. I told her to leave, I warned her, but she didn’t, and now she was trapped in my game, one I’d already rigged.

“Or better yet…” I whispered. I was close enough for the air between us to vanish, “maybe I pushed you under the water, maybe I just held you down longer. Maybe I just waited…waited until the fight left your body, until you couldn’t breathe and passed out.”

Her lower lip trembled. Her eyes, glassy, wide, and wet, locked on mine like she was just realizing the monster wasn’t hiding under her bed; he was standing right in front of her, and she was the one who invited him in.

“But who’s going to believe you?” I asked, head tilting, my voice soft. A crease formed between my brows, mock concern lacing my every word. “No one did before…not when you were little and slipped into that pool.”

Yeah, I had to do my research again, after what happened, I just had to.

Her breath hitched, the whites of her eyes blooming. I leaned in, tasting the memory I’d unearthed. “You told them someone pushed you, held you under, drowned you.” I added, “But no one believed you then, did they?”

My words dropped lower, “So tell me, Aylin—” I watched her unravel like silk between blades. “Why would anyone believe you now?”

Her chest heaved, a jagged rhythm, trying to find air, but there was none. There was me, my words, and the devil in my eyes, ready to tear her apart at the seams. Her lips parted, but no sound came; she was silent except for the tremor of air in her lungs. One tear, just one, escaped her left eye, slowly carving its way down her cheek until it vanished.

There it was.

The pain I’d been digging for, out in the open.

My eyes stayed on hers, they watched, watched the tear mix with the water on her skin, unsure where one ended and the other began. My jaw locked until it ached. The monster in me stirred, unsatisfied. One tear wasn’t enough.

I wanted more.

More panic.

More breakage.

More of her splintering open under my words until there was nothing left.

My fists clenched, and my throat burned. The part of my brain that feeds on this, the part that tastes blood before it’s spilled, wasn’t going to stop. It wasn’t going to stop until it pressed her down, until she went still, until there was no breath left to take.

“Leave,” The word scraped out of me roughly, almost unrecognizable.

It was a command, but also a warning. A last mercy from a man with none left.

She shook her head, “Not until you tell me what really happened.”

Something inside me fucking snapped at her defiance.

My hand shot out, my fingers clamping around her arm, shoving her back until her feet skidded on the porch. She stumbled, a small gasp catching in her throat, and I followed, crowding her space. My other hand crept up, wrapping around the slick warmth of her neck, my thumb sliding against the pulse there.

Her back hit the door with a soft thud. I hovered over her, my face close enough for our breaths to knot in the rain. The dark thing inside me roared awake, drowning out reason. My grip tightened just enough to feel the thrum of her heartbeat against my palm. My shadow swallowed her whole. I wanted her to flinch, to cry, to finally show me fear.

But she didn’t.

Even pressed against the door, her gaze stayed fixed on mine, steady and strange, like she’d already seen worse in the black holes of her own memory. Like whatever ghosts were eating her from the inside were bigger than the monster breathing on her skin.

Her eyes were soft. God, too soft.

Her lips were parted, rain caught in the curve of her mouth. Her skin under my fingers was warm and wet, a fever against this cold night. My gaze dropped to her lips without permission, and for one insane heartbeat, the urge to crush her disappeared and was replaced by something worse, much worse.

An urge to pull her in, to hold her, to press my mouth to hers, to keep her safe from everything, even from me.

The thought alone drove me mad.

She blinked slowly, lashes heavy with rain, and said my fucking name, “Nathan.”

It came out soft, torturous, like a plea and a prayer.

I nearly groaned, nearly blacked out. My fingers trembled against her throat.

“So you do know my name,” I rasped, forcing the words past the war in my chest. My grip loosened. I pulled my hands back like they’d burned me, stepping away from her, backing off the porch, the monster inside me clawing at the walls of my skull.

Without another word, I turned and stalked to the car. My body ran on pure impulse. If I stayed another second, I wasn’t sure which part of me would win, the one that wanted to kill her or the one that wanted to save her.

My hand hit the door handle just as hers urgently grasped at my arm from behind, trying to stop me. “Nathan—”

“Aylin, fucking stop!” I screamed as I turned around. My fingers locked around her arm, harsher than I’d ever allowed myself before, ripping her touch off me.

“I did something, didn’t I?” The words spilled out of her, brokenly. My reaction gave her the answer she didn’t have. “I must’ve done something. I can see it…what did I do?” She pleaded, her voice climbing in frustration. “Just tell me, please. I’ll go away after that, you won’t see me again, just, please Nathan, tell me what happened.”

My jaw clenched so tight, “The truth would make you feel better?”

She nodded, the crease between her brows deepening until it looked like it hurt. “Yes.”

“But see, that’s the problem.” My voice grated out of me, “I don’t want you to feel better.” I added, “I want this darkness in your head to keep eating you. I want it to gnaw at you, I want you lost inside it,” The more I spoke, the more the madness in her eyes trembled, good, “I want it to consume you whole.”

My jaw ached, my pulse was a snarling beast in my neck, “For your own good,” I grated, my voice breaking into something almost feral, “never let me see your face again.”

I took another step back, eyes still locked on hers. “Next time, I won’t stop at words.”

Then I turned, got in my car, and didn’t look back.

⊹˚₊‧──────────────‧₊˚⊹

Moments like this…are when I miss the life I had before I got my surgery. Back then, my days were limited, numbered, every sunrise a countdown, and every night a tick on my list, so I lived each one like it was my last.

Back then, I snatched seconds, devoured the air, enjoyed it hitting my skin, rejoiced in the way wind braided itself into my hair. I savored the rain slipping over my skin, memorized its smell. I looked at the moon, fell in love with its beauty, and counted how many full faces it would show me before I vanished.

Moments like this…make me miss having a target in my hand, plotting and playing, twisting the ropes and moving pieces off the chess board. God, it was so fucking entertaining. I was happier then, on the brink of my death, much more than I’ve ever been since Nikolas played hero and saved my life, just to feel better about himself.

I miss the thrill of it—

You see, there’s a purity in destruction when you know you won’t be around to see the ruins.

So, I miss it. I miss the brink. I miss the countdown. I miss the end I was promised.

Now? Now, I need something, anything, to keep my brain stimulated, to keep me going, anything to keep the hunger gnawing without devouring me whole.

For a while, that was her.

She was the most exquisite form of a drug, an intravenous thrill dripping straight into my bloodstream, intoxicating my brain cell by cell. She wasn’t just a high; she was the overdose and the coma, the needle and the vein.

I was ingesting her, snorting her, shooting her straight into my marrow. She made me feel like I was dying again, and I liked it. She reminded me of the countdown I’d lost, the edge I’d been pushed off. She gave me vertigo when all I had left was flat ground.

So, when she said his name, in that fleeting second, maybe insignificant to others, the mirage broke, the high wore off, and the taste went bitter. At that moment, I realized she was becoming more than what I wanted her to be. She was no longer the sweet poison; she was starting to look like an antidote.

Like something that could make me want to stay.

She sentenced me to live, so I had to fucking run.

The rain outside my window blurred into silver and black streaks. I stared at it, tried to find the beauty in it like I used to, but it was gone. I didn’t know which messed-up part of my brain had me driving here, but here is where I found myself.

I walked up the path, the wet boards creaking under my shoes. Before I could think, I knocked, once, then twice. Warm light flickered through the windows, the sound of shattering conversations and laughter spilling out, and plates clinked when the door opened and Nikolas came into view.

His expression shifted, taken aback. “Nathan,” he said, like he never thought I’d come knocking on his door.

Fuck, this is starting to feel like a bad idea, and I haven’t even opened my mouth yet. My body stepped back on instinct, like it could build distance faster than my words.

“Hey, I just wanted to ask,” I started to say, keeping my voice steady, “If you’ve got more of those little jobs, you know, like the one you gave me before.” Maybe getting beaten up by Emma again could help me feel a bit better.

His brows pulled together. “Uh, okay. I’ll ask Emma,” he said slowly, eyes scanning my face as if he could find answers to unspoken questions. “If something comes up, I’ll let you know.”

“Cool.” I was already backing away. “Thanks.”

But before I could step out, he called out, “Nathan, wait.” I turned to look at him.

He nodded toward the house, “Why don’t you come inside? We were just about to have dinner.”

I shook my head, “That’s not really my thing.”

His eyebrow raised, “Having dinner is not your thing?”

I gave him a dry smile and shook my head, “People,” I said, “People are not my thing.”

He flashed me a knowing look, “Seriously, come in. Ronald is here too.”

“Exactly,” I muttered. “All the more reason not to.”

That made his lips twitch, and then a voice floated in behind him, “Nik, who’s at the—”

Natalie’s words died on her lips when her eyes fell on me. Her lips lifted into a big smile, “Nathan, hey!” She greeted, ever so cheerfully. God, I hate her fake enthusiasm.

“Come in, come in,” she said quickly. “We’re just about to have dinner.”

I opened my mouth to decline, but she was already moving, her hand was on my arm, and she tried to pull me in. My eyes widened. Why the fuck did she touch me?

“Come on, get in, it’s so cold outside,” she coaxed, letting a little theatrical shiver escape, her gaze drifting to the rain pelting the driveway before it fell on me. “Please,” she added, her face softening when she read my disdain. “Ronald is here, too.”

Why do they keep saying that, as if he were my best friend or something? I barely tolerated him, or her, for that matter.

When I stayed silent, she exhaled and turned to her husband. “Nik, say something.”

I looked at him, and he just nodded his head to the inside of the house, his eyes sending me a silent message that there was no chance I would be able to escape this invitation. I cleared my throat, nodded once, and stepped over the threshold. Natalie’s face lit up instantly as she closed the door behind me, already caging me in.

The warmth inside hit my skin like a damn warning. God, I shouldn’t be doing this, but I walked in nevertheless. My eyes drifted around, and it took me a second to realize that it was my first time inside their house. My eyes drifted over the hallway; along the staircase, frames lined the wall, memories, smiling faces, days when I wasn’t an inconvenience…days that didn’t include me at all.

I stepped further in, my eyes scanning every detail, and that’s when I stopped, dead in my tracks. Fuck. I froze by the entrance of the dining room, because there was another person in here that they failed to fucking mention.

My eyes found him. They flickered from his grey hair to the easy smile on his face, to how he leaned toward Ronald with a fond tap of his hand as he told him to stop piling food on his plate,  just ordinary gestures that felt obscene in my world.

Everything inside me went cold. The air I was breathing, this someone else’s breath running in my veins, the one keeping me alive, turned to stone in my lungs. My chest tightened, my ribs a cage rattling, and I wanted to fucking run away.

He was their father, not mine. The man who’d donated half my DNA but nothing else.

“You failed to mention he’s here too,” I grated under my breath, my eyes still locked on him.

Nikolas, beside me, let out a low sigh. “Get in. He’s not going to eat you.”

I turned to glare at him, my jaw ticking once, then again, then again.

“Don’t be a brat,” Nikolas muttered in a bored tone, like this was just another normal day. “Get inside.”

Before I could fire something back, a small, excited voice cut through the air, one untouched by the wreckage stitched between these walls.

“Uncle Nathan is here!” Her cheerful, bubbly voice was followed by a chair screeching back, then footsteps pattered toward me, fast and clumsy.

At her voice, at the name she called, his eyes lifted from his plate and fell on me. The smile fell from his face in that fleeting instant, then the fork in his hand slipped, clattering against his plate.

Fucking great.

I looked away from him and focused on the blur of pink charging toward me.

Maria came to a halt in front of me, beaming up at me like I was her best friend. Her hair was wrangled into two lopsided ponytails, her pyjamas were pink and plastered in brown teddy bears, and somehow her clueless smile made me want to smile.

I rested a hand on her head and ruffled her already-messy hair. She squealed and grabbed at my hand, her fingers wrapping tightly, “Sit beside me, come,” she chirped, tugging at my arm, and urging me to get in.

I let her pull me, let her guide me inside without once looking at the man.

Maria tapped the chair beside hers, “Sit here,” she instructed, already climbing into her own.

I felt Ronald’s eyes on me before I even turned. When I finally met his gaze, he didn’t wear his usual friendly, ongoing smile. No, his expression was…tense, anxious even. His wary eyes flicked from me to his father, as if my presence alone could send the guy into cardiac arrest, wouldn’t mind it, really.

The old man knew I existed; he also knew I didn’t want anything to do with him. So, he was smart enough not to open his mouth.

My eyes went from Ronald to his wife next to him, who flashed me a small, wary smile before she looked away. Sometimes, I really enjoy how uncomfortable I make them.

“That’s my seat.” Oh, here comes my favorite nephew, the one who stole my fucking name.

I looked up, meeting his unamused glare. His eyebrow arched at my audacity to steal his chair. Cool, let him learn what it feels like to have something taken from him. “No,” Maria said quickly, already climbing up on her chair, standing up, and she rested her hand over her brother’s chest, gently pushing him away, “Nathy, go sit…there,” she pointed at the opposite side.

“Sit beside grandpa,” She instructed, and I smiled as she turned to me. She smiled back, like we shared some secret pact, “Uncle Nathan will sit beside me.”

Oh, I just love her.

Little Nathan rolled his eyes, a harsh breath puffed from his chest as he trudged to the other side of the table. Natalie tried to make the best of this tense situation, aka my presence. She resumed her conversation with the rest, like nothing happened, moving around, filling plates, like this was just any other night.

She passed behind Maria and tapped her shoulder gently. “Sit still, you,” she said in a half-serious mom voice, setting a plate in front of her, with all the pieces cut for her little self to easily eat.

I silenced everyone else and focused on her. I had no appetite, so I didn’t touch my plate, I didn’t listen to what they were talking about, I kept my eyes on the little energy bomb next to me, watching her eat her food, how she grasped her fork in such a clumsy, funny manner, how she stuffed her mouth full, chewing and smearing sauce all over her mouth.

I picked up a napkin and gently dabbed at her face. She turned to me mid-chew, cheeks puffed out like a squirrel, then flashed me a sheepish grin. Her eyes dropped to my untouched plate, then back up to me, more serious now.

She grabbed a handful of chips from her own plate and plopped them onto mine, “Eat,” She instructed.

I shook my head and nudged them back toward her, “I don’t want chips.”

Her eyebrows pulled closer, blinking in confusion, then she shook her head. “No,” she corrected with a frown, “they are not chips, it’s…fries.”

I smiled, “Yeah, I know, but we call them chips.”

She tilted her head, her little eyebrows drawn together in deep concentration, “You talk funny,” She said, probably addressing my accent. “Like…like Wyatt and uncle Roman,” she added with a decisive nod, “they talk funny too.”

I tried not to laugh, but my smile cracked wider anyway at her innocence. She turned back to her plate, grabbed a single chip, and held it up to my mouth. “Eat…chips,” She said, and I took it from her, unable to decline her offer. Her face lit up instantly, and she practically bounced in her seat.

Then she looked up at her dad next to me, her eyes sparkling. I turned to see him already watching her, clearly amused by everything she is; can’t blame him there. He flashed her a wink, and without missing a beat, she grabbed another chip from her plate and held it out to him.

“Daddy, take a chip,” She said, so happy with her new vocab.

His lips twitched, and he accepted it from her, “Thank you,” He said. She beamed and scrunched her nose up at him before she dug back into her plate.

“Uncle Nathan,” She called for me again, already wrestling with a chunk of chicken on her fork, “Will you sleep here?” She asked, “You can stay in my room, my bed is big.”

I shook my head, gently taking her plate and cutting the chicken for her before holding a piece out. She leaned in and took the bite. “No, I will leave in a bit.”

At my words, she frowned. “You have a home?” She asked, curious about me, probably her little brain still adjusting to the fact that I showed up in her life out of nowhere.

I nodded, “Yeah.”

She didn’t look entirely convinced, but instead of pressing further, she grabbed another chip from her plate and held it out to me again. I accepted her offer, chewing on it for her sake.

“Do you have babies?”

My eyebrows pulled closer, and I shook my head, “Not that I know of.”

That seemed to genuinely disappoint her. She huffed out, loudly, “Uncle Ronnie doesn’t have babies, too.” She looked over at Ronald with a dramatic expression as if he had failed her. He smiled at her. She smiled back, graciously forgiving him for his baby-less existence.

Then she leaned closer and whispered, like it was some dark secret, “No one has babies here.”

I nodded and reached up, brushing her messy, loose strands behind her ear, “Well, you are the baby of this family.”

She groaned like I’d said the worst thing imaginable, slumping in her chair and crossing her arms over her chest, “I want more babies, but,” She turned to me, “Lilly said she will make me babies with Chase,” yeah, so I will have to hear his fucking name everywhere.

Maria leaned closer to me and shook her head, “But I don’t want their babies.”

“Why not?” I whispered back in the same conspiratorial tone.

She shrugged, unable to explain it, then she pointed at me, “You make me babies, or…or tell daddy to make another baby.”

I chuckled and shook my head. God, this little conversation with her made me forget where I was, or who was sitting across from me, “I think it’s a bit too late for that.”

Maria looked more confused, and she huffed out, unsatisfied. Her lips curled into a pout, then, as if a thought crossed her head, she looked back at me, “Uncle Nathan,” She called for me again, making me love this uncle word from her, “How do you make babies?”

Oh, okay…

That’s not my territory.

I turned my head to Nikolas, who was already watching us, probably just sitting there listening to our conversation. I flashed him a horrified look and whispered, “Help.”

He shot me a glare and turned his attention back to his daughter, “Come on, Marie, finish your food,” he said in his firm dad voice, “It’s almost your bedtime.”

His words made her glare at him, “No,” She whined, “I want to stay with Uncle Nathan.”

Her father pointed at her food, “Finish your plate, young lady.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, then she turned her head very slowly away from him and gave a little hair flip, her tiny ponytails swinging dramatically. I couldn’t stop the smile that pulled at my lips. God, she was such a little diva.

She chewed quietly for a few seconds, pretending to behave. Then, when she was sure Nikolas wasn’t paying attention, she peeked at him from the corner of her eye. Satisfied that he wasn’t looking, she leaned toward me and subtly waved her tiny hand, urging me closer.

“You know,” She said, whispering, “Mommy told me that…that you eat a baby seed, and then the baby grows in your tummy, like a plant.” A big frown pulled between her brows, like the idea was so silly, and she shook her head, “But I don’t believe her.”

She glanced a look at her mother across the table, who was far too busy refilling plates and managing adult conversation to notice this, “I think she lied to me,” Maria added, offended at the fact. My lips twitched. Yeah, she was Nikolas’s kid for sure, no doubts there.

“Then what do you think really happens?” I asked, curious about what goes on in that little head of hers.

“It’s simple,” she said, very matter-of-fact. “You go to the hospital, and you buy a baby from there.”

She huffed, rolling her eyes like this was common knowledge. “I want to go and buy babies, but…but I don’t have money.” She shook her head in genuine disappointment.

Then, she flashed me her cutest puppy eyes, “Will you give me money, Uncle Nathan?” She asked, ever so serious, “So I can buy a baby, also, also, you drive me to the hospital.” She shook her head with a sigh, “I can’t drive.”

An involuntary laugh vibrated from my chest, and I ran a hand over my face, trying to stop myself and not to get the rest to look at us. Nikolas, next to me, noticed us nevertheless. He tilted his head, his eyebrow arching at his daughter, “What are you plotting?”

She shook her head, “Nothing,” She said ever so innocently, then looked at me and sent me a silent look, urging me to keep her secret. I gave her a nod, and her smile widened. God, can I take her? Keep her with me for a while? How mad would Nikolas really get?

As if reading my thoughts, he urged her to get closer to him, “Come here,” he said fondly as he patted his lap. Maria hopped down and trotted to his side. He scooped her up easily, kissed her head, and whispered something into her hair that made her giggle and melt against his chest.

Her big green eyes fell on me again, then she edged back and looked at him, “Daddy, can Uncle Nathan tuck me into bed tonight?”

Nikolas blinked, then his gaze shifted to me. I shook my head. “I don’t know how to…do that.”

Maria sighed like I was a hopeless case. “I’ll show you.” Then she raised her fingers, counting like a checklist. “We brush my teeth, do my hair, put me in bed, and tell a story. It’s easy.”

Nikolas frowned. “But I always tuck you in.”

“I know,” she said casually. “But tonight I want Uncle Nathan.” His frown deepened, so she hit him with the big guns, the wide puppy eyes, the soft voice, and the drawn-out, “Daddy, pleeeeease.”

He sighed, muttered a grumbly “okay,” and she lit up.

Maria bounced off his lap and made a round around the table, kissing everyone goodnight like this was her ritual.

When she finally reached up to that man, he leaned closer and pecked her cheek, “Goodnight, Grandpa,” she chirped, then paused, suddenly remembering something critical. She turned back, her finger pointing directly at me. “Grandpa, do you know Uncle Nathan?”

The old man looked at her for a moment, stroked her cheek with a fond smile, and nodded. He didn’t look at me, didn’t say a single word. Maria, blissfully unaware, spun around and came straight to me, holding out her hand. I took it and ignored everyone else in the room as I let her lead the way.

Upstairs, she made a whole event of her routine. She made me watch her as she brushed her teeth, then asked me to let loose of her ponytails, sighing comfortably as she ran her hands through the messy strands before she jumped on her bed and got under the covers. She patted the spot next to her, “Come here.”

I edged closer as my gaze drifted to the shelves stacked with children’s books. “Which one do you want me to read?”

She shook her head, “I know them all,” She patted again on the spot next to her, forcing me to sit there, “You tell me a story that you know,” She urged me, a curious little thing, “Something I don’t.”

I exhaled and leaned back against the headboard. My hand rose, almost without thinking, to brush her hair from her face. She blinked up at me with that open, waiting look that little kids have before the world ruins it.

She wants a story? Well, I had plenty. Words and metaphors are the only things that come easily to me, crawling around my skull, tangled and dark.

So, I tried to filter them, lighten them, before I told her a story she didn’t know.

“Once upon a time,” I said, voice low, “there was a boy who lived in a glass house at the bottom of the sea. Not many people knew it was there, because the water was too dark and too deep.”

She blinked up at me, already quiet and interested.

“The boy didn’t have windows, just one little crack in the glass. He used it to watch the stars and the moon above the water. Every night, he’d stare and pretend he was up there too. That he was one of them, bright, far away, untouchable.”

Her eyes fluttered more slowly now.

“But one day…a girl swam by. She wasn’t afraid of the dark. She tapped on the glass, and the boy didn’t answer. So she tapped again, and again, until the crack grew bigger, and light came pouring in. It hurt, at first. But it was…beautiful.”

I paused, watching her breathe.

“She asked him to let her inside, said there were monsters in the sea who would take her if he didn’t. She begged him to break the glass, and he wanted to. He really did. But if the glass broke…” I added, “…the sea would rush in too.”

Her lashes sank, and one hand still clutched the blanket near her chin. She was almost gone.

“So he just stayed there, behind the glass,” I whispered, softer now, “watching the stars, the moon, and the girl as the monsters approached her, and the light above he could never hold.”

I gazed at Maria’s peaceful face, and my lips twitched before I leaned down and pressed a kiss to her temple. I fixed her blanket before I quietly got up. I turned off the lights, cracked the door open. I was about to slip out when I heard approaching footsteps and caught a glimpse of him passing down the hallway.

On instinct, I backed away, stayed in the room, hiding, and waiting for him to pass by so I wouldn’t have to come face to face with him.

Only when I was sure he was gone did I reach for the knob again, but just as I opened it, the door pushed from the other side, and I came face-to-face with Nikolas. His eyes flickered from me to the end of the hallway where that man disappeared into, and in that one glance, I knew he knew.

His gaze flickered to Maria inside, and they softened instantly. “She fell asleep,” I murmured.

He nodded as I stepped out, careful not to make a sound as I shut the door behind me.

I walked a few steps toward the stairs, “Anyway, thanks for dinner,” I said, trying to keep my voice as neutral as possible, “If you get any news from Emma, call me—”

I turned to go, but before I could take another step, Nikolas’s hand closed around my arm, making me halt. I turned around, raised an eyebrow like a warning, but he didn’t take the hint.

I pried his fingers off my sleeve with the kind of care that said don’t push me, but of course, he did. “Why won’t you just talk to him?” He asked, unable to let me leave in peace.

“Because I don’t want to,” I answered flatly. Then, just out of curiosity, I asked, “It’s good he didn’t try to talk to me either. Was that you?”

He nodded, “Well, I told him you are a flight risk,” he pointed out, “Told him to give you space, and distance, maybe you’ll come around later.”

I scoffed, “I won’t.”

“What would you lose if you just got to know him? He’s your fathe—” Before he could resume that word, I shook my head, “No, he is not. Don’t trigger me, Nikolas, you won’t like it.” I was not to be messed with today. I already had enough on my plate.

His jaw tightened, glaring at me like I was this exhausting thing he didn’t know how to deal with, “You see, I don’t get you,” He grated out, “I keep trying to, God knows I do, but I just can’t,” He added, “They’re making an effort, Nathan. Even after everything you did. Ronald, Natalie…even him.” He refrained from using the father-word, proving he was smart. “And you still want nothing to do with any of them.”

“So tell me, what the fuck do you want?”

I shook my head, “You can’t give me what I want.”

He stepped closer. Frustration darkened his gaze, made him look like the version of him I actually respected. “For god’s sake, I am trying to give you a family—”

“I don’t want that!” I snapped, stopping him from saying more, “I never asked for a fucking family, I don’t want it!” I shot out, my hands started to shake, so I clenched them into fists.

“Just because you and I share one thing in common, it doesn’t mean I am like you, Nikolas. I don’t dream of this,” I looked around me at this sickeningly warm home he had built, “This life of yours? It is not the life I want, I am not looking for a wife, or kids, or to have a brother and a sister, or a second chance. I don’t want a seat at your table.  I don’t want a room in your house,” I stressed on each word, “I am not you!”

I took a step closer, “You and I suffer from very different diseases,” I pointed out what he seems to be missing, “And this…this family you speak of, isn’t the cure for my illness, it is not what I want.”

His composure cracked, “Then, what is it that you want!” He shot out, utterly frustrated.

“I just want my father!” I shot back, his words pushing me to the fucking edge, admitting it out loud.

Silence surrounded us for a long second, with only the sound of my own breathing echoing.

“He’s fucking dead, Nathan,” Nikolas grated, his tone low but hard, “and I can’t bring him back.”

I nodded, “Well, you could’ve not killed him, then.”

His eyebrow arched. “You’re still there? After everything he did to you, you’re still holding onto that?”

“Yeah,” I snapped, voice rising, “because everything that happened to me, happened because you killed him. If you hadn’t, he wouldn’t have used me the way he did to get back at you.”

It was sick logic, but it was mine, and Nikolas had picked the wrong night to peel this wound open.

“You want me to look at that stranger and see a father? How could I, when I don’t know him? He didn’t raise me, didn’t take care of me, and as much as you hate it, Isaac is the one who did.”

“He was the one who stayed up at night when I was sick, he was the one who taught me how to talk, how to walk, how to throw a fucking ball,” I couldn’t stop now that he had pushed me, “He was the one who hugged me when I was scared, who wiped my tears away, who held my hand when I fell, he was the only family I had, and the only family I needed,” I said, “Just because he wasn’t that to you, it deosn’t mean he wasn’t a good father to me when he was alive, and if he stayed alive, he would’ve stayed the same.”

Nikolas absorbed every word I said, and it only fed the monster in his eyes. “Well, here is the thing, if I’d go back, I would just do it all over again, the exact same way,” He said, his voice eerily calm and steady, “There is not a thing in this world that will make me regret killing him.”

I knew what he fucking meant, that even if I had to go through everything I went through again, he would just do it. A groan rumbled from my throat, and the impulse ripped through me. I raised my fist, ready to drive it into his fucking face, but his hand grasped it before it even got close.

His grip tightened, enough to hurt. He edged his face closer, “You are the one who shouldn’t trigger me, Nathan,” He grated out, the words seething, “I have been showing you my good side for too long that you’ve probably forgotten what I am capable of,” He warned, genuine in his threat, “Don’t make me do what I should’ve done the second you hurt my son,” He added.

“So, if you’re still hell-bent on blindly believing in Isaac, then congrats, you got exactly what you wanted.” He let go of my hand, the force harsh enough to make me stumble back, “You no longer have a seat at my table,” He nodded ahead, “Get out of my house.”

I didn’t need more, didn’t want more. I was down the stairs and out before any of the others inside could sense the storm I’d left behind. The door slammed behind me, and I stalked toward my car, every step louder in my head than it was on the ground. My fingers trembled as I reached for the handle. I stared at them, twitching, untamed, and pressed my eyes shut.

Get a grip.

Get. A. Grip.

The fire in my chest, that ancient, acidic burn that used to eat me alive before the surgery, it was back. Curling through my ribs, crushing the borrowed lung like it was made of paper and ash. God, this pain was all too familiar.

A low, guttural sound crawled from my throat, and I pressed a hand to my chest like I could crush the ache before it crushed me.

“You okay?”

The voice that came from my left had my head shot up right away. My eyes fell on little Nathan as he stood on the edge of the path, his brows furrowed, hands buried in the pockets of his jacket, warily watching me.

My jaw ticked, and I nodded once, just enough to send him off. I gripped the door handle tighter, ready to disappear before the world saw any more of me unraveling. The little thief flashed me one last confused look before he turned, his shoulders tight as he started walking away and down the street.

I blinked, confused, and watched his small figure shrink with each step. Where the hell was he going at this time?

My eyes flickered back to the house, and well, the devil Nikolas had just triggered in me was wide awake, his teeth bared, snarling in my chest. I got into my car and pulled out of the driveway, slowly, headlights off as I watched and followed him. Looks like I might just have to teach Nikolas another lesson.

Little Nathan turned right at the end of the block. Curious, I rolled forward, just enough to catch the path he took. A car was parked at the corner. He glanced around, once, twice, before slipping into the passenger side.

Seconds later, the car peeled off, headlights cutting through the dark, speeding away like it had somewhere urgent to be.

Confused and intrigued, I pulled up behind them, trying to keep my distance so as not to draw attention. They made turns, more than a few, winding through streets I didn’t know by name, passing through neighborhoods that bled quietly.

Half an hour passed, maybe more, till they finally stopped.

I looked around the  dimly lit, narrow street. There was one building at the end, brick and worn, its edges crumbling, but it was buzzing with faint lights, the thrum of voices leaking out.

I killed my engine and parked a distance away, my eyes locked on the scene. The passenger door opened, and Nathan stepped out. A beat later, the driver did too. I leaned forward, squinting through the windshield.

My brows pulled low, my head tilted, and a slow grin tugged at my mouth.

Well, well. Isn’t that Emma’s little boy, Wyatt?

They exchanged a few words I couldn’t hear, then disappeared into the building.

I leaned back against the seat, drumming my fingers on the steering wheel.

Now, what exactly are you two little troublemakers up to?

I got out of the car and followed them. The closer I got, the louder the voices grew. I slipped past the entrance, trying to make sense of my surroundings. The air inside was thick, sweaty, metallic, soaked with cheap perfume and…blood?

Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, the sound enough to scratch at my nerves. My gaze drifted around, taking notice of the graffiti scrawled across the walls, what looked like tagged names, gang signs, and crude skulls dripping paint like blood.

Bodies were crowded on the edge of the space, half of them shirtless, some wearing chains around their necks, most looked bruised, like they’d bled at least once this week. Men. Women. Teens too. Everyone here knew what this was.

And it didn’t take me long to figure it out, either.

This was an underground ring, most probably illegal, and judging by the stacked cash on the table and the shouts from the back, it wasn’t just for fun.

My gaze swept across the chaos, trying to understand how Nathan and Wyatt could belong to such a crowd. These two were supposed to be the good ones, weren’t they? The ones with curfews and concerned, too-good-to-be-true, perfect parents and big trust funds. So, what in god’s name was going on in here?

A spotlight snapped on, illuminating the center of the ring. The crowd roared, surging forward. I pushed through them, my height giving me the advantage, my eyes glued to the arena.

A man stepped into the center, someone my age, maybe, his body built like a fucking war machine, tattoos coiled up both of his arms. He cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders, the noise alone enough to send a warning.

Then, then, the last thing I could ever expect happened…little Nathan stepped into the ring.

My blood froze.

My chest stilled, my eyes locked on the boy as he ducked under the ropes.

His hands were wrapped in cloth, knuckles exposed, a dark smear across one side, blood or dirt, I couldn’t tell. He wore a black shirt, too thin for this weather, and gym shorts.

For fuck’s sake, he was younger, much younger than the man waiting across from him.

What the hell is going on?

A chant began, “Game on! Game on!” The crowd clapped, stomping feet, and I couldn’t fucking breathe.

Then, the horn blared, the man lunged, and little Nathan moved forward to meet him.

They circled each other, the tension coiled in every movement. The man swung first, but the kid ducked, smooth, sharper than I expected. He pivoted, barely grazing the edge of the concrete with his heel as he dodged a second blow.

I leaned in slightly, my eyes narrowing. What the fuck…

The man attacked again, but this time, little Nathan didn’t dodge. He sidestepped, his movements fluid, and he rammed his fist straight into the man’s chest.

The crack echoed, and the guy stumbled a step back.

What the hell?

I blinked, unsure if it was the smoke in the air or the fact that he just landed that hit. He looked smaller, outmatched. But somehow…he wasn’t folding.

He followed up, and the second one slammed the man’s jaw, turning his head to the side.

The crowd roared. I didn’t. Something tightened behind my ribs, like I’d forgotten to breathe.

The older man spat, wiped his mouth, and I saw in his eyes how he snapped; his eyes went feral at the humiliation. He let out a guttural sound and lunged, his shoulder barreling into the kid’s gut like a battering ram. Then, his fist connected with little Nathan’s face, loud enough to silence half the crowd.

I felt that hit in my teeth, and my jaw clenched so hard it ached.

The boy’s back crumpled against the ropes, blood smearing at the corner of his mouth.

Something in me broke loose, just instinct, pure and violent. I shoved forward, tearing through the crowd. I vaulted the rope and dropped into the ring faster than anyone could stop me.

Before the man could register my presence, my hand fisted in his shirt and yanked him back from the boy. His eyes went wide, just in time for my forehead to slam into his, bone on bone, a dull crack reverberating through my skull. He stumbled. Good.

“Fight someone your own fucking age,” I snarled, and my fist shot up, connecting with his cheek, once, twice, again, harder. The last blow knocked him back, sprawling into the ropes. He staggered, falling down in a daze.

I turned around, my eyes meeting little Nathan’s wide ones. He looked bewildered, shocked by my presence. His mouth was bleeding, a thin line of red trickling down his chin.

My eyes flicked past him, up, to the edge of the ring. Wyatt stood there, the same bewilderness rushed in his eyes at the fact that I caught them. I leaned down, curled my hand over Nathan’s arm, and pulled him up.

My jaw ticked, “What kind of trouble did you two get yourselves into?”

⊹˚₊‧─────────────────‧₊˚⊹

Author’s Note:

Well, Nathan is playing his protective uncle role xD

Anyways, who do you think will come running after the other first, Nathan or Aylin? 😉

See ya next week! 🩶