Chapter 17

“I hate her for that.
For the tremor she stitched into my pulse,

Because now I live.
And I live like a wound,
open,
aching,
forever hers.“

Nathan’s POV

The whole place went dead quiet after.

The man I hit was still sprawled on the floor, blood pooling beneath his head, his chest rising just enough to remind me I hadn’t finished the job. The crowd’s roar faded into a hush, everyone shocked by the sudden turn of events.

My hand clamped tightly around Nathan’s arm as I hauled him out of the ring. Wyatt’s voice chased us from behind, already building up trouble. I didn’t stop until we reached the far end of the corridor, a dim corner, far enough from the rest of the crowd.

Little Nathan jerked his arm free. “Let go!” he snapped, shoving himself back, his eyes cutting into me like he had any right to glare. His lip was split, and a thin line of red was drying against his jaw.

Wyatt’s voice ripped through the air as he came to our side, “Do you even know what you just did?”

Then, he fucking shoved me.

My brow arched. I looked down at the spot he touched, then back up at him slowly. Very brave of him. Stupid, too. My knuckles itched with the kind of reminder that I didn’t need permission to end a conversation.

“Go ahead,” I murmured. “Try that again.”

He shot me a hard glare, his jaw flexing, but I could see the pulse jump in his neck.

I looked between them both, exhaling the last of my patience. “Start talking.” My tone was threateningly calm. “It’s obvious these people are some kind of gang, so explain to me, in words I can tolerate, how the hell you two ended up in their ring.”

Wyatt’s jaw ticked before he shot a look at his cousin, some silent message passing between them that I wasn’t meant to catch.

Little Nathan wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, his eyes flicking between Wyatt and me. Unlike his cousin, he seemed slightly relieved that I was here.

“Don’t even think about lying,” I said, “I’ve already had my dose of bullshit for the night.”

A low sigh parted the kid’s mouth, and he looked at me. He opened his mouth to speak, but Wyatt stepped in fast, his voice sharp, “Nathan, don’t!” He hissed, his eyes widening, flicking to the kid with a look that screamed betrayal.

“I told you we needed to tell someone,” Nathan shot back, his voice cutting through the tension.

Wyatt dragged a hand over his face and hair, frustration carved deep in every line of his expression. That’s when I noticed that his right arm was a bit stiff, hanging motionlessly at his side. Hmmm, interesting. So, this isn’t their first time here.

“Yeah,” Wyatt grated out, “someone like my dad, or yours. Not him,” He addressed me with utter disgust.

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “Just for the record, I did happen just to save little Nathan’s life.”

Wyatt’s head snapped toward me; that amount of hate in his eyes felt way too familiar. God, he really was his mother’s son.

“No one asked for your help,” he spat out.

“Yeah,” I lifted my hands, mock-surrender. “And yet, miracle of the century, I helped anyway. You’re very much welcome.”

He curled his hand into a fist but flinched halfway through it, his expression twisting in pain. My head tilted, my curiosity piqued. Then I stepped closer, close enough to make him tense. His eyebrows pulled closer, “What are you doing?” he shot in panic, trying to back away.

“Testing a theory,” I murmured, and before he could move again, I grabbed his right shoulder and squeezed it. He stumbled back with a hiss of pain. “You fucker,” he gritted out, clutching his arm.

Little Nathan shoved himself between us, “Leave him alone!” He shot out at me, being protective of his cousin. So adorable.

I smiled, “Well, call it a hunch,” I said, “but all of this feels like Wyatt’s doing.” I looked at Nathan, trying to extract the truth out of him, “He screwed up, and dragged you into it. So, are you gonna talk, or should I let those charming gentlemen back there finish what they started?”

Wyatt, despite his apparent injury, pushed forward, as if ready to fight me, this little stubborn gremlin. The audacity was almost cute. Nathan, apparently the only one in this family with a functioning brain, caught his cousin’s good arm and hissed something under his breath. Wyatt shook his head, still clinging to his pride, but the kid repeated something, more serious and sharp.

When Wyatt kept quiet, Nathan turned to me. His blue eyes fell on mine, and his throat bobbed. “Look, we could use your…help.”

My lips curved higher, and I folded my arms across my chest, basking in this. Well, wasn’t that music to my ears? Maybe today wouldn’t be a total waste of oxygen after all.

“I didn’t agree to that, by the way,” Wyatt barked, still glaring at me like the little bitch he was.

Little Nathan shot him a glare of his own. “Wyatt, for god’s sake…they broke your shoulder, and they’re twice our size. We’re not walking out of this without help, and you know it!” His anger flushed up his neck, his voice shaking between frustration and fury.

I raised a hand lazily, “Cute little family debate, but—hi—uh, question.” Both pairs of eyes flicked to me as I added. “What makes you think I want to help you?”

I looked at the little kid with my name. “Did you forget that I tried to kill you not so long ago?”

He rolled his eyes. This reckless brat…he was kinda brave, but a brat nonetheless. “Yeah. But would you really let someone else steal the pleasure of doing it from you?”

I chuckled, “Touché.” I said, and then shrugged. “But yeah, definitely not.”

Then I stepped closer, rubbing my hands together, the adrenaline already pumping in my veins. “So,” I said, my grin widening, “who am I killing, and why?”

“You don’t need to know the details,” Wyatt shot back, still salty.

“Oh, I love me a mystery,” I said. I edged closer, consuming his personal space to make him more uncomfortable. “Let me play detective for five seconds,” I hummed, enjoying this way too much, “So, uhm, something must’ve happened. I don’t know, maybe drugs, maybe a debt, or maybe…a girl,” My head tilted as I tried to read the shift in his expression, “A bit of a classic, ain’t it?”

“Anyway, because of that, you lost something, maybe you offended the wrong people, you tried to play hero, and you had to fight one of them to settle it down.” I explained my theory, “They broke your shoulder, evidently,” I pointed ahead at him, “But oopsie doopsie, you still owed them a fight, so you dragged your little cousin into it—”

“He didn’t drag me,” Nathan interrupted, correcting my words, “I offered to help.”

“And why would you do that, exactly?”

“Because they would’ve killed him,” Nathan shot back.

“You’re so adorable, really,” I said in all mock-sincerity, “But I am still missing something over here,” I looked at Wyatt, “You literally have an army behind you, you could’ve asked anyone’s help and they would’ve erased your problem in one minute, scratch that, seconds even,” My eyebrow raised, “So, why didn’t you?”

Wyatt’s jaw clenched, and he looked away like I just caught him red-handed, so I resumed the words on his behalf, “But yeah, right, you couldn’t let mommy dearest know about this, that her adorable little boy is a bit troubled, now could you?”

He breathed out a heavy breath. Nathan watched him with a wary expression and was the one to speak, trying to be diplomatic, “If you are going to help us, you can’t tell anyone.”

I smiled, “How could I,” I added, ever so softly, “Snitches end up in ditches, after all,” I said with a wink, placing a hand on my chest, “and I happen to like being above ground, thank you very much.”

Before I could say more, footsteps echoed down the corridor. I turned just as a man stepped out of the shadows and approached us. He looked older than these two kids, but younger than me. He didn’t dress like the others inside, I noticed. This one seemed cleaner, sharper, probably someone who thought himself important.

Something about him itched beneath my skin. Maybe it was the grin on his face, or maybe it was the way his eyes found Wyatt, locked on him the way a predator catches his prey.

“Rules, kid,” he said as he took a pause ahead of us, his voice dripping with mock disappointment. “You broke them again.”

A reptilian smile pulled at his lips, “You see, maybe this started with Mila…”

Ah. So there it is. A girl. It always is.

“…but my people,” he went on, “they like watching a little Italian prince get his ass kicked.” So, he does know who Wyatt is; this just keeps getting wilder. “Word spreads fast, you know. Bets are flying. Views are up. The next fight’s gonna make us a fortune.”

He chuckled, low and proud of his own villainy. The sound made my jaw tighten, so I stepped forward, blocking his view. His eyes left the kid and fell on me, his eyebrow arched in question. “Wow,” I said, my tone light, “you’ve got a real talent for talking without saying anything smart or at least threatening, do you?”

His brow drew down. “Excuse me?”

“You’re excused,” I said.

“Who the fuck are you?” he asked, stepping closer.

I smiled like he’d just complimented me. “Your problem. For now,” I said, “Until I kill you, and I’ll become someone else’s problem.”

He scoffed, “You think this is a joke?”

“Oh, absolutely not,” I said with fake seriousness, “But you’ve got two choices, you walk away, leave the kid alone and keep whatever teeth you still have…or you stay, make this more interesting and I’ll teach you how to swallow your own words.”

His grin faltered completely then, and he stepped closer, as if to threaten me. I scoffed. I eat guys like him for breakfast. “Ooh, are we trying to be intimidating now?” I cooed, my eyes wide with mock terror. “How original.”

“You have no idea who I am, do you?” he snarled.

I chuckled, “No, and the sweet, beautiful thing is, you don’t know who I am either.” My hands moved like a casual blessing as I reached up and straightened his collar, fingers brushing his throat, the one I’ll be slicing later on. “You want your people to watch a mafia prince fighting, well then you’ve got me, and believe me, this is going to be one for the history books.”

He pushed himself away from me and my touch. His nostrils flared, “You don’t know what you are signing up for,” He tried to threaten me again.

I let out a bored sigh. Why don’t they make villains interesting anymore? “Yeah, I am so scared,” I said with a yawn, “Anyways, I wanna fight you, not your men,” I pointed out, “I wanna see you get your hands dirty and, if you win, you can have Wyatt,” I pointed at the kid behind me, “You can kick his ass as much as you please, I promise, even better, you can have the other one too,” I pointed at little Nathan, “you know, buy one, get one for free, so how about we settle this fast?”

I checked my watch, “I don’t have all night because.”

His jaw tightened, and he nodded, “Okay,” he nodded, “The fight will be here. Same place, tomorrow night.”

“Nah.” I shook my head, “Up on the roof, in half an hour.” I shrugged because rules are for people who don’t make them.

His face faltered like someone realized the stage had flipped. I smiled and added, “I’m a busy man, and I like me an open space.” I looked around me and grimaced, “It smells awful in here anyway.” I winked. “Or are you scared you won’t have time to prepare?” I put the question to him and his men, practically handing him the spotlight and watching him squirm.

He had no clean answer. Pride and pressure are terrible suits to wear when someone else rips them off for you. His jaw worked, and the fire in his eyes flickered, a fire I am going to extinguish with my bare hands. “In half an hour,” he grated, then spun and marched off, his puppy bodyguards clattering behind him.

I turned around, my eyes falling on the two kids, who looked quite shocked and not quite trustful of what I just did. Nathan opened his mouth to speak, but I held my hand up, shushing him as I dialed Adam and pressed the phone to my ear, “Hey, I’ve got something for you. I am sending you the location,” I ordered, “Be here as fast as you can.”

“On my way,” Adam answered without questioning.

Wyatt flashed me a wary look. My eyebrow raised, “What’s with the distrustful eyes, Wyatt?” I commented. He looked at little Nathan, then back at me, “What if you can’t pull this off?” He said, his shoulders even more tense than before, “You kind of sold us out if you lose.”

I smiled and purposefully tapped a hand on his injured shoulder, making him wince, “Believe me, I can totally pull this off,” I said, “And well, you don’t seem to have any other options but me now, do you?”

⊹˚₊‧──────────────‧₊˚⊹

The rooftop was cold enough to bite.

Wind slashed through the air, brushing its fingers in my hair, and I hummed, savoring it all. The city below was a smear of light and smoky fog. Above, the sky was bruised black, clouds dragging the beautiful big moon across it.

The boys stood a few feet behind me, still uncertain of everything I was doing. I didn’t need their trust anyway; I just needed to finish this fast and go light up a cigarette. Ah, the wait was almost worth it.

I pulled my sweatshirt over my head, and the night air hit my skin, but it didn’t register; the heat roaring inside me drowned it all out. My pulse was a snarl. My blood hummed with that old, ugly thrill, the one that used to mean survival, now just meant purpose.

I tossed my sweatshirt at Nathan, and he hastily caught it. “Wear it and stop shivering like a kid,” I said, and he shot me a glare before he threw it next to him, being a brat per usual.

The wind clawed at my skin. I was left in my black T-shirt only, but I was already burning.

The door to the stairwell creaked open behind me. Heavy boots hit the concrete, approaching us. The guy from before, whose name was Vince, so I’ve learned from Wyatt, walked out first. He was tall, probably my height, but his skin was too white for my taste, his eyes too blue, the skin of his arm full of ugly tattoos, and a sick grin on his face that he thought was scary. Three of his men trailed after him, one carrying a handheld camera.

Of course, they brought a camera.

I chuckled, “Oh, we’re filming?” I asked, mock-delighted. “Damn it, Vince, if I’d known, I would’ve dressed for the occasion.”  I glanced at the lens and gave it my best charming smile. “Lucky for you, I’m very photogenic.”

Vince smirked, gesturing to the guy with the lens. “People like to see pain up close; they pay more when they do.”

My grin widened, “Oh, they will see so much pain, alright.” I said, my eyes only on him, “You want blood on camera? Fine. Someone’s gonna get rich tonight.”

He nodded, “Yeah, me.” He leaned in, his eyes bright with the kind of cruel glee you only get when you’ve convinced yourself you’re the main character, “When I smash your face into concrete and break your thick skull.”

“Aww, stop talking dirty to me,” I said, taunting him back, “I’m too delicate for that.”

His jaw tightened, “Big mouth for someone standing alone.”

“Oh, sweet Vince,” I murmured, clenching and unclenching my fists, “you’ll learn, in a few seconds, that I do my best work alone.”

The fight started with a spark, literally. One of his men flicked a lighter nearby, and the brief flash caught in Vince’s grin before it vanished. “Three…two…” The other man spoke, announcing the start, “One. Go!”

Vince came in hard, with too much effort for a first move. He swung wide, but I ducked, fast and close, catching him right under the ribs. The impact made a cracking noise I liked too much, breathless and ugly, and so very sweet.

His eyes fired up at how I quickly gained the upper hand, and he tried again, a jab, a feint, a swing meant to hurt me, but every attempt landed him closer to the lesson I am teaching him.

I read his body language fast, his fight moves, too predictable for the trained eyes. He lunged, elbowed, tried to trap me with brute angles. I answered each with a small arithmetic of pain, my palm slammed him under his chin, then my fist crashed into his sternum. It sent him breathless, the force pushed him back, groaning in agony, his teeth jangling, the blood spurring and freckling free down his face. God, so beautiful.

I didn’t waste time, I kneed him in the stomach, pushing him back, and back, till we were close to the edge, every move I made unmade his balance until he was a puppet jerking on snapped strings.

His back crashed against the cliff, his face contorted in pain and bewilderment at the impact. The blood trailing below his jaw and neck, painting his shirt, was just so beautiful; for a second, the world narrowed to the bright, inevitable rhythm of it. God, I always found beauty in pain.

This one scene alone got the words chasing behind my eyes. I haven’t been able to write one sentence down since…since well, you know what, but now, I was free, I was breathing.

I leaned down, my fingers curled over his shirt, and I pulled him up, closer to the edge, closer to my face, “I am hoping it’s a good angle from here,” I said, my lips curving up, “Because you look too damn good not to be filmed,” I added with a wink.

His men, trained to defend him, didn’t let this be a fair fight. One of them lunged at me from the side, pushing me away, just enough to free his prince.  An idiotic move, I might add. I didn’t hesitate and met him with a hard inner-forearm to the throat that knocked the wind out of him and turned his move into a sprawl.

That’s when the third guy came at me. I caught his wrist, twisted, and used his own momentum to toss him forward, but just as I was busy fighting this one, the other fucker I shoved away came back prepared, and all I felt was the sharp jab to my temple, his fist slamming me in the face, so fucking hard. For a long second, I saw black.

I blinked, once, twice, and felt the warm blood trickle down my temple. A low groan rumbled from my chest, and that punch lit something feral in me. The quiet tether that keeps most men human snapped.

The world sharpened around me, and I wanted to bleed them dry.

The beast in me roared alive. I moved with more purpose, with unhinged madness as I tore them into fucking pieces. I slammed a shoulder into one, spun, and drove a heel into another’s knee until he cried and collapsed against the edge. I didn’t stop. I fucking pushed him over it, his body collapsing into the car below with a muffled crack, and that sound alone almost calmed me down.

I turned back to carry on and finish the other guy before I end Vince once and for all, but that’s when I noticed that little Nathan didn’t stay on the sidelines. No, he must’ve interfered and got in when they overpowered me for a second. He was utterly stupid, wasn’t he?

I watched as Vince lunged for him again. He grabbed the kid and slammed him hard to the concrete. For a breath, everything went wrong, then I moved faster than I thought possible. In a span of a second, my hand reached for the fucker, my fingers grasped at his hair, pulling his head back so fucking harshly. Without a second thought, I pulled my knife out and let the sharp edge meet his skin. It sliced his throat in one precise, thin line that stole the life from him.

He choked, scrambling for breath, a sweet melody. I leaned in, “If anyone’s gonna kill my nephew,” I hissed in his ear, “It’s gonna be me.”

His body went slack, then he folded and hit the cold, bloody concrete with a dull thud. The rooftop held the sound and nothing else for a heartbeat.

I hooked my fingers under Nathan’s arm and hauled him up. “Don’t play hero again,” I scolded.

He yanked his arm free and shot me a glare that was mostly annoyance. “You’re an asshole, you know that?” he muttered, salty at my lack of gratefulness.

I nodded, “Yeah, I know,” I said, “at least I am good at it.”

I ignored him and looked around. I couldn’t help the small swell of satisfaction that rose in me. They were all down. I moved toward the camera and, without a second thought, hurled it off the roof. Plastic cracked against metal three stories below, and then silence swallowed the splintered noise.

I turned to the two kids, “Come on,” I said, nodding toward the stairwell. “Quick.”

As we descended, I pulled out my phone and dialed. “You done?”

“Yes,” Adam answered, his voice steady as always.

“Good,” I murmured, ushering Wyatt and Nathan ahead. We slipped out the back exit, the cold night air rushing to greet us like it already knew what was coming.

“Step back,” I said, guiding them away from the building until we stood at a safe distance. I looked at the old, worn-out place, unaware it was living its last few seconds.

My lips curved into a slow smile as I raised the phone to my ear again. “Okay,” I told Adam softly. “Now.”

The response came in the language of fire.

The first whisper of a crackle answered me. It was small at first, a crack, a paper snapping, and then it fed itself. Gasoline doesn’t announce a fire; it seduces it.

The sound bloomed. Crack. Snap. A metallic hiss. Then flame found flame, and the whole place erupted in a slow, obscene bloom of orange. It ate the night, licking at tar, then cloth, then the timbers. Smoke coiled up in thick, black ribbons, swallowing the moonlight.

I heard screams, muffled cries, people crashing into each other as they ran, trying to save themselves before it was too late. The sparks popped. The smell rolled up, the hot oil, burned plastic, the sweet iron of blood, and I breathed it all in. An asbosulte choas, bright, terrible, gorgeous.

My lips curved up, my smile widened in a way that felt almost tender, genuine as I watched the fire eat the place up. God, I love to watch things burn. I breathe better when surrounded by suffocating smoke.

I turned to the two kids, their faces lit by the blaze behind us. Shock painted them in shades of red and gold. They stood there, still trying to process everything that had unfolded in the last hour, and failing miserably.

“Move,” I said, shoving them forward before the fire decided to take more than the building.

We cut through the back road, shoes slapping against asphalt slick with soot and ash, until the enticing red and orange faded behind us. The cars were still where we’d left them. Not long after, Adam came to my side and flashed me a knowing look. I patted his back, proud of the masterpiece of mayhem he gave me.

I turned to Wyatt, “I have a feeling that they won’t come after you again,” I said, certain now, “And even if they do, I’ll know it,” I added, “So you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

He stared at me for a long moment, and his throat bobbed heavily, as if struggling with something he couldn’t voice out loud. He forced himself to look away and faced his cousin. Little Nathan asked quietly, “What will you do now?”

Wyatt dragged a hand down his face. “Book the next flight home, probably. My parents think I’m in Europe with friends.” He scoffed at the notion, a sound somewhere between disbelief and exhaustion.

I tilted my head and nodded to his shoulder. “And what’s the story gonna be?” I asked. “Skiing accident?”

He scoffed and nodded as he reached for his shoulder and winced, “Probably.”

“What about you?” Wyatt asked Little Nathan, eyes flicking to the bruise near his jaw.

Nathan shrugged, “Fell during soccer practice?” He suggested in mockery, “Could work, right?”

Wyatt gave him a short, tired smile and mouthed, “Thanks.” There were a hundred unsaid things packed behind that one soft look in his eyes.

Nathan shook his head, “I did nothing.”

Then, Wyatt turned to me, and his gaze hardened instantly, “Don’t expect a thank you from me.”

I shrugged, “Cool, I don’t like that word, anyway.”

“This changes nothing,” He added, his jaw tightening, “I still hate you. Keep that in your mind.”

I smiled, “Aww, me too.”

I watched the way his jaw tightened, and I leaned closer because I liked watching people implode, “But you see, I love the irony in all of this,” I said. He blinked, confused, so I clarified it for him, “I know exactly why you hate me,” I said, “And the irony is, if Noah were alive, he’d be the one dragging you out of this mess, wouldn’t he?”

That did it. His face went raw, anger folding into something more brutal. “Shut up!” he snapped and stepped in. Nathan, diplomatic as ever, planted himself between us and pushed my chest, “Can you not be an asshole for once?” he grumbled, shooting me a hard glare.

I flashed him an innocent look and shrugged, “I don’t know how not to.”

He muttered something under his breath before he dragged his cousin away from me and talked to him, attempting to calm him down. I watched them as they spoke, and then they exchanged a quick bro-hug. Aww, they’re so cute, aren’t they?

With that, Wyatt walked to his car, and Nathan came back to my side. I flashed Adam a look he understood. He nodded his head and quickly took off right after, ready to keep an eye on the kid till he arrived home, making sure he’d go back to his parents in one piece.

I looked at the other kid, “So, little Nathan, what will you do now?”

“Stop calling me that,” he grunted.

“Fair, but we need to find you another name,” I suggested, “My brain glitches every time I call you with my name.”

He rolled his eyes and ignored my words. He looked down at himself and a low, tired sigh parted his lips, “I can’t go home looking like this,” He mumbled, addressing his dirty, bloodied clothes and his bruised face.

I gave him a lookover, “Yeah, your father is too smart to be tricked by whichever lie you will fabricate.”

He huffed, deflated. I shoved my hands in my pockets and offered the only solution I knew, “You can crash at my place tonight,” I suggested. His head shot up to me, utterly taken aback. “You can shower and change,” I stepped closer, my fingers ghosting under his chin to tilt his face up, inspecting the bruise, “and I can try and make this look…less terrible.”

He winced and pulled his head back, his eyes still flashing me that look of disbelief. My eyebrow raised, “What?”

He shook his head, “I don’t trust you not to kill me in my sleep.”

I smiled, “Well, I’ve had my healthy dose of killing for the night, I am satisfied,” I said, and threw my arm over his shoulders, forcefully pulling him toward my car, “So, you’re fine,” I ruffled his hair like he was a dog, and he groaned in irritation. “You’ve got nothing to worry about. For now.”

He looked around, sighed, and eventually climbed into my car because, really, what choice did he have?

I slid into the driver’s seat, turned the key, and let the engine purr. My body relaxed, the adrenaline melting into something sweeter. Who knew my disastrous night would take such a delicious turn?

The kid stared out the window, his fingers drumming against his thigh in nervous rhythm. I let the silence stretch long enough for him to feel it. When his eyes finally flicked to me, he asked, “You’re not going to tell anyone, right?”

I shook my head, “First off, I’m a man of my word, shocking, I know. Second, it’s not like Wyatt’s parents or your parents are exactly on my Christmas card list.” I lifted a brow. “They hate me, and the feeling’s mutual. So, no, I’m not about to ruin my evening by talking to them.”

His eyebrows pulled together. “My parents don’t hate you.”

I flashed him a knowing look, “They do, kid. Trust me, especially that mother of yours.”

That earned me confusion, maybe even a spark of disbelief. He studied me like I was a riddle that refused to be solved. “You’re stupid, you know that?” he said, almost impressed at the revelation.

My eyebrow raised, “And you’re quite brave for someone so little.” He’s got a nerve, alright.

He rolled his eyes, “No, seriously,” he said, “my mom doesn’t hate you…even when she probably should.” The last words came out low, almost like he regretted them midair.

“And what makes you so sure?”

He flashed me an incredulous look and pointed at himself, “Well, she named me after you, for starters.”

I frowned and glanced at him with distaste, “Yeah, I am still bitter about that one.”

He huffed, gave up on trying to argue with me, and turned to the window. “You’re unbelievable,” he grumbled, almost to himself.

I drummed my fingers against the steering wheel, the rhythm syncing with the hum of the engine. “Anyway, if you want me to keep silent,” I said casually, “you could at least tell me what really happened with Wyatt.”

He didn’t answer, so I kept going, “While we were waiting, I did a little digging. Turns out that Vince guy was Mila’s brother.” I glanced at him, caught the flicker of shock on his face. “So who’s Mila, really? Wyatt’s girlfriend?”

He shook his head, then he nodded, “Well,” he said finally, “she was. Kind of.”

“And?” I questioned when he kept silent for too long.

A low breath parted his lips, his eyes dropping to his hands. “Well, Vince and his group…they work for the Russians,” he said quietly. “Wyatt figured that out a little too late.”

My eyebrow raised, “Oh,” I said, amused, “that explains it. That fucker did look Russian. That must’ve been why I didn’t like him.”

Nathan threw me a flat look that could’ve been patented by his father. “Anyway,” he continued, tone clipped, “Mila was working with her brothers. She kind of—” he hesitated, “—she kind of tricked Wyatt. He thought she was just an exchange student at his college,” He scoffed, “but apparently, she had other plans.”

I tilted my head, amused. “Let me guess, not a shared Netflix account?”

He ignored my nonsense words, his jaw tightening. “She only wanted a way into his house.”

That got my attention. My smirk faltered, just slightly. “And what exactly were they hoping to find?”

Nathan shook his head. “I don’t know all the details, but she found out about a storage place, where Uncle Roman and Emma keep the heavy weapons…you know, the serious stuff.” He added, and I nodded, urging him to carry on, “So, they infiltrated the place after, stole a lot of weapons, and well, a lot of our men got hurt that day and some even…died in that fight.”

“So, that’s why Wyatt doesn’t want his parents to know about this?”

He nodded, “He thinks it’s his fault. He feels responsible for what happened, and he wanted to fix it before anyone found out.”

I stared ahead, quiet for a beat, then reached for the glove box. This definitely calls for a smoke. I fished out the pack of cigarettes, pulled one free, and caught the kid watching me like I’d just pulled a grenade instead.

I extended my hand, “You want one?” I offered.

He frowned. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “And I don’t think you should either.” His tone turned almost scolding. “Didn’t my dad just get you a new lung?”

I placed the cigarette between my lips, flicked the lighter, and smiled around the flame. “Yeah,” I said, inhaling deeply, letting the smoke fill me before I breathed it out slowly. Ah, heaven. “But who cares?”

Little Nathan sighed, staring at me like I was the world’s worst role model, which, to be fair, I am.

⊹˚₊‧─────────────‧₊˚⊹

One Month Later…

Aylin’s POV

I tossed the empty matcha cup into the nearest bin before I slipped my AirPods in, cranked the volume until the bass drowned everything else, and started jogging.

The air around me smelled of salt and something sweet from a nearby café. The loud song filled my skull, thudding against bone, loud enough to stop my thoughts from chewing through me.

The path curved along the marina was wide and cloudy. Runners passed me by as I moved, strangers with steady rhythms and steadier lives than mine. To my right, the horizon shimmered beautifully at a distance, and the sea sprawled out, dotted with boats that rocked in slow motion.

My hair was pulled into a high ponytail, but the brown leggings and fitted jacket did nothing to warm me. The air was cool, sharp against my skin, the kind of weather that made you think you could start over if you just kept moving fast enough.

But I’ve been running all month, and nothing’s changed.

It’s been weeks since that night at the cabin, and I still don’t feel steady. I tell myself it’s fine, that memories fade, that forgetting is normal, but no, none of what’s happening to me is normal by any means.

And I keep wondering, how many times has this happened?

How many times have I forgotten something I wasn’t supposed to?

It’s not paranoia if it’s patterned, right?

Because it had happened to me more than once. I am so sure now.

Once, I woke up with a sprained ankle and no memory of how it happened. Other times, it’s bruises, on my arms, my thighs, a fading proof of something I can’t explain.

Sometimes I just…blank out. The world skips, and when it comes back, I’m somewhere else, standing, staring, pretending I know how I got there. It lasts only minutes, not hours. Not like that night at the cabin. That was different. That was…something else.

I tell myself I’m fine. I tell myself it’s stress. That it’s just a symptom, not a sign. But there’s a difference between lying and surviving, and I think I’m doing both.

The music shifted tracks. The beat was faster, but my pulse didn’t catch up.

People moved next to me, smiling, laughing loudly and normally, and I envied them for it. The ease of being unfractured.

Meanwhile, I was scared…every day. God, I was terrified of the gaps, of the silence between them, of what might be waiting inside those missing hours.

And then there’s Nathan.

Every time I think I’ve shaken him out of my head, something small pulls him back, the echo of his voice in my head, the shadow of his touch on my skin, the way my body still remembers him long after my mind pretends to forget.

I don’t know what he did that day. I don’t know what I did. But whatever happened…it’s carved itself under my skin.

After that rainy night outside his house, I never saw him again, never called him, never tried to contact him in any way. A part of me wanted to, the part still drowning in that pool, gasping for what he made me feel. There were nights I almost reached for my phone, my thumb hovering over his name, but I stopped myself.

Because I’d made a promise once, to never run after a man again, no matter the reason.

So, I didn’t.

I pushed the volume up, once, twice, then again.
The song screamed through my ears until it was all I could hear, drowning out every thought that dared to breathe his name.

I sped up, my feet slapping against the pavement, faster and faster, until it stopped feeling like running and started feeling like escape. My pulse raced to catch up with the tempo, every beat a desperate echo of the bass. The wind whipped against my face, tangling my breath, burning my lungs. The marina blurred at the edges, light, people, motion, all dissolving into color and static.

I didn’t even notice when the sidewalk disappeared beneath me, when the line between safety and street blurred the way everything else did. I was too far inside the music, too far inside my head.

But then, I felt it. It wasn’t a sound or a warning, just a pressure, a ripple in the air, the rush of something slicing past me…a vibration against my skin before my brain could catch up.

That’s when strong, big arms wrapped around my body and yanked me sideways, harshly. Harsh enough that my body collided with another, sank into it, heat meeting cold air, momentum snapping like a rubber band.

The world slammed back into focus.

A car sped by, close enough that I could see the blur of headlights and the ghost of my reflection in the glass. The horn blared, distant through the music, muffled by the beat still pulsing in my ears.

My chest heaved. The smell of smoke and asphalt filled my lungs. My heart was trying to punch its way out of my ribs. For a few seconds, all I could do was stare, at the road, at the fading taillights, at how close I was, how it could’ve crashed into me…a second later, and I would’ve been gone.

And the strangest part? A quiet thought pulsed through me…would that have been so bad?

Then, slowly, I turned.

The world was still spinning, blurry at the edges, but my gaze found the stranger who’d pulled me back into it. But no, he was no stranger. His breath was uneven, his arms still tight around me as if unsure whether to let go. His pulse hammering against my own, I could literally hear it. His bewildered gaze was still on the path the car took, as if imagining what would’ve happened if he’d been a second too late.

The music still thundered in my ears, too loud, too alive. My thoughts were static, crackling between panic and disbelief.

Nathan’s eyes flickered from the street and fell down on me. The bewilderment in his eyes flickered, it burned, then turned into something else. Anger. Relief tangled with rage. His jaw tightened, and before I could breathe, he yanked one of my AirPods out.

“Are you out of your goddamn mind?” His familiar voice hit like a spark.

I blinked, still trying to catch up.

“Why the fuck—” he stopped himself, exhaled hard through his nose, tried again, his voice rough but steadier. “Are you blind? Who the hell listens to music that loud and runs into the street?”

The wind whipped between us. His hands were still close, his body still radiating heat, and for a heartbeat too long, I didn’t move…didn’t want to.

When I stayed silent, the rage in his eyes flickered out, replaced by something quieter, heavier. His brows drew together as his gaze searched mine, as if trying to read behind them. His hand slid up my arm before I even registered the movement, his palm coming to rest against my cheek. “Aylin?” he murmured.

The sound of my name from his mouth hit harder than it should’ve.

“Hmm?” My voice came out thin, my throat too dry, maybe from the near-death experience or from the way he suddenly showed up in my life again, nearly giving me whiplash.

And God, I hated that I missed hearing my name in his voice. Hated it. Missed it anyway.

I blinked hard, forcing myself back into reality. I stepped away from him, too fast. “Uh—” I looked around, at the street, the joggers still moving past, the world somehow still turning. “How did—what…are you doing here?”

His jaw moved, and he pushed his hands into his sweatshirt’s pockets, stepping back from me. My eyes narrowed at him when he refused to answer, “Are you following me?”

He scoffed, “Don’t flatter yourself, Aylin,” he said, then looked ahead. “I was just…having a walk.”

“Right,” I said, my eyebrow lifting. “In the same place I’ve been coming to every single evening for the past month?” I pointed out the absurdity, “What a coincidence.”

His eyes snapped back to mine, unimpressed. “You don’t own the place, do you?”

My jaw tightened. Despite everything, despite him saving me, despite the chaos still ringing in my chest, I am still mad at him for leaving me alone in that cabin, for never explaining why, and for every hurtful word he told me on that rainy night.

I leaned closer, plucked my AirPod straight from his pocket, my fingers unintentionally brushing his, “Well, thank you,” I muttered, shoving it back into my ear. “Have a nice walk, Nathan.”

With that, I turned around and started jogging again, pretending the moment hadn’t happened, pretending he wasn’t there, but of course, the universe has a sick sense of humor.

Because neither the music blasting in my ears nor the sharp wind biting my face could drown him out. One, because Nathan was like a parasite that refused to die, and two, because he decided to join me.

Out of all the space in the world, he matched my pace, shoulder to shoulder, like this was a damn reunion run.

I groaned, hit pause on the music, and yanked my AirPods out. There was no point anymore. I turned to him, glaring, “Seriously?”

He raised an eyebrow, that infuriating look in his beautiful eyes. “You’re apparently suicidal,” he said dryly, referring to the near-accident. “Someone should keep an eye on you. Consider it…community service.”

I blinked, unimpressed. “You’re hilarious,” I muttered, my voice dripping with mock gratitude. I huffed out and walked toward the metal railing. I leaned against it, my eyes on the water ahead, trying to ignore how close his presence felt.

“I know,” he murmured, moving beside me. He leaned against the rail too, his eyes on the horizon, completely unbothered.

He’s just so insufferable, can’t say I missed that.

He went quiet after that, and so did I, but the silence wasn’t still. It pressed against my chest, loud with everything I was trying not to feel. My nerves were a live wire, twisting my stomach into knots that refused to loosen. I felt…off-balance, out of rhythm, like my body hadn’t gotten the memo that it was supposed to stop reacting to him.

I pressed my eyes shut and tried to breathe, deep and slow, filling my lungs with the cool salt air until the tremor eased. It didn’t.

When I opened my eyes again, I made the mistake of turning right.

Nathan stood beside me, his attention lost somewhere beyond the sea. The wind caught his hair, that soft, careless mess, and pushed a strand across his forehead. His jaw was sharp, outlined by the faintest shadow of stubble, and his lashes…God, those lashes, longer than they had any right to be, lifting and lowering with unhurried precision every time he blinked.

The streetlights hit his face at the perfect angle, gold spilling over him. His hands were buried in the pockets of his hoodie, the fabric stretching slightly across his shoulders as he leaned against the railing, completely unaware of the chaos he caused just by existing there.

God, he doesn’t have to look that good, does he?

He turned his head when I stared for too long, and our eyes caught, like magnets that still remembered what it felt like to pull.

My lips twitched, a ghost of a smile I didn’t mean to let slip. For someone who told me to stay away, he was doing a terrible job of it. “How’ve you been?” I asked, my voice softer than it should’ve been.

His eyes flickered from my eyes, down to my mouth, then back to my eyes, “Good.”

I arched an eyebrow. “You’re not going to ask how I’m doing?”

He shook his head, “I don’t care.”

My eyes narrowed. “So you’re still mad,” I said, “about something you’re still refusing to tell me.”

He just shrugged, a gesture that told me he’d already built his wall and wasn’t planning to climb down.

“Right,” I muttered, nodding once, more to myself than him. I pushed off the railing and straightened. “Have a nice evening, Nathan,” I said and walked away.

This time, he didn’t follow me.

I got into my car, and my chest felt much heavier than before as I drove off.

⊹˚₊‧─────────────‧₊˚⊹

One day later…

This had somehow become my ritual…five days a week, after work, instead of locking myself in my apartment with my thoughts, I’d grab a matcha latte and head to the marina. Jog a little, think a lot, pretend I was fine.

Today, though, I came with a different purpose.

But, much to my luck, the coffee shop nearby was closed for construction. I groaned in annoyance before I bent down and fixed my shoes, ready to warm up before I start my jog, matcha-less this time around.

But the moment I climbed back to my feet, a plastic cup was pushed at me, “Jesus—” I muttered, startled as I stumbled back.

My eyes followed the cup upward, the beautiful green swirl of matcha, the steady hand holding it, and then the face I didn’t need to see twice to recognize, and my purpose was fulfilled.

Nathan was here, handing me one latte, with a similar one in his other hand.

I blinked at him, at his expressionless face, and his hard eyes that contradicted his…sweet gesture. My lips twitched, trying to hide the smile clawing its way up. “Uh…thanks, I guess?” I muttered, taking the cup before he changed his mind.

“How did you…” I gave up on asking midway and shook my head with a sigh, as if he was going to answer me. I stabbed the straw in and took a sip, pretending not to care, pretending the warmth in my chest had anything to do with the drink itself.

He did the same, brought it to his mouth and took his first sip, but his expression twisted into a grimace and he pushed the cup away, glaring down at it, “What the fuck is this?” He grumbled.

I smiled before I could stop myself, the corners of my mouth betraying me, and I took another sip. His glare flickered from the cup to me, and he grimaced again, nearly gagging at the taste in his mouth, “Jesus Christ, this is horrible,” He grumbled, watching me with wary eyes as I savored it, “Why do you like it?”

“It’s delicious,” I hummed, taking another sip.

He stared at me like I was insane, “God, you have a horrible taste, don’t you?” He glared at the full cup in his hand and didn’t hesitate before throwing it in the bin, “In drinks and men, apparently,” He added under his breath.

“What was that?” I asked, my eyebrow arching.

He shot me a glance, “Nothing,” He said, “Drink your grass and let’s walk.”

“And who exactly appointed you as my walking buddy?”

He slipped his hands into his pocket, looking maddeningly casual. “Like I said yesterday, community service.”

I decided to ignore his smug, overpaid-in-confidence ass and started walking, sipping, and savoring my drink. He stayed quiet for most of it, which was weird. Nathan silent usually meant he was thinking of new ways to ruin my life.

Before I could wonder why he was even here, a voice cut through the air.

“Uh, excuse me?” A soft, girlish voice, sweet and polite, had me turn around,  mid-sip, but her eyes weren’t on me; they were on Nathan. “Is this yours?” She added, extending forward what seemed to be a set of keys.

His brows pulled together as he glanced down at them. “No.”

“Oh.” Her cheeks turned a soft pink. “It was on the ground over there. I thought it might’ve fallen from you.”

He just shook his head, but instead of turning around and going back to wherever she belonged, she kept on talking, “Uh, do you come here often?” She asked, and my eyebrow raised, can’t she see me, right here, next to him? “I feel like I’ve seen you before.”

Her eyes were too bright, her smile too shy, and her tone full of manufactured innocence.

Nathan picked up on her tone, just like I did. His eyes flickered to me briefly, and he caught my annoyed expression, and I could see the moment his brain said, Oh, this’ll be fun.

His lips twitched. “Yeah,” he said, turning to the girl, voice dropping a note lower. “I do.”

“Oh, really?” Her smile widened, tucking a strand of dirty blonde hair behind her ear. “Well, I’m here with my friends, uhm, we’re grabbing drinks at that bar after our run. You should join us if you’re free.”

What the—

I wanted to wave, maybe yell Hi, I am right fucking here! but Nathan’s head turned toward me. He caught the look on my face, and his smile stretched wider, more wicked. The bastard.

He turned back to her with that lazy charm of his. “A drink sounds nice,” he said, his tone so smooth, “I’d hate to miss out,” he said, being all flirtatious, this son of a bitch…

Her smile grew. She extended her hand, all flushed with excitement. “I’m Nancy, by the way.”

Nathan took it, his grip firm but deliberately slow, his touch all mock-gentle and infuriatingly smooth. “Nathan,” he said, voice low and warm enough to start a fire. Then, with a smile that could melt IQ points, he added, “It’s nice to meet you, Nancy.”

I watched, with my jaw tight, as his thumb deliberately brushed over her hand.

Nancy practically short-circuited, giggling like she’d been blessed. When she finally pulled her hand back, he had the audacity to wink at her.

By the time she turned and walked away, he was already smirking.

He turned to me, perfectly calm, perfectly annoying. “If I knew walking would get me a date,” he said, “I would’ve started doing this ages ago.”

I stared at him, unimpressed.

“Maybe I should embrace this healthy lifestyle,” he added, leaning in and taking a sip from my straw.

He instantly grimaced, pulling back with a wince. “God, that’s still terrible.”

I shoved my cup away from him.

His eyebrow arched, eyes flicking to mine with that infuriating spark. “What’s wrong, Aylin?”

I rolled my eyes. “That was literally the lamest pickup line in the history of the universe,” I muttered, then pitched my voice into an exaggerated imitation. “‘Are these your keys?’” I said, batting my lashes like her for extra effect.

Nathan chuckled and he shook his head, “I think it was quite alright,” He said, “Maybe you’re just bitter because you wouldn’t be able to pull that off.”

Oh, hell no.

Now that…that was the match that lit my fire.

“Are you sure?” I asked, giving him a last chance to back out. He shrugged in return, all smug and confident.

“Okay,” I mumbled, moving to the nearest bin and discarding my half-filled cup.

Nathan eyed me, his eyebrows pulled closer as I yanked the hair tie from my ponytail and let my hair spill loose, my fingers threading through the soft mess until it fell just so. Then, deliberately, I slid the zipper of my jacket down, far enough to show a curve of cleavage but not so far that it screamed for attention. Just enough to be a question.

His eyes widened. “What the hell are you doing?” he demanded, reaching for the zipper with an instinct that pissed me off and thrilled me in the same breath. He tried to pull it up.

I stepped back and pushed it down again, smiling. “Testing whether I can pull it off or not,” I said, my voice low and confident. He’d poked the hornet’s nest; now watch him react.

I edged closer to him, “You see, Nathan, the thing is,” My voice dipped lower, “Maybe I shouldn’t be exactly proud of this, but, if I want a guy,” I brought my hand and gently brushed his shirt, near the collarbone and I looked him in the eyes, “I get the guy,” I added with a confidence I actually had.

I moved my hand slowly, my fingers gently brushing up the side of his neck, his jaw, “After all,” my eyes stayed on his, my voice all kind of soft and sultry, “Even when Chase was still fully in love with Lilly, I was able to get him,” I added, tipteoing and edging closer so that I breathed his air, and I let the threat be a promise. “It’s this…power of mine,” I said, licking my lips, and I watched his eyes dip lower, his breathing getting heavier.

His pupils dilated, “I know what you and your…species want,” I added, my tone deliberately wicked. My fingers brushed near his mouth, “I know what makes you tick,” I moved my finger, brushing his lower lip, and I heard the way he sucked in a deep breath, “And I know how to use that to my advantage.”

Then, with perfect control, I pulled away, and I swear he almost staggered like the contact had been an anchor. He blinked. I smiled, insolent and pleased.

I let out a low, innocent breath and looked around me, “Hmm,” I mumbled, “Now, that guy,” I pointed at one of the men jogging, “Dirty blonde hair, blue eyes, well, will you look at that, he looks just like my type.” Was I playing with fire? Absolutely. Was I deliberately poking the part of Nathan I knew was dangerous? Of course.

“So, let’s see if I can pull it off with him or not.”

I gave him a wink and saw the flip in his face, the civilized predator gone feral, inhuman as I whirled around and headed for my target.

Well, I knew he was about to make a scene, but he’d be wise never to trigger me again.

⊹˚₊‧────────────────‧₊˚⊹

Author’s Note:

Hey, I hope you liked the chapter!
What do you think of it?
A lot of things happened 😉

And of course, just like you guessed, Nathan was the one to come to Aylin first xD he just can’t stay away 😉

Anyways, see ya soon 🩶