Chapter 30

I feel like I should drop another trigger warning here, this chapter is toxic in many ways, and I’d like to remind you, this is fiction. We enjoy it here.
But in real life, you ever meet a Nathan, then please, run away!

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“I won’t chase justice.
I won’t beg gods.
I won’t mourn properly.
I will become the ending
everything else was hoping to survive.“

Nathan’s POV

I’ve been trying very hard to be human lately.

To play along, to soften my sharp edges, to do the gentle, nice, normal thing my princess pretends to believe in so fiercely.

Well, this…had just made it very difficult.

The paper was trapped between my fingers, innocent in shape, obscene in intent.

I knew this, all too well. This calculated choice to not kill, not touch, not rush, just…slowly corrupt.

You never should’ve felt safe again.

My jaw locked.

Some people are meant to stay afraid forever.

My breathing evened out, controlled in the way storms are controlled right before they tear cities apart.

This wasn’t a threat. No, this was a method.

This was a psychological erosion, a fear drip-fed like poison. The type that didn’t break bones, but invaded sleep, breath, and memory.

I knew this game, because I’ve played it before.

Not that long ago, I used notes just like these to dismantle a man from the inside, slipped them where he’d least expect, and let paranoia do the dirty work for me. This was familiar, watching someone unravel without ever touching them.

But now…

Now someone was doing it to her.

My vision went red at the edges.

My princess, my soft, resilient, beautiful girl…she was being tortured slowly by a coward hiding behind ink and paper.

So this was that shit people liked to call karma, huh? I could practically hear the universe laughing.

Except karma didn’t get to touch what was mine.

I reread it, slower this time, forcing myself to catch clues instead of tearing it apart.

You never should’ve felt safe again.

Good. Then neither would they.

I see the way you relax into his arms.

My hand curled tighter until the paper creased.

She should relax in my arms. She should forget danger entirely when she’s with me. That part was never the problem. The problem was that someone had been watching closely enough to notice.

I tilted my head slightly, studying the final mark like it might give me all the answers I needed.

—R

One letter, one filthy, taunting breadcrumb.

I dragged my thumb over it.

R.

A name? Nickname? Initial?

R…R…R—

Something clicked in my head.

“Riley…” Aylin’s distant voice surfaced in my head, from that one time she’d blanked out in my arms and rambled softly, lost somewhere I couldn’t reach.

I’d dismissed it back then, I brushed it off as nonsense born from a fractured place in her head I didn’t trust, from the world her trauma had built to protect her.

But trauma doesn’t invent names.

It buries them.

My thoughts splintered violently.

Her grandfather and her mother were protecting someone for sure, most probably this fucking Riley, and I was going to find out why.

I was going to drag the truth out of them, not gently, not cleanly, not humanly by any means necessary. I would peel it out of bone and memory if I had to, because no one gets to carve fear into her life and keep breathing.

No one.

“Nathan?”

Aylin’s voice echoed from her room, yanking me out of my splintering thoughts.

“Your hoodie’s still here from last time,” she added, “I’ll get it for you. You should change out of your wet clothes…”

I folded the paper with practiced calm and slid it back into the envelope, placing it exactly where it had been, untouched and waiting for her. Then I stepped away, testing something.

A few seconds later, her footsteps padded closer, and she reappeared at my side, wearing a red and white pajama, her soft hair loose around her face, my hoodie bunched in her hands.

She edged closer and pushed it into my chest, completely unaware of the violence pacing just beneath my skin.

“Change into this, or you’ll get sick again,” she ordered, her eyebrow raising in warning.

For a second, I didn’t move, couldn’t…and just looked at her.

Her brows pulled together, her lips parting slightly, “Something’s wrong?” she asked.

I shook my head, lied beautifully.

I took the hoodie from her, my fingers brushing hers, watching her eyes search my face like she might find the truth there if she stared hard enough. She didn’t, she never did, not when I didn’t want her to.

I shrugged off my jacket slowly and set it aside, my gaze never leaving her. Testing her, waiting to see if she’d offer the secret I already knew she was hiding.

I nodded casually toward the counter. “Come on,” I said lightly, “check the important mail that you dragged me here for.”

She sighed, rolled her eyes, and turned away from me.

She crossed the room to the counter, flipping through the envelopes with a bored little huff. I watched her the way predators watched their prey, cataloguing every breath and every blink.

When she reached the blank white envelope, my focus narrowed. I watched as she opened it and pulled the paper out.

I watched her eyes flicker over the lines, saw the exact moment recognition hit. The tightening of her fingers. The subtle tick in her jaw, she thought, I didn’t notice. Her breath stilled for half a second too long.

Then…nothing.

She slid the paper back into the envelope without looking at me, opened a drawer, pushed it inside like it meant nothing.

I felt something snap.

She was hiding it…from me.

The restraint I’d fought so hard to maintain cracked down the middle, the rage slamming against my ribs so hard it nearly broke through.

I moved before I decided to and stepped into her space, close enough to steal the air from her lungs. She startled at my sudden presence, at the way I crowded her, her body reacting before her mind could keep up. Her eyes flicked up to mine, widening just a fraction as my hand shot for the drawer.

She caught my wrist.

“What—what do you want?” she asked, her fingers tightening around my skin, her grip small but desperate as her eyes searched my face, wide and confused, already afraid of the answer.

“Show me what you hid in there,” I said, my voice low, stripped of warmth, and barely holding it together.

Her throat bobbed. “Why?” she asked, trying to sound innocent, trying to stall. “What do you want? They’re just bank statements and bills, wha—”

“Aylin.”

The way I harshly said her name had her slightly flinching, her eyelids fluttering shut for half a second like her body already knew she’d miscalculated.

“I am not fucking messing around,” I continued, “Show me the damn envelope.”

She shifted, pushing herself between me and the drawer like she could block me with her body, like that would stop anything. “Nathan, why are you being like this now—”

My hand slammed down on the counter beside her, the sound sharp enough to swallow her deflective words, “Why do you think?” I snapped loudly, glaring down at her, my jaw locked, my pulse roaring in my ears.

Her breath hitched, then came faster, then shallower. Her hands braced against the edge like she needed something solid to stay upright. Her eyes flicked to my hand on the counter, then back to my face, wide and uncertain, searching for the human and finding none.

“What is it?” I demanded, leaning in, my voice dropping further. “Who sent it, Aylin?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said quickly, too quickly, shaking her head. “Nathan, please, you’re—”

“Lying,” I cut in.

“You’re fucking lying to me,” I snarled, my fingers digging into the counter hard enough to feel the burn, or else I’d dig them into her skin instead.

Her lips parted, then closed again. Her fingers curled tighter, her knuckles whitening. I watched her body language with a focus so intense it bordered on madness.

My face was too close, just inches from hers. Her eyes darted between mine, the green dulling, breaking, like leaves falling from a dying tree. I saw the fear there, and I didn’t know if it was me she was afraid of…or if it was the ink on the paper.

“Talk,” I said, commanding, as I eased back just enough to let her breathe. To let her think. “Explain to me why you’d rather shove it in a drawer than show it to me.”

She swallowed hard, shaking her head again. “I didn’t want to—I just—”

“Didn’t want what?” I pressed, “To worry me?” I added in mockery, then leaned in again, “Or to protect whoever the fuck wrote it?”

Her eyes snapped up at that. I saw the crack. The split second where her composure faltered, where something ugly and defensive surfaced behind her eyes, something that wanted to fight me back.

“Move back,” she muttered, her voice hardening, “This isn’t the way to talk about it.”

I didn’t move.

I kept my hand planted on the counter, kept her trapped in between my body and the hard surface behind her.

“Don’t stall,” I said flatly. “Answer me, who sent it?”

“I don’t know,” she shot back, anger finally licking at the fear in her eyes.

I tilted my head, watching her carefully.

“Is this the only one?”

“Yes,” She asnwered rather quickly.

I nodded slowly.

“Hmm, lying to me again, I see,” I murmured, almost too calm, “I know it’s not the first note, nor is it the only one.” My gaze locked onto hers, unblinking. “You’ve developed this little talent for lying to me so easily…makes me wonder how long you’ve been practicing.”

Her breathing stuttered.

“Maybe,” I continued, pushing her harder, “you really do know who sent it.”

I let the silence stretch, let it press down on her chest.

“So,” I said softly, dangerously, “are you going to answer me with words—” My eyes flicked briefly to the drawer, “—or am I going to have to extract them from you?”

Her jaw clenched, and she brought her hand up to my chest, trying to shove me back, trying to reclaim space that no longer existed. “Nathan, stop this, and move back,” she snapped, her eyes blazing, as if she had any right to be angry at me.

My hand closed around her wrist instantly, “You know me, and you know I don’t stop until I get what I want,” I said, “So, answer me before I fucking lose it, what do you know? Who’s been sending these? When did it start? Give me everything you know.”

Her pulse jumped beneath my fingers.

I was relentless, especially when it came to her, but my wicked princess was stubborn as hell too, ready to fucking fight me on everything.

“No,” she bit out. “No, and no.” She glared at me, fighting my grip, trying to wrench her wrist free.

When she failed, she used the movement to slam her palm against my chest instead. “Let me go, I’m not indulging you in this. You don’t get to order me around,” she snapped. “If I don’t want to talk about it, then you need to respect that.”

I laughed, “Respect that?” My eyebrow raised, “God, you’re so adorable, princess, do you really not know who you’re with, or is denial your coping mechanism?”

That did it, my mockery triggered her some more.

She fought harder, yanking at my grip with a frustrated groan when she couldn’t break free. Fire sparked in her eyes now, “Do whatever you want,” she shot out. “I’m not telling you a damn thing, not when you’re acting so damn unreasonable.”

My lips twitched, “Oh, I’ll show you unreasonable, right now,” I muttered as I finally let go of her and stepped back.

The distance did more damage than my closeness ever had. She tensed instantly, her gaze tracking me with wary precision, trying to predict what I’d do next, and failing.

I reached into my pocket slowly, dragging the moment out, until my fingers closed around the familiar weight. I didn’t rush it. I wanted her to watch, give her imagination room to spiral as I pulled my knife out.

Her eyes widened.

She backed up instinctively until the counter dug into her spine, like it might protect her from what she thought was coming.

My eyebrow raised at this silly girl of mine, “You know I’d never hurt you,” I stated the fucking obvious. God, this crazy girl.

“At least not this way,” I added as I twirled the knife loosely in my hand, planning to fuck her senseless after this, hurt her the way she loved, until she learned never to lie to me again.

“What…what are you doing?” she whispered, her eyes glued to the blade, swallowing hard as she looked back up at me.

“Giving you one last opportunity to stop making this worse,” I said evenly. “Go on.”

Her nostrils flared, still fucking stubborn as hell, a furious little thing, like she really thought she could outlast me.

I watched her with open fascination. God help her.

“No,” she grated out, like she didn’t believe me at all. She crossed her arms over her chest, her chin lifting in defiance. “Do whatever you want, I am not bending to your will.”

“Oh, the way you’ll eat those words when I fuck you tonight,” I grumbled, the urge to slam her against a wall and teach her not to use that damned tone with me growing higher, but I shelved it. I had more important things to focus on at the moment.

I dragged my thumb slowly along the edge of the blade, “Let’s start simple,” I said casually as I looked down and tugged my sleeves up just enough to expose the skin of my left arm.

“I’m being unreasonably patient with you today, you should be so thankful,” I added, and didn’t wait for her response as the blade kissed my skin and slid down my forearm in one quick motion, splitting it open, deep, but not deep enough. I knew my limits.

“Nathan!” Aylin’s voice cracked as she rushed toward me, her panic flaring, not expecting me to make good on my promises, “What are—what the…”

I lifted my knife-wielding hand, stopping her from getting closer.

She froze, her eyes wide and wild.

Blood ran down the knife, slicked the grip, and pooled into my palm. My arm burned as the skin split wider, crimson rushing to the surface.

“Easy,” I murmured. “This is just foreplay, princess, if you don’t talk, it’ll get worse.”

“You’re insane!” she snapped, her voice cracking hard around the edges, “What the hell is wrong with you?!”

Good. I’d finally pushed her there, right to the edge I’m standing on.

“Tell me who’s after you.”

Her chest heaved, panting, her terrified eyes tracing the blood dripping down my forearm before she met my gaze, terror tangled with rage, pleading with me to stop even as she refused to give me what I wanted.

“Tell me who’s after you, Aylin,” I stressed, one last time.

She shook her head.

I smiled, “Alright.”

I inhaled a deep breath, “Well, this is gonna hurt,” I muttered to myself as I positioned it right and drove the knife into my abdomen.

She screamed something, but I didn’t flinch, my eyes never leaving her bewildered ones. “Five seconds,” I said, “If you don’t talk…I go deeper.”

She ran to my side, the breath tearing out of her chest as tears rapidly swarmed her eyes, “Stop—stop this,” she gasped, her voice cracking, her panic spilling everywhere.

“Your five seconds are over, princess,” I said lightly, glancing at the knife like I was checking the time. I shifted it just enough…enough to make her imagination scream.

That’s when she broke.

Both her hands flew up, curling around my wrist, her fingers trembling so hard I could feel it through my skin. “Okay, okay,” she cried out, her words tumbling over each other. “I’ll tell you whatever you want. Please, just stop, stop,” She added, breathless, “I swear I don’t know who is sending them, but I’ll tell you what I know, just stop this!”

Tears spilled down her cheeks, her face crumpling, the fear etching lines deep into her forehead as her teary gaze focused where the knife met my skin. “Nathan, please,” she whispered, her lower lip trembling.

I pulled the knife out, groaning lowly. Fuck, that was uncomfortable as hell…god, the things I put myself through for this girl.

“Too much for not bending to my wills,” I mumbled as I leaned closer, my nose brushing her skin before my lips softly pecked her cheek, tasting the saltiness of her tears.

Her hand drifted to my abdomen instinctively, almost protectively, gently pressing there like she could will the damage undone. A fractured breath tore out of her when she felt the warmth of my blood beneath her palm.

“Do…do something,” she whispered, her eyes glassy, frantic as they flicked up to my face, then to my arm. “Please. Just—do something to stop the bleeding.”

For a second, I almost hated myself.

I lifted my hand to her cheek, careful despite the mess of it, accidentally smearing red against her skin, “Okay,” I murmured, much softer now, all my violence folding inward. “First thing, stop crying.”

I wiped my clean thumb beneath her eye, “I can’t think straight when you do that.”

She sniffled hard, her breath uneven still, “Nathan,” she whispered, her hand trembling over my abdomen. I brought my other hand there and covered hers, the pain in my arm multiplying, “Now, tell me what you know,” I said.

“Nathan, but you’re bleeding,” She mumbled, her voice strained, trying to make that a priority.

I nodded, “So, don’t let me bleed more, come on,” I said, my hand slid from her cheek to the side of her neck, cupping it, my thumb softly brushing her pulse point, counting her heartbeats.

Some of the blood on my hand smeared onto her pale skin, tainting redness against white, staining over the side of her cheek, and now near her neck. Wrong…so fucking wrong. Fuck, I shouldn’t even entertain the idea, and this sight shouldn’t turn me the fuck on.

I shoved the thought down hard, crushed it where it surfaced. Suppress, repress, rein it the fuck in and lock it away.

I pulled my hand back like I had been burned.

“When did it start?” I asked, kicking myself in.

“Around a year ago.”

My jaw ticked, “How often?”

Her gaze stayed locked on my wound, on the place she was guarding, her voice small as she blinked away what was left of her tears. “There isn’t a pattern…sometimes every month, other times every week.”

I tightened my hold over her hand, “You don’t know who it is, I get that, but…” I said, leaving it to her to fill in the blanks.

“But I know it’s whoever tried to hurt me in that pool,” she whispered. “The notes always circle back to that. Always.”

Fucking hell. I’ll find this fucker, and I will slaughter him alive.

“Did you keep them?” I asked.

“Some,” she said softly. “Some I threw away.”

“You’ll show me the ones you kept.”

She nodded immediately, no fight left in her. Then she lifted her head, finally looking at me again.

“Whoever it is doesn’t want to hurt me physically,” she said, thinking out loud now. “If they did, they would’ve done it already. They just want to keep me…unsettled, afraid. I stopped letting it control me a long time ago. I had to, or I would’ve crumbled every time a new note arrived.”

I brushed my thumb over the back of her hand. The burn of my wounds felt so damn insignificant compared to what that fucker had put her through this past year, taunting her from afar.

“No one gets to do that to you,” I whispered, “Ever.”

Her throat bobbed, sniffling again, looking at me ever so brokenly, and fuck.

I knew exactly who’d put that look there.

Me.

I’ll have to apologize for this, won’t I? She really had a talent for turning me into something almost decent against my will. So fucking revolting.

“Is there anyone you suspect?”

She shook her head, “No, I really…really don’t.”

I believed her.

“Who’s Riley?” I couldn’t help but ask.

She blinked, her brows pulling together, genuine confusion clouding her still-glassy eyes. “Who’s Riley?”

I tilted my head, watched her closely, studied her some more. I felt her pulse beneath my fingers…it was steady and honest. Her eyes, always so expressive when she lied, held nothing but worry and pain now.

I exhaled.

“No one,” I murmured. “Forget it.”

I wasn’t going to push her off a cliff she was barely standing on.

“Does anyone else know about these notes?” I asked.

She shook her head, “No.”

My brows drew together. “Not even your grandfather?”

She shook her head again. “I didn’t want him to worry,” she murmured. “At first, I was really scared. I kept locking doors, watching my steps. Every shadow around me felt…threatening.” Her voice thinned. “I thought whoever it was would come for me.”

She paused, swallowing.

“But time passed,” she went on quietly. “Nothing happened, no one came, so I stopped waiting for it. I stopped expecting anyone to show up.”

Her gaze dropped to the floor. “I didn’t tell anyone,” she said. “And I didn’t want to tell you, not yet, at least.”

Her throat bobbed, “I wanted to deal with…whatever this defective thing in me is first,” she whispered. “I thought if I could fix that, if I could be stronger, then I could face this too.”

My jaw ticked, and the urge to tear everything apart rose again, pressing against my ribs like it wanted out.

“But if it’s the same person who tried to drown you,” I said, “then your parents or your grandfather know who it is.”

She lifted one shoulder in a weak shrug. “But they both say…that no one tried to drown me.”

The way she said it was empty, so drained, like she’d repeated it so many times it had worn all the belief out of it, like she was borrowing someone else’s version of the truth just to survive.

“They said something else happened,” she continued. “Grandpa tried to explain it, more than once, but every time he did, I just…” She made a vague gesture near her temple. “Deleted it, over and over again.”

She looked so energyless, so unsteady, like all of this was finally asking for its due. I kept one hand over hers against my wound, not caring about it in the slightest. My free hand slid to her waist, steadying her, ready to catch her if she folded.

“What do you remember?” I asked.

She looked at me, her brows knitting together like the answer was buried too deep to reach. Then she closed her eyes. “I just…” Her voice slipped further away. “I see hands, two of them, around my neck.”

My chest went tight.

“I remember the water,” she whispered. “I remember it everywhere, I remember not being able to breathe…and then nothing.”

She opened her eyes again, glassy and lost.

For some fucked up reason, Natalie’s voice crawled back into my head, her previous words echoing loud, over and over again, only driving me more mad, her explanation about not trusting kids’ memories, about how they interpret things differently. I’d hated her for saying it then.

I hated her more now.

Because the thought slid in anyway.

Fuck…no, there was…no, no way.

The burn in my throat flared so suddenly it stole my breath. My vision darkened at the edges, black bleeding inward, like my body was trying to shut down before my mind finished the sentence. My knees weakened. I actually felt myself sway…I had to catch myself.

A theory, just a fucking theory, but it ripped straight through me.

I saw nothing but red, felt nothing but ruin. Something inside my chest tore open, savage, like an animal realizing too late it had failed to protect what was sacred. I wanted to fucking scream.

“What if…what if he wasn’t trying to drown you?” My voice didn’t sound like mine, fuck, something was happening in me, something I didn’t understand, like I might fucking weep if it turned out to be true, “What if it was…something else?”

Aylin’s eyebrows pulled closer, her eyes searching mine, trying to understand what I was implying. I couldn’t fucking say it out loud.

It took her a second, or two, then it clicked.

Her eyes widened, “Wha—no. No,” she said quickly, shaking her head, denial tumbling over itself. “I would’ve known. I would’ve…I would’ve known, right?” Her voice faltered, certainty draining out of it as the thought took shape in her own head. “It didn’t happen like that. It couldn’t have…right?”

“I fucking hope not, Aylin,” I grated, my chest heaving. My lungs burned, my body betraying me, my brand-new lung failing spectacularly at the one thing it was meant to do. “How old were you?”

“Around…eight,” she whispered. “Something like that.”

The word detonated.

Fucking hell.

If this were true, if it were even close to the truth, I wouldn’t be responsible for the person I’d become afterward. I could live with almost any version of that night.

But not this.

If someone had only tried to kill her, I’d kill them back.

If it was something else—

The damage I’d do wouldn’t be human.

I brought my hands up to her face, holding it steady despite the mess of me, bloodied or not, I didn’t fucking care. I needed her eyes on me, not on the ghosts clawing their way up her spine.

“Don’t think about it,” I said. Fuck, I should’ve kept my mouth shut. “These notes, I’ll take care of them, okay? I will find whoever is sending them and end it. I will take care of this, just trust me, okay,” I added, hoping to at least take this burden off her.

She squeezed her eyes shut and leaned into my hold on instinct, like her body knew before her mind did where safety was supposed to be…with me. I’d keep her safe, always.

When she opened them again, the fog receded, and her gaze immediately dropped to my wound.

“Can we…can we do something about that now?” she whispered, “Please. Let’s go to the hospital, or—”

I shook my head, “No need, I’ll take care of it, I know how,” I said.

I knew the depth, the angle, the exact point where pain stopped being dangerous and started being inconvenient. The knife hadn’t gone anywhere it shouldn’t have. Nothing vital touched, nothing catastrophic. I could easily stitch myself up.

Painful? Yes. Deadly? No. Nothing I couldn’t handle.

“I’ll grab my kit from the car,” I said, already shifting.

Aylin’s eyes widened immediately, her hand flying out to grab my arm. “No, stay here,” she insisted, “I’ll get it.”

My lips twitched, “I am fine, can’t you see?” I said.

Which was technically true. The burn was chewing through me, the blood loss making the room tilt just a fraction, but I’d had worse. Far worse.

This? This was kids’ play.

I pulled my jacket back on, covering the blood, and headed straight to the car, grabbed my kit, and was back up at her apartment within minutes.

By the time I stepped inside, she’d washed her face and hands, scrubbing away the blood I’d smeared on her skin earlier. I set the kit down and sat, taking off my jacket before pulling my shirt over my head. I tore a strip from it, wrapping it around my forearm to slow the bleeding before turning my attention to the other wound.

The room felt too quiet.

I could feel Aylin’s unblinking eyes on me, locked on the cut near my abdomen. She followed the slow creep of blood, the way it darkened my skin, the way it slid lower than it had any right to.

Her breath hitched.

“Hey,” I said quietly, without looking up. “I’m fine.”

I went back to work, fixing what I’d broken with steady hands. Across the room, she sat on the edge of the couch, watching me like she was afraid I might faint if she blinked.

When I finished up and started cleaning the blood from my skin, I saw her move in my peripheral vision, disappear somewhere, then return with a damp cloth clutched in her hands.

She edged closer to the carpet, her gaze dropping to the darkened patch where I’d bled earlier.

Before she could kneel, I stood up, too fast for her to react. I caught her wrist gently and pulled her back against me, “No,” I said, “Don’t.”

She looked up at me, startled. “I was just—”

“I know,” I cut in, “and you’re not cleaning up my messes.”

I eased her back, my palms settling briefly at her waist. “I’ll take care of it when I am done,” I added.

Because yeah, I might fuck things up spectacularly, leave blood and chaos in my wake, but I’d be damned before I let her clean up after me.

Some lines, even I don’t cross.

She didn’t answer, didn’t argue, but didn’t accept it either. She just stared at me for a long second, her eyes scanning my face like she was looking for cracks.

“Are you in pain?” She asked.

I shook my head, “I’ve swallowed enough painkillers to get me legally questionable.”

She frowned. “You’re sure?”

I nodded again.

“A hundred percent sure?” she pressed.

“Yeah, relax,” I muttered, “If I was going to die from bad decisions, I wouldn’t have made it this far.”

She nodded slowly. “Good,” she murmured, then sucked in a deep breath, “I can do this, then.”

I didn’t even have time to register what this was supposed to be before—

Her hand connected with my face, hard.

I froze.

What the actual fuck…

My eyes widened when it registered, taken aback for real, fucking hell, oh, she did not just—did she just slap me? I need a fucking second.

She glared at me, gone all the worry and tears from before, replaced by pure fury and…hurt. She raised her hand again, but this time I was fast to catch it, wrapping it over her wrist and stopping her, “You heartless creature,” I grumbled. “I am actively wounded, and you slapped me?”

Her jaw clenched. Her nostrils flared, so fucking adorably, “Yeah, you deserve it,” She shot out.

“What you did was not acceptable, not at all,” She shot out, trying to wrench her hand free. I didn’t let her. I absolutely did not trust her right now. My cheek was throbbing, honestly, more than the wounds I’d carved into myself.

“You emotionally blackmailed me, you crazy man,” she continued, her voice rising. “You hurt yourself to force answers out of me. Who does that? Who…”

I tilted my head. “In my defense—”

She yanked harder. “Do not defend yourself.”

She tried to slap me with her other hand.

I blocked that one, too.

“God,” I muttered. “You’re so hot when you are furious like this, I could just eat you up.”

That only infuriated her more, and she shoved herself away from me with a frustrated groan. “Get out of my house.”

My eyebrow lifted slowly, amused, “No.”

“Yes, get out,” She pointed at the door, ever so serious, “I don’t want you here.”

I ignored it completely and plopped onto the couch, reaching back for the cloth, resuming the very inconvenient task of cleaning blood off my skin.

“And when exactly,” I said mildly, “have I ever complied with what you want?”

She let out a frustrated sound that could only be described as a breakdown in progress. “Why are you like this!”

I shrugged, “Poor upbringing, probably, a bit of bad wiring in my head, a severe allergy to letting things go.” I looked up at her and smiled, “Also, my personal favorite, you.”

The look she gave me was so delicious. Pure murder. I honestly thought she might launch herself at me and claw my face off.

She didn’t, unfortunately.

Instead, she groaned like she was on the brink of collapse, tipped her head back toward the ceiling, and muttered something under her breath, probably bargaining with whichever god had cursed her with me.

“Should’ve just let you bleed out,” she grumbled in a low voice, then spun on her heel and stalked off.

I heard her bedroom door slam, then the lock click. Her message was loud and clear…she desperately needed distance away from me.

I leaned back and smiled to myself. “She’s crazy about me, I just know it,” I said to no one, entirely pleased.

Normally, I’d have barged right in, boundaries were more of a suggestion in my world, but I stayed put and let her cool off.

I’d put her through enough chaos for one night.

I went back to patching myself up, almost on autopilot. When I was done, I put on the hoodie she’d brought me, my shirt was a lost cause anyway. After that, I cleaned up the blood I’d spilled, making sure not a single trace of my mess remained behind.

Then I slumped into the couch.

My gaze drifted down the hallway, to the thin line of light bleeding out from beneath her bedroom door.

I huffed quietly…I hated the distance.

My phone buzzed beside me. I glanced down just in time to see Christian’s name light up the screen. I rolled my eyes and instantly declined. I didn’t have the patience for him right now.

Instead, I texted Adam, setting the next phase of terrorizing Aylin’s family in motion. She could get mad at me all she wants. I am finding out who this fucker is, and I am ending him, no matter who gets hurt along the way.

A little while later, I heard the soft click of a lock turning, followed by the faintest creak of a door opening.

My lips twitched.

I tossed my phone aside and craned my neck just in time to see her step hesitantly into the hallway. She’d changed her pajamas, probably because of the blood. She crossed her arms over herself as she approached, an adorable, angry little thing running on fumes.

“You’re still here,” she mumbled.

The rage from earlier was completely gone, and all that was left was exhaustion.

I nodded, my eyes never leaving her.

“I told you I didn’t want you here,” she added, but her words lacked conviction.

I just looked at her, at her glassy eyes, her soft, beautiful face. The way being this close to her made that nauseating warmth bloom in my chest again.

Annoying.

My lips curved slightly as I extended my arm, palm open. “Come here,” I murmured.

Her gaze dropped to my hand, and she hesitated, just for a second. Then her arms loosened around herself, and she slipped her hand into mine.

I curled my fingers around hers and tugged gently, guiding her closer to me.

She settled into the spot right beside me, and I leaned back into the cushion, my arm slipping around her back as I finally got comfortable. She scooted closer on instinct, fitting herself into my side. Her eyes drifted down to my bandaged wound, the zipper of my hoodie still open. She reached out, hesitant as her fingers fluttered softly around the edges.

“Are you in pain?” she asked again, her lips curling into a tiny, involuntary pout.

I nodded my head.

Her frown deepened, and she looked ready to do anything just to soothe me. “Where?”

“You’re mad at me, it’s very painful,” I clarified the reason behind my ache, and tapped two fingers against my chest, right over my heart, “Right here.”

The lines at her forehead tightened, and she shot me a knowing look, gently brushing her fingers over the bandage. “You’re crazy,” she murmured, a tired little sigh slipping out of her as her shoulders finally dropped.

“About you? Fuck yeah,” I said, my lips curling, “The craziest.”

She sighed but didn’t pull away. Her touch lingered, and somehow that alone did more repair than stitches ever could. Then she leaned in, tucking herself against me, resting her head on my shoulder like she needed the closeness now, right after pretending she wanted me to leave.

I kissed the top of her head, my eyes falling shut as I breathed in her soothing jasmine scent. For a half second, it felt like the world finally stopped shaking.

“You yelled at me,” She mumbled, like a little kid, her voice so low and soft, “I didn’t like it.”

My heart clenched so fucking tight. “I am sorry,” The apology slipped out of me automatically. She really was rewiring something in me, changing my factory settings, “I won’t ever do that again.”

Her hand drifted up from the bandage, across my chest, over my collarbone, until her fingers brushed my neck.

She lifted her head to look at me, her worn-out eyes meeting mine

“Are you trying to seduce me?” I asked lightly, winking. “Because it’s working.”

She ignored me entirely—very rude, by the way—took a deep breath, and said, “You need to promise me you won’t do something crazy like this again.”

I frowned. “You know I can’t promise that,” I said. “Crazy’s my middle name.”

She shook her head, resigned, but her fingers stayed right there, brushing the side of my neck, “Psycho,” she corrected gently. “That’s your middle name.”

I clicked my tongue. “Nah. That’s my last name.”

Her lips twitched, smiling. Ah, I just fucking love that smile, and I love that face, and I love those eyes, and I…fuck, what kind of infection was this? Because I’d caught it badly, and it’s spreading everywhere.

I cleared my throat. “Alright,” I said, needing to change the topic before I go on, feeling more nauseating stuff, “Now, how are you going to please me?”

Her eyebrow raised, “Please you?”

I nodded, “Yup, I am wounded as you can see,” I said, gesturing lazily at myself.  “I require some sympathy, thank-god-you-are-alive sex to reset my settings,” I added.

She crossed her arms. “You did this to yourself.”

“Minor details,” I waved off. “So, I’m thinking something along the lines of fucking this beautiful, bratty mouth of yours till it learns to never lie to me again,” I brushed my fingers over her lower lip, “Or bend you over that counter, take you from behind till you can’t walk again, what do you say?”

Her eyes widened slightly, “You can’t be serious…”

“So, both?” I nodded, “I am quite okay with that.”

“Nathan!” She whined in that sultry voice that gets me hard, “You’re hurt.”

“Yeah, but my dick is a hundred percent functional, at peak performance, really,” I said, so serious, “Give it a second, and it’ll be under your service…actually forget the second,” I smiled, “it’s all ready for you.”

She shook her head, “I really can’t with you,” she exhaled, ready to move away from me. Yeah, in her fucking dreams.

She got up to her feet, but I was just as fast and got up, too.

I grabbed her throat, my fingers wrapping over the smooth skin, pausing her movements. Her eyes widened, and my fingers traveled to the back of her neck, pulling her in. She gasped as she crashed into me, her plump lips parting, and all I wanted was to slip my cock past them and watch them wrap ever so lovingly around me.

My gaze focused on them, “I am not messing around, princess,” I muttered, my voice low, gone all the joking, “True, I reacted wrong, but you acted wrong, too.” I leaned in, my breath hitting her lips, “Lying to me? That comes with consequences,” I brushed them, softly at first, a tease, “and you’re going to pay for it.”

Her breath hitched, and I felt the shiver ripple through her as my fingers threaded into her hair and twisted, enough to arch her head back. “Now, be a good girl and get on your knees,” My eyes flicked up to hers, soaking in the way her pupils dilated.

But then, since she is my one and only match, my bratty princess, my other half, probably even my fucking soulmate, she played my favorite game.

“No,” She said, a challenge, a teasing defiance, a dare glimmering in her mesmerizing eyes. God, she fucking liked this, to defy me so I could push harder, get the upper hand, and force her down.

I chuckled, a low dark sound that tore out of my throat.

“I take it back,” I muttered, my fingers loosening around her hair, traveling down, curling the nape of her neck, feeling the way her pulse skittered beneath my thumb, “You’re so bad, a spoiled, reckless princess who likes to play with fire.”

My knuckles traced her collarbone, brushing the thin fabric of her top aside, “You’ll burn, princess. I’ve warned you plenty before.”

“Too late,” She whispered, “I already did,” she added, the sweetest flush of crimson spreading across her neck.

“Have you, really?” I murmured, my lips hovering just inches from hers, close enough to taste her shaky breath.

My free hand slid down her side, my fingers digging into the curve of her hip, pulling her flush against me so she could feel the hard length of me pressing into her. “Then let’s see how much hotter this fire can get before you beg for mercy.”

“I don’t see anything worth begging for, so, no, thanks,” she said, her eyes flashing with that fire that only fueled my madness.

Oh, she’ll be my death.

She tried to pull away from me after, but oh, I’d be damned before I ever let her go. My fingers moved from her hips and curled over her wrist as I forcefully dragged her toward the counter. She resisted, of course, tried to pull back. Futile little protests that only made it sweeter.

She asked for the monster, and well, I’ve always been so generous with granting her wishes.

She barely had the chance to breathe as I spun her roughly, slamming her hips against the edge, her palms slapping down to brace herself.

She tried to pull back, but my fingers curled over the back of her neck, keeping her right where I wanted her.

I leaned down, “You keep saying no,” I grumbled, “but your pulse betrays you, racing like a trapped bird in my grasp.” I pressed my body against her from behind, “You crave this cage, don’t you?” Her stuttured breath was enough answer, “My pretty little liar, aching to be broken open.”

“Natha—”

“Bend over,” I ordered, and she complied as my free hand fisted the waistband of her pajama pants, tugging them down alongside her panties, just enough to expose the swell of her ass—goddamn, I could feel it, she was soaked for me already.

“Spread your legs, princess,” I ordered, “Let me see that dripping pussy begging for my cock.”

She hesitated, her body tensing, but I didn’t wait.

My hand cracked down on her skin, stinging, the sound echoing around the house.

My name shattered on her tongue as a broken yelp tore out of her, arching her back involuntarily, and I did it again, harder, watching the skin bloom red under my palm as her breath broke louder.

“Defy me all you want,” I said, leaning over her, my lips brushing her ear as I yanked her pants lower, bunching them at her thighs.

My fingers delved between her legs, finding her slick folds, parting them to circle her swollen clit, “But this doesn’t lie. It’s weeping for me, look at it, clenching around nothing,” The sound that tore out of her was already ruined, a half-moan, half-whimper.

“You want me to force it, don’t you? To pin you down and fuck that bratty attitude right out of you until you’re sobbing my name.”

“Oh my god,” She breathed out in a ragged gasp, her hips bucking against my hand despite herself, that push-pull game we played twisting her resistance into fuel for my crackling fire.

I plunged two fingers inside her without introduction, so fucking deep I nearly groaned out loud at the warmth of her. I curled them to hit that sweet spot, “Feel that?” I rasped against her earlobe before I bit it, hard, and she whimpered. “But it’s not enough, is it, princess?”

She shook her head, her chest heaving, “I need to bury my cock in you, pound you until you can’t remember how to say no.” I thrusted harder, my thumb grinding her clit, her arousal drenching my hand, as she bit her lip to stifle the moans, but they spilled out anyway, so brokenly, every one a victory.

“Nathan…” She was trembling, my beautiful muse, the words I wanted to paint her with banged against my skull, begging for a release, “Yes, baby?”

She pressed her lips together, stopping herself from crying my name out loud again, but it rumbled from her as a suppressed hum nevertheless. Her eyes dropped shut, fighting her pleasure as I toyed with her as I pleased.

I loosened my grip over her neck, enough for her to glance over her shoulder. “You’re crazy,” She panted, those defiant eyes fucking unraveling me, “You can’t just—ah!” Another slap to her ass cut her off, her words dissolving into a muffled moan.

I leaned closer, “I can’t just what?” I asked, before I buried my mouth into her neck, tasting her delicious skin before my teeth dug in, marking my favorite spot, her heartbeat. I wanted it to be mine, just mine, to beat just for me, because I could swear my heart was surviving only for her.

She arched against me, pushing back as I fastened my movements, the obscene slap of my fingers, got overpowered by her heavy, strained breathing. She tipped her head back, her skin flushing crimson from cheeks to thighs. She was teetering on the edge, her walls tightening around me, so naturally, I stopped and withdrew my fingers.

Her eyes flew open, wide and furious, “Wha…Why?” She shot out, craning her neck to glare at me.

I smiled, all predatory, “You thought it’d be that easy?”

“Nathan!” She shot out, her sweet body still quivering.

My eyebrow raised, “You lied to me.” I wasn’t going to let it go, oh, I don’t let go easily, “You know exactly how to fix that.”

Her jaw locked, that stubborn spark igniting brighter, “Fuck you.”

I threw my head back, groaning, “God, I fucking love that bratty mouth,” I muttered.

I looked back at her, my hand snaking to her waist with possessive force, spinning her around before slamming her back against the counter.

Her pajama top hiked up in the chaos, teasing the soft undersides of her breasts, her nipples were hard, straining the fabric and begging for my torment. Fuck me, she was a vision of sin, one I’d never confess to, one I’d keep staining, layer by layer, until the page warped and the truth bled through.

I grabbed the hem, ripping it upward in one swift motion, baring her to me, her pale skin glowing, her breasts heaving with every breath.

“On your knees now, or I’ll drag you there myself,” I said, my chest heaving. I fucking needed her, craved her like a junkie chasing oblivion, her submission the only drug that could quiet the pain pulsing underneath my patched-up wound.

She shook her head in that half-hearted rebellion, her lips pressed tight, but her gaze betrayed her, dropping to the straining bulge in my pants, hunger slithering through the cracks of her wavering defiance.

“Aylin,” her name, the way my voice was barely holding it together had the air crackle between us, her defiance crumbling under the weight of my gaze, my word weaving the spell.

She brought her hands and unzipped my pants slowly, dragging it down, and my cock sprang free, thick and veined, the head already slick with pre-cum. Her throat worked visibly, her eyes locked on it, before her small hand wrapped around the base, squeezing just right, stroking once, torturously slow.

I fucking groaned because nothing came close to the pleasurable feel of her soft hands on my dick.

“Look at what you do to me, princess,” I rasped. “This obsession, this madness, all of me, it’s all yours.”

Her heavy-lidded eyes flickered up to my face, the emerald green darkening, and I saw it…that spark, the moment she glimpsed the fracture in my armor, the truth she hungered for. This was her ticking point.

My wicked princess wanted me to surrender to her, too, to tower over her and be ruined with her in the same breath. She wanted me to fall, to be fully, irrevocably hers.

For one moment, so fleeting, I imagined what forever would look like with her. For once, I felt that maybe…just maybe I could earn a forever, that I could dream of a future, I could build it, brick by broken brick, with her standing in the wreckage with me.

She sank slowly, inch by inch, her knees hitting the floor as her hands reached for me tentatively.

I backed away, her hands falling from me on reflex. She tipped her head up, her eyes widening slightly when she didn’t understand. She relaxed when she saw me fully get rid of my pants and unnecessary layers.

The distance I’d created between us felt too fucking tempting, so I stepped back, one more, then two.

Aylin tensed up again, her eyes widening, especially when she caught the smirk that tilted the corner of my lip.

“Hands on the floor,” I commanded.

Her cheeks blazed scarlet, “Nathan!” Her protest was so achingly cute.

I traced my thumb along my lip, arching a brow. “You lied to me, Aylin, and you need to make it up to me.”

A frustrated groan escaped her, “Stop with that, I only lied this one time,” She shot out, “God knows how many times you lied to me—”

“Princess, I’d drop to my knees for you in a heartbeat, no persuasion required,” I cut in, “I am less stubborn than you, apparently.”

“Now, be a good fucking girl, or else I’ll keep playing with you all night long, edging you, over and over, never let you come, till you lose your mind,” I threatened. “You know my limits are nonexistent. So obey.”

“Hands down,” I repeated, watching her ears flush crimson, “and crawl to me, princess.”

Her jaw clenched, that intoxicating spark of rebellion warring in her eyes, making the air thicken with the sweet agony of our dance, her push against my pull.

She held my stare for a suspended moment, her body quivering with the precipice of surrender. I took pleasure in that hazy hooded look in her eyes, the way she liked this so fucking much but won’t admit it.

Then—god help me—her palms pressed to the floor, her knees shifting, and she did exactly what I asked for. Fuck. The sight of her like that, my fierce baby on all fours, her thighs slick with her arousal, crawling toward me, ignited something primal and so fucking poetic in my chest.

She was my obsession incarnate—my masterpiece, the kind that ruined the maker…this is what it must’ve been like for Michelangelo to carve until stone breathed, for Beethoven to write while the world went quiet, for van Gogh to love color hard enough to bleed for it.

I drank her in, every little bit of her, my dick twitching harder with every inch closer. God. I nearly came undone at her sight alone.

She reached me at last, her innocent eyes flickering up to me, and my heart fucking shattered. I reached forward, my palm flattening over her cheek before it dove into her soft hair. My lips parted, and I nearly confessed something I didn’t fully comprehend yet.

Fuck no, I needed my control back. She was the one on her knees, but I was the one splintering apart for some reason.

Her hand rose tentatively, but I tangled my fingers in her hair, harder, yanking her forward with unyielding force. “Open wide, princess,” I growled, the command laced with the madness my messy feelings evoked, “and take what you’ve earned.”

Her mouth instantly enveloped me in wet heat, her tongue swirling around the head before sliding down. She was testing, teasing me still, her defiance lingering in her slowness. But I wasn’t here for mercy. With a savage thrust, I buried myself deeper, hitting the back of her throat. She whimpered, she gagged, a muffled symphony that only spurred me on.

“That’s it, Aylin, fuck…” I rasped, fucking her mouth with brutal precision. Tears welled in her eyes, spilling down her cheeks as she struggled to accommodate me fully, as I made a mess of her beautiful face. Exquisite.

I held her head steady, driving in harder, faster. I felt like I’d crumble if I stopped. Her hands clutched my thighs, her nails digging in, a final spark of resistance that made me groan, the pain blending with pleasure in devastating torment.

She moaned around my length, the vibration shooting straight to my core, pushing me toward the edge, but I held back, savoring the destruction, the way her submission fueled my obsession into something unbreakable.

After a count of heartbeats, I eased the pressure, allowing her to withdraw for air. I stroked her cheek and just couldn’t fucking bear it. I wanted her skin pressed against mine.

My hand curled around her arm and pulled her up against me, close enough to feel her pulse collide with mine. My palm framed her face, my fingers threading into her hair, and I didn’t care for anything as I crashed my lips against hers, tearing through every boundary.

She answered instantly, her arms sliding around my neck, melting into me with a quiet sound that cracked something open in my chest.

“I swear to fucking god I’d die without you,” I rasped into her lips.

She stilled. Then she pulled away just enough to look at me. Her hands cradled my face, and lines creasing her forehead, “Don’t say that,” she whispered, leaning to peck my lips. “No one is dying.”

“But in my story,” I mumbled, “Someone always dies.”

The universe wouldn’t be that cruel, would it?

It wouldn’t be stupid enough to try.

It wouldn’t take her from me like this, right?

It fucking better not.

Because if it does…

I’d turn everyone’s ending into a massacre.

⊹˚₊‧────────────‧₊˚⊹

Next morning…

I slept like a baby, after I had one of the best sex of my life, my top ten, scratch that, top five, if I am being honest; all of which were shared with my one and only princess.

Who am I kidding…every night with her is a top five, top three, well, top one, even.

Did my stitches open up midway, and I bled all over again? Yeah. Was it worth it? Fuck, yeah.

When I woke up early, my sleepyhead princess was still fast asleep. She tends to fall into coma-level sleep when next to me, drops down like the world finally lets her breathe. I chose to take that as a personal achievement.

I took a quick shower after, checked my bandage, then kissed Aylin’s sweet face, tucked her in properly before I left the house.

I had two very important tasks on my to-do list.

One, get my princess her favorite green swamp drink.

Two, this.

My eyes fell on Adam as I walked inside the abandoned store, “Morning,” I said, a bit too cheerfully. Well, how could I not be? Today was going to be a very productive one.

Adam eyed me a bit warily.

His gaze drifted to the door leading to the back, before he turned to me, a low breath pushed out of his chest. “You’re sure about this?”

I nodded, “Are you, by any chance, questioning me?”

His jaw tightened. He didn’t answer, just stepped aside, clearing the path like a man who valued his continued existence. Good choice.

I ignored him and pushed the door open, shut it behind me, and walked in.

I stopped when a familiar pair of green eyes snapped up to meet mine. Same color, same shape, yet so different and completely wrong. I didn’t have any weaknesses for these eyes. If anything, the resemblance irritated me, like a bad forgery hanging too close to the original.

Heck, I could’ve carved those eyes out and called it the happiest day of my life.

Now, they widened as recognition caught up to her fear. She tugged uselessly at the restraints, the panic making her sloppy.

“Layla,” I said fondly, clicking my tongue as I crouched in front of her. “Sweet, unfortunate Layla.”

“I will kill you,” she spat, lunging forward as far as she could, hissing the promise like it meant something. “I give you my word.”

“Now, let’s not get too ambitious,” I muttered while rolling my eyes.

I tilted my head, studying her face, that almost-familiar wrongness. “I’ll admit, this is going to make things…complicated.” I paused. “You look too much like my princess.”

Unsettling, really.

I rubbed my hands together, the sound loud in the quiet room, and smiled again, this time without bothering to make it friendly.

“So,” I said lightly, “you’re going to talk.”

My gaze drifted around the room before settling back on her, “Or it’ll get really ugly in here.”

⊹˚₊‧──────────────────‧₊˚⊹

Author’s note:

In Nathan’s defense, he has this unsettling theory that someone had sexually assaulted Aylin so he might go rogue…

Anyways, like I said, we enjoy toxic fictional men in here, and we run away from them in real life.
I feel like I should keep reminding you so you won’t come attacking me xD

Next chapter, it’ll be the Christmas-themed one, and will be up on Thursday or Friday.

See ya then, and happy holidays! 💚