Chapter 38

“I watched her breathe
like it was a privilege
I had to earn daily.
Counted her steps.
Tracked her shadows.
Memorized the way she survives
without me.“

One month later…

Aylin’s POV

Life continued, breaking itself into manageable pieces, mornings folding into nights, and days blurring together.

Enough time had passed since that day, the one I never want repeated. The one where I cried so hard my chest ached for days after.

I haven’t cried since, more like…I ran out of tears and decided to redirect that energy into surviving like a functional adult.

So, I focused on myself, on my health, on my routines, and on getting my life together and back on track.

I stayed at my grandfather’s house like I promised, not because I needed it, but because he did.

He stayed here for me, so I stayed only for him.

Because after I heard them in that study, after I stood outside that door and listened to my mother say my existence was painful, something in me snapped into place with an awful kind of clarity.

Grandpa was the only one who ever consistently chose me, not when it was convenient, not when it made him look good, and not when it was easy.

Just…always.

Even when it cost him things. Even when it made him the villain in their stories for some reason.

I used to know that he cared for me, but after that night, I didn’t just know it.

I became so sure that he was the only one in my family who stood between me and the worst of them. The only one who looked at me like I was worth the trouble, worth the fight, worth staying.

So now I make sure he feels it, too.

I’ve been hugging him more lately. Some nights I end up curled beside him, my head in his lap like I’m five again and the world isn’t such a complicated, ugly place. I keep asking him to tell me more stories about Grandma, mainly because just talking about her makes him happy.

My mother stayed here too.

Somehow, grandpa convinced her. I didn’t ask how, and I didn’t care. She traveled more often than not, on work trips, conferences, excuses…and honestly? I was grateful.

After that day, I stopped trying.

I didn’t attempt to bond with her, didn’t lean in, and didn’t reach out. I leaned away.

There’s a strange peace in accepting that some forms of love are simply unavailable to you. That you’re not broken for wanting them, but you’re allowed to stop waiting.

Motherhood, at least the kind that felt warm, safe, and unconditional, was not something she could give me.

To be honest, I didn’t even want it anymore.

Then, in the midst of all that, there was Nathan.

Which is…hilarious, because I thought he would be the hardest part of all of this, that he’d bulldoze through whatever boundary I drew like it was optional, but no, he did something wildly out of character.

He stayed away, just like I requested.

He didn’t show up unannounced, didn’t pull me into his chaos, didn’t kidnap me in my sleep, per his words. He gave me space, real physical space.

It was infuriatingly mature of him.

He respected what I needed, even when it went against everything he is, and somehow, that made me miss him and want him more than anything.

God, I do miss him…a lot, because even when he’s not there, he’s still everywhere, under my skin, in the back of my head, in the empty space beside me that my body keeps expecting to be filled by him.

He texted me nonstop, though. Every day. Constantly. Whenever he got bored, whenever he had a thought, or whenever Luna existed within his line of sight.

Mostly nonsense texts, ridiculous observations, half-finished thoughts. Pictures of Luna sprawled on his chest with captions like, “She misses you too. Come say hi.” Or of her fast asleep on one of my sweatshirts, with, “I keep telling her you abandoned her, but she still seeks your scent. I’m raising her well.”

At the beginning, I didn’t respond to every single message. I left him on read a couple of times, mostly for my own sanity, but he soon spiraled and spammed me aggressively. So I made an executive decision for the sake of everyone’s mental health, including his, and started replying to all of his silly messages.

Which is how I found myself lying in bed every night, phone pressed to my chest, smiling like a teenager texting her boyfriend behind her family’s back.

Embarrassing, truly.

I scrolled through our latest messages, grinning stupidly at the menace of a man.

My psycho:
I need to recharge.
Hugging you would do that.
or kissing you.
or fucking you.
You know what, forget all the above, fucking you would definitely recharge me for days, want me to sneak in at night?

Me:
What happened to hello?

My psycho:
Hello, I’d like to fuck you.

Me: *rolling eyes emoji*

My psycho:
I am adding that damned emoji to the list of things I’ll punish you for.

Me:
You talk a big game.

My psycho:
Baby, I am pretty sure you still have marks on your body that prove how big my game is.

I bit my lip, heat rushing to my face on instinct alone. He wasn’t wrong. The last faint reminders of him, the little nicks his knife had left behind on my skin, had only just faded away. If anything, it made me want him to replace them.

Damn him and his infectious depraved tendencies.

I was never like this, never aching in that way. I don’t know what kind of poison he slipped into my bloodstream, but every night my thoughts drifted back to him without permission, to his hands, his lips, and just everything about him.

So, sometimes, I played the dangerous game of pushing back, testing his limits, because a very small, silly part of me was hoping he’d actually break into my room at night and make those fantasies into something real.

Me:
Funny…I was just thinking how unfair that they all faded away.
Makes me wonder if you plan on fixing that problem.

My psycho:
Goddammit. Don’t tempt me, princess.

I am one bad decision away from ruining my one-month progress and your sleep schedule.

Don’t poke the monster, he’ll eat you alive.

I almost texted him, let’s ruin it, stop behaving and come here, do eat me alive I need you, but I held myself back.

Part of me had had enough space, enough time, enough pretending I didn’t want him back in every possible way. I wanted him, all of him, with no distance and no restraint.

But another, far more dangerous part of me wanted him to snap on his own, to reach his limit, to stop behaving, to come back for me without me asking.

It was stupid, considering I was the one who pushed him away in the first place, but logic has never survived long where Nathan is concerned. He made me as addicted and as toxic as him, and I am no longer complaining.

I scrolled further, reading more of our texts, pausing on the photo he’d sent earlier of him sitting back against a cushion, Luna sprawled on the top of his head, fast asleep, her paws curled in and tangling with his hair.

My psycho:
She bit my ankle and then fell asleep.
Definitely your daughter.
Adorably aggressive.

I stared at the photo for a solid fifteen minutes, zooming in on his face, his stupid mouth, his beautiful eyes, that familiar, infuriating expression that always made me feel like he was trouble, the kind I’d follow anywhere.

I smiled so hard my cheeks hurt, then, without thinking twice, I made it my screensaver, so I can see him whenever I pick up my phone.

God, it was insane. You’d think a month away would push us further apart.

Instead, it only made me want him more.

Me: Going for a walk. Don’t disturb me *grey heart emoji*

My psycho: *red heart emoji*

I paused at the top of the stairs and chuckled. His ridiculous hatred for that grey heart was so damn amusing. I shoved my phone into my jacket pocket and lifted my head.

I looked down the stairs, and my smile slowly dropped, that eerie feeling creeping back in again, like a cold thread pulling at the back of my skull.

Every time I looked down these stairs, this…flash, or memory crept back in. I haven’t understood it yet. It was so fragmented and unclear, of me, much younger me, standing by the stairs, looking down.

Almost like…I was waiting for something to happen, or maybe witnessing something that had already happened.

My stomach turned.

I never quite got it. Did I ever fall down these stairs?

The question didn’t even finish forming before the white flash hit me again, much harder this time, and my vision dipped. I winced and squeezed my eyes shut, pressing the heel of my palm to my forehead as if I could shove the feeling back where it came from.

For one dizzy second, I felt myself tip forward.

Just then, fingers closed around my elbow and pulled me back with a careful force. A startled sound slipped out of me as I stumbled into warmth, into a solid chest, and an unfamiliar scent caught in my lungs, something woody, earthy, and clean.

I opened my eyes in haze and met a pair of slightly confused blue ones. The man’s brows drew together, something like concern creased his forehead as he looked me over.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

Reality snapped back into place, and I pulled away quickly, putting a small but deliberate inch of space between us as I glanced at the stairs. “Uh…yeah. I am.”

My pulse was still misbehaving at the sudden flashes in my head, and I forced myself to look back at the man, trying to place where he’d come from.

“You almost tripped,” he said calmly, nodding toward the steps.

Before I could respond, Grandpa’s footsteps sounded behind him as he stepped out of his study.

“Ah,” Grandpa said, his voice brightening at my sight. “Eli, I see you’ve met my granddaughter.”

The young man turned slightly at that, facing Grandpa as he moved closer.

“Aylin, sweetheart,” Grandpa said, resting a hand briefly on my shoulder, “This is the new CEO of our company, Eli, I told you about him.”

The name clicked into place.

“Oh,” I said, nodding in realization. “Yeah, Grandpa’s mentioned you…quite a bit, actually.”

Eli’s gaze returned to me, assessing in a way that felt more curious than invasive.

“Well,” he said lightly, then glanced at Grandpa, “he didn’t tell me nearly enough about you.”

Grandpa’s welcoming expression fell off for just a fraction, so quick it could’ve been missed if you weren’t looking for it as he assessed the man, then smoothed it away quickly, turning his attention back to me.

“Are you heading out?” he asked.

I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear and nodded. “Yeah, just going for a walk.”

Grandpa nodded and offered me a small smile, “Okay, take care.”

The other man stepped aside without being asked, giving me room to pass.

“Nice to meet you,” I said politely, meeting his gaze once more.

“The pleasure’s all mine,” he replied, his voice ever so smooth.

I offered Grandpa a quick smile before starting down the stairs, acutely aware, without looking back, that I was being watched. God, I hated this feeling.

I got into my car, shook off the awkward tension, and drove to my usual spot at the marina for my daily walk. It was the only place that made my mind feel…less crowded. Walking and jogging helped me, always have.

The silence, the water, the steady rhythm of my steps…it all took my boiling emotions and reduced them to something simpler, something I could carry.

So, I pulled my hair into a ponytail and started jogging.

Malcolm told me to keep doing this. Keep doing whatever helps you regulate and relax, he’d said.

This past month, I started what was supposed to be my treatment. Malcolm prescribed a few medications, and I began stopping by his clinic once a week for routine tests so he could track any changes or disturbances. He made it very clear that these drugs weren’t light, that they could help, but they could also backfire if no one was watching closely.

I wasn’t sure yet if they were working in any obvious way, but I don’t think I’ve had any blanking-out episodes or memory gaps lately. I’ve been keeping a journal too, to track myself and doings, and so far, so good…other than those occasional flashes, there hasn’t been anything concerning.

Medication wasn’t the only thing Malcolm wanted in place, though. He said I should start therapy with someone he could work alongside, someone who would track my progress with him, not separately. He mentioned that for some of his patients, he usually brings Natalie in.

Which is how I figured that Nathan probably found Malcolm through her.

At first, I hesitated.

The idea of working with anyone even remotely close to Nathan felt…risky, that maybe it could do more damage than good, that it would blur lines I’d been trying very hard to keep sharp.

Malcolm asked me to at least try. He said she was the best he knew for this. He said they understood each other’s work style, that it mattered, because if my mind was going to keep slipping, the people helping me needed to be in sync.

So, after a lot of thought, I went to her, and something about Natalie, her warm presence, her calmness, her professionalism, made it much easier than I expected. She didn’t pry, didn’t corner me, and I’ve been seeing her twice a week ever since.

She didn’t pressure me. She only asked small questions and let me answer them in my own time. She listened when I talked, and even when I didn’t.

Our goal is simple, she said, even if it doesn’t feel easy. I needed to find ways to process my emotions without overloading my brain and making myself slip. That I couldn’t keep boiling everything inside like I’ve been doing since I was young.

She said control isn’t a bad thing, but I’ve been holding onto it for so long that the second it cracks, everything floods out at once.

I told her how there are parts of my childhood I don’t remember, and whenever Grandpa tries to fill in the blanks for me, I collapse, and I forget it all over again.

Natalie said that if remembering was going to happen, it had to happen on my own terms, without anyone forcing it open from the outside.

She said maybe that was what those flashes were.

Not my brain betraying me.

My brain…trying.

Boats rocked lazily in the water beside me, the ropes creaking, and masts clinking softly like wind chimes. People passed me, some jogging, some walking, and others talking over coffee. The sound of my shoes striking concrete fell into rhythm with my breathing, steady at first, then heavier as I pushed myself harder.

Everything blurred together, the voices, the movement, the salt in the air, the echo of many words looping in my head.

My lungs burned, and my chest tightened.

I slowed down, then stopped at the metal railing, my hands gripping the cold bars as I bent forward and pulled in a deep breath.

I straightened slowly and lifted my gaze to the horizon, where the water met the sky in a clean, uninterrupted line.

I closed my eyes and breathed in deeply.

Something was blooming inside me, something I hadn’t had before. Something Malcolm’s careful explanations, Natalie’s steady patience, and even Nathan’s unrelenting support had quietly planted. It felt fragile, tentative.

It felt like…hope.

For the first time, this thing inside my head had a name, and maybe that made it…less terrifying, less like a curse waiting to claim me. It made it manageable, something I could face instead of run from.

Maybe…I could do this.

Maybe I wouldn’t meet the same fate my grandmother did, afterall.

The thought barely settled before that familiar sensation crept in again, the one I’d been getting more often than not lately.

I straightened slowly, my fingers tightening around the railing as awareness prickled at the back of my neck. This wasn’t fear, no, just that unmistakable feeling of being observed. Eyes somewhere behind me, tracking my movements everywhere I went.

And no, this wasn’t whoever had been sending me those creepy notes or messages. Those had stopped, strangely enough. An entire month of silence on that front.

This felt different.

Familiar, in a way.

Annoying, too.

I slipped my phone from my pocket and opened the front camera, angling it like I was checking my face, tilting my head just enough to scan the reflections behind me. Joggers. A couple walking their dog. Someone on the phone.

And…oh, right there, so subtle and careful. Found you.

I locked my phone, my mouth curving faintly as a plan clicked into place.

Fine.

Game on.

I pushed off the railing and started jogging again, ever so unbothered, like I hadn’t noticed a thing. I kept my pace steady until I reached the narrow path that split off beside the dock, then, at the last second, I veered right and stopped.

I counted in my head.

One.

Two.

Three—

A shadow followed the path I just took, and I quickly jumped out in front of him.

He startled, just for a heartbeat. A sharp breath left him as he halted on reflex, stopping short of colliding with me. Then, almost immediately, his expression locked into something hard and unreadable, like surprise was an indulgence he didn’t allow himself.

Well, too late.

I crossed my arms and narrowed my eyes at the man, satisfaction blooming in my chest.

I knew him.

He was Nathan’s friend, bodyguard, assistant, or something along those lines. The man who’d picked me up from the cabin when Nathan left me there. I remembered his face, even if his name refused to surface.

“Hi,” I said sweetly and tilted my head, “You’re bad at this.”

He took a step back, his posture snapping rigid, and his jaw setting tight. Not a flicker crossed his face, not recognition, not irritation, and not even surprise. Just control, pulled firmly into place.

Up close, he looked younger than I’d expected, late twenties, maybe, but there was nothing soft about him. His face was all sharp lines and quiet restraint. Dark hair fell messily over his forehead, a bit thick and messy, like he ran his hands through it more often than a brush ever touched it.

A faint scar cut through one eyebrow, so pale against his skin, tracing down past his eye toward the middle of his cheek. Old enough to have faded, subtle enough to miss if you weren’t paying attention. It didn’t ruin his face. If anything, it sharpened it, gave it…history.

His eyes were steel grey, almost dark. The kind of gaze that measured distance, exits, and threats. That didn’t linger longer than necessary, but missed nothing while it passed.

He wore a fitted dark shirt, his sleeves pushed up, and just beneath the collar, ink crept into view, a tattoo climbing up his chest. Fine lines curved and layered into one another, forming a shape I couldn’t quite decipher.

I held his gaze, my eyebrow raising when he kept silent, “Is your boss here too?” I asked, my eyes flickering around, though I doubted it.

He shook his head once, his face still void of any form of reaction, almost robotic.

On any other day, someone who looked like him would’ve scared me off. I wouldn’t have gone out of my way to speak to him, but well, if Nathan had sent him, then I wasn’t in danger.

So I leaned into it.

“What’s your name?” I asked, curious, my voice lighter than it probably should’ve been.

He exhaled through his nose, almost in annoyance, like I was a problem he couldn’t legally eliminate. His eyes slid away for a second, probably calculating how to escape me and yet still track me.

“You don’t talk?” I pushed on again.

He looked back at me, his jaw tight. “Not supposed to.”

His voice was rough, low, and minimal, like he paid for words and hated wasting money.

My lips curved. “Not supposed to?” I repeated, testing for loopholes. “What about blinking twice for yes and once for no?”

Nothing.

Not even a twitch on his face.

I sighed and stuck my hand out anyway. “I’m Aylin, by the way.” The second it left my mouth, I realised how ridiculous it sounded. I scoffed at myself, “Not that you don’t already know that, silly me.”

His eyes fell on my extended hand, then back to my face, his brows pulling closer, just slightly, like he didn’t understand why I was talking to him in the first place, or why I wasn’t angry that he was following me around.

Well, I knew Nathan wouldn’t have stayed far for this long without having eyes on me. I will scratch that psycho’s face when I see him, just wait for it. He truly won’t quit his creepy stalking tendencies.

I frowned when he didn’t take my hand and eventually lowered it. “You know, the normal thing to do here is shake my hand and tell me your name.”

“I happen to value my life,” He said with his distinctive voice and an accent similar to that of Nathan’s.

My brows drew together as I processed that. Then it clicked. “Oh, Nathan told you not to interact with me, didn’t he?”

He didn’t answer.

Which was answer enough.

I sighed and shook my head. “Okay, but hear me out. If you don’t report this to him…how would he know?”

“I will have to report this incident to him,” he informed me, as if it were some written rule.

My eyebrows pulled closer, “While at it, can you tell him Aylin tells you, you are dead meat,” I added with playful aggressiveness.

He stayed unreactive, so I sighed, “Anyway, I’m going to resume my walk, and you lurking behind me is a little uncomfortable, so…would you mind leaving?”

His eyebrows pulled closer, and he shook his head.

I exhaled loudly. “Okay. Then you can walk with me?”

He shook his head again.

I stared at him for a second, then tilted my head. “So you’re just…going to keep following me?”

“Yes.”

“From far away?”

“Yes.”

“Forever?”

He didn’t answer.

I rubbed my face and looked back at him. “You know, you might just have the worst job in the world.”

For the first time, something almost flickered in his dead eyes. Almost.

“I hope he at least pays you well,” I added, genuinely feeling for the poor guy. The hell Nathan must put him through had to qualify as a hostile work environment.

There it was again, that same barely-there softening in his expression, like he wanted to smile but didn’t know how.

“Can you just…” He paused, carefully choosing his words, “…go back to your walk?”

I nodded. “I will. I swear. I’ll even stop pestering you,” I added, “If you just tell me your name.”

Silence stretched between us, long enough that I started wondering if he’d ever talk again.

Then, quietly, he said, “Adam.”

“Oh,” I smiled, immediately pleased. I reached out and tapped my hand lightly against his arm. “Nice to meet you, Adam.”

He recoiled, like I’d burned him, actually stepped back from my touch. God, what did Nathan threaten the poor guy with?

I raised both hands in surrender, “Okay, okay, noted.”

I decided not to get him murdered on day one, and turned to resume my walk, but I couldn’t help glancing over my shoulder with a small smile and said, “Uh…have a nice walk, I guess.”

I went back to my walk, but I was painfully aware of Adam’s presence now, which completely defeated the point of being here. It’s hard to clear your mind when someone’s clearing your perimeter.

So I did the next best thing.

I stopped at my favorite coffee shop for my second matcha of the day, because Nathan, in all his infuriating consistency, kept our ritual alive by sending me one every single morning. The asshole had a real talent for making it impossible to stay mad at him.

The barista smiled the second she saw me. “The usual?”

I nodded. “Yes, please, and…” I glanced outside through the glass and saw Adam hovering at a distance like a brooding statue, “…an americano too.”

When the drinks were ready, I took the cups and stepped outside, scanning until I found him again. He saw me approaching, and his face did that annoyed twist again, as if he was bracing for impact.

I stopped in front of him and held out the americano. “Here.”

He looked at it like it was poisoned, then shook his head.

“I already bought it,” I said, refusing to be reasonable. “If you don’t take it, it’s going to go to waste, so here, come on.”

His jaw tightened. He hesitated for a long minute, probably weighing Nathan’s orders against the social crime of rejecting a free drink.

With a long, defeated sigh, he reached for it. “Thank you.”

I beamed. “You’re welcome.”

I plopped onto the bench nearby and took a sip of my matcha. Then I patted the spot beside me. “You can sit,” I said, adding sarcastically, “Following me around must be exhausting.”

He stared at the bench, then at me.

I patted it again.

He clearly knew I would pester him until the end of time, so he sat down, carefully, on the far edge of the bench, leaving a noticeable distance between us.

He took one sip of his coffee, swallowed, and immediately straightened, his eyes scanning the crowd like he was never off duty.

“Nathan won’t like this,” he said.

I rolled my eyes. “Nathan doesn’t like anything.” I shrugged, “Except himself, of course.”

Adam didn’t argue.

“I’ll talk to him,” I said, waving a hand. “Don’t worry. I won’t let him do anything to you.”

His mouth twitched, just slightly, barely there, but I caught it, and he shook his head, almost disapproving, like I was being ridiculous. I gasped audibly, and he turned to me. “So, you do smile, huh?” I said in utter delight.

His expression flattened immediately.

My eyebrow lifted, and I leaned closer anyway, clinking my cup gently against his. “Cheers.”

We resumed our drinking in comfortable silence when my phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out, fully expecting Nathan, because no one texts me as relentlessly as he does.

My smile vanished instantly as I read the new words over the screen, the anger rolling back within me like a tide that hadn’t gone far at all.

The one-month quiet, the break I’d almost started to trust, snapped like a thread.

Unknown number:
Is he your new boy toy?

My grip tightened around my phone.

Another message followed before I could even breathe.

Unknown number:
Not gonna lie…I think I like this one better.

The last one was getting rather inconvenient.

I am starting to think it might be time to get rid of him for real, don’t you think so?

⊹˚₊‧────────────‧₊˚⊹

Nathan’s POV

I am developing this newfound grudge against Natalie.

Why, you might ask?

Well, she refuses to tell me a damn thing about her sessions with my princess.

Also—small minor detail—I haven’t seen Aylin in a month.

A month.

And Natalie has been seeing her twice a week. Twice. A. Week.

So fucking unfair.

I shot Natalie another glare. She caught it and flashed me an innocent, questioning look in return before I turned my attention back to Malcolm, listening to his nonsensical words.

At the end of every week, they met to review Aylin’s case, and I’d more or less forced myself into those meetings. They complained, but who gives a fuck, really. Natalie still wouldn’t tell me anything, though.

“Patient privacy,” she said. “Confidentiality,” she said. “Ethics,” she said.

Blah-fucking-blah.

The fuck is wrong with her? Does she clock in early just to make me hate her more?

Malcolm kept on talking, something about progress, stability, and reduced episodes. All those safe, careful words doctors used when they didn’t want to promise anything.

He was optimistic, apparently.

I didn’t believe in optimism.

I believed in certainty, and there was no certainty as long as there was no definite cure.

One wrong slip and my princess could hurt herself. I was fully aware of that. The thought lived in my ribs, it kept me awake for days, it sat on my chest whenever I tried to breathe, and followed me like a fucking shadow everywhere I went.

Add to that the fact that I hadn’t seen her pretty face in a month, and yeah, I was reaching my absolute limit.

I tried punching people, picked up fights I didn’t need, broke bones that weren’t mine. I thought the violence would bleed the edge off, that it would drain the restless energy crawling under my skin.

Surprise, surprise, it didn’t.

Even when I was bathed in their blood, it didn’t.

Blood wasn’t working anymore.

My knife, my favorite companion, didn’t sing the way it used to. It still cut, still bit, still tore into skin, but it didn’t satisfy me. It didn’t scratch the itch, because the itch wasn’t violence anymore.

It was her.

Fuck it, I’d been good for far too long. Give me a day or two, maximum. If she doesn’t come back to me, I’m going in. I’ll break into her grandfather’s castle and kidnap her. Let them stop me if they can.

Other than violence, I focused on the only thing that mattered…finding a way, a cure, anything. I researched, contacted doctors all over the world, chased every lead, every paper, every specialist who’d ever dealt with anything remotely similar.

I went back to England for a week, spent some time with Christian, then dug through a few connections. Found one doctor who led me to another in Germany, and I’ve been in contact with him ever since.

Because at the end of this, I will find a way.

I don’t care how long it takes. I don’t care who I have to threaten, pay, or break. My princess is going to be okay.

We left Malcolm’s clinic after yet another unfruitful session, Natalie beside me as we walked out of the building. I didn’t bother pretending I wasn’t glaring at her whenever our eyes met.

She’d been getting my princess’s time, and I hadn’t. Sue me, but I was so fucking jealous.

“See you next week,” Natalie said, ever so sweetly as she paused by the entrance.

I kept walking toward the parking lot, then glanced back when I noticed she wasn’t moving. She was tapping away on her phone.

“You’re not leaving?” I asked, jerking my chin toward the lot.

She lifted her head. “Uh, my car’s at the shop, so Nik dropped me off.” Her attention went back to the screen, “I’ll just call him to pick me up—”

I rolled my eyes, and then, because apparently I’m suffering from a rare condition called being decent against my will, I heard myself say, “I can…drop you off, if you want, I mean.”

Natalie looked up, faintly surprised by my offer.

I scowled. “Don’t make it a thing.” I flicked my gaze away. “I’ll get to see Maria at least. I…kind of miss her.”

Natalie’s lips tilted, ever so amused. “Okay.”

She fell into step beside me like this was so normal. I shot her another glare as we walked. “I need to stop by my place first,” I checked my watch, “I need to put food for Lu…my cat.”

Natalie’s eyes lit up immediately, “Oh my god, can I see her?” she asked, far too enthusiastic, “Aylin told me about her, please, just a peek?”

I shot her another glare. First, she took my princess, and now she wants my cat. Fantastic.

I got into the car without bothering to answer her, and not long after, she joined me. I turned on some music so she’d refrain from opening her mouth and turning this into a bonding moment. Thankfully, she just stared out of the window, silent and deep in her thoughts.

When we arrived at my place, I parked in the driveway and pushed the door open. “You can come down,” I muttered, not bothering to look at her as I got out.

By the time I rounded the car, she was stepping down too, practically glowing. “How old is she?” she asked, beaming. “We had two cats, but—” her lips dipped into a small pout, her brows furrowing, “we l—”

I lifted my hand as my gaze swept the driveway.

She stopped mid-word.

The air shifted strangely. Something wasn’t right.

My spine went rigid as that familiar itch crawled up the back of my neck, the one that had kept me alive long before I ever cared to be, these newly-acquired survival instincts kicking into place.

It was dark, with no lights on in the driveway, just moonlight pooling over the concrete and a far-off streetlamp casting thin, weak shadows.

I didn’t see him, but I…heard him.

Crunch.

A step, too close, too deliberate to be an animal.

Natalie’s brows pinched together. My gaze warned her to stay quiet as my hand slipped into my pocket and closed around the cold metal.

“Don’t move,” I muttered, low.

I drew out my knife and turned around just in time as the first man came from my blind side.

My body moved before thought bothered to catch up. I pivoted hard, drove my shoulder into his chest, and buried the knife into his arm with a sharp twist. He grunted, staggered, tried to shove me off like that was ever going to work.

I shoved him back like he weighed nothing, already scanning for the second.

Oh, there you are.

The second bastard lunged from behind the car. Fast, I’d give him that, but sloppy. A goddamn rookie, it was almost insulting to my skills. I ducked under his swing, caught his jacket, and slammed his head into the hood hard enough to dent metal. He reeled, dazed, blood and confusion mixing nicely over his face.

He tried to come at me again, but I quickly kicked his knee sideways, felt it give, then shoved him down before he could even pretend to be a threat to me. He hit the ground hard, groaning, and I followed him there, one knee pressed to his chest, my knife sliding up under his jaw, right where it belonged.

His breath hitched, and his eyes went wide. Good. Fear looks good on idiots.

“Don’t,” he rasped.

I smiled. “Too late.”

“If I were you, I’d think twice before doing that,” The voice came from behind me, seething and trying very hard to sound in control.

I didn’t move the knife, didn’t loosen my grip. I only tightened my hold on the man beneath me as I turned my head slowly.

The first guy, the one with the bleeding arm, had Natalie locked against him now. One arm cinched around her torso, the other pressed a blade to her throat, not cutting, yet.

Just enough pressure to promise it.

My jaw locked.

“Let him go,” the man said casually, “Or she dies.”

I chuckled, humorlessly, “You should’ve done your homework,” I said, my knife pressing harder into the man beneath me until he whimpered. “I don’t negotiate well under pressure.”

The man’s eyes flashed with rage, and he did the same, driving his blade harder into Natalie’s throat.

A thin line of blood welled.

Natalie jerked, snarling more than screaming, twisting in his grip and throwing an elbow back. For a quick second, she almost slipped free, but his arm tightened like a vise, yanking her back against him, the knife shifting dangerously close to her pulse.

“Let him go,” he growled, panic bleeding through the threat. “One push and she’s dead, believe me.”

I shrugged, my head tilting, “As I said, you should’ve done your homework,” I added, far too casual, enough to throw him off, “I don’t give a crap about her, so, go ahead,” I jerked my chin, and my smile sharpened, “Kill her.”

Then, without hesitation, I sliced the man beneath me open in one quick motion.

The sound he made was brief. Hmm. Disappointing.

“You fucker!” the other one snapped, his face turning a violent shade under the moonlight.

His shock worked to my advantage; it slowed him down as I turned around quickly and flung my knife, so fast, my aim right, the distance and angle already calculated in my head as the blade flew and pierced him right in the shoulder.

He staggered back with a choked gasp, his grip loosening as the pain rewired his priorities.

That was all Natalie needed.

She moved immediately, drove her elbow back into his ribs with everything she had, then twisted hard, ripping herself free as his arm faltered. She stumbled away, furious and breathing hard, disappearing into the dark like she refused to be anyone’s leverage.

I should’ve felt nothing.

That’s the thing.

I hate Natalie.

I’ve told myself I do. I’ve repeated it enough that it should be true.

So why did my vision go red?

Why did something hot and violent detonate in my chest the second I saw the thin line of blood at her throat?

Why did my body react like he’d touched something that…belonged to me?

I didn’t have time to answer any of that.

I grabbed him by the collar and harshly yanked him close, my forehead slamming into his face with enough force to make him see fucking stars. He groaned loudly, but I didn’t let him recover as I pulled my knife from his shoulder and stabbed him in the chest, twisting it deep.

I wanted him to feel what he’d done. I wanted it to register before I ended him for real.

He collapsed, choking, scrambling, trying to crawl away. I kicked him hard, pushing him down again.

A gun skittered across the ground when he fell.

I picked it up before I pressed my boot over his chest, right over the wound, and leaned my weight in slowly, watching his face twist as the pain crept through him. The sounds he made were so beautifully human.

I smiled, “Guns,” I said thoughtfully, turning it in my hand like I was considering it. “Never really liked them, not my favorite toy.”

He gurgled something. A plea, maybe. A threat, hard to tell when you’re drowning in your own stupidity.

“They’re not personal,” I went on, my voice low with amusement. “There is no art in using them.”

I lifted it and aimed, pretending to squint my eye.

“But they do save time.”

I fired one shot, and it went right between his brows, killing him instantly.

“Oops, I was aiming for your chest, my bad,” I muttered mildly, letting the gun fall and clatter over his dead, useless body.

My gaze snapped to Natalie as she stood a few steps away, one hand at her throat, wincing as her fingers wiped at the thin line of blood. Her jaw was locked so tight, and her shoulders were drawn up, rigid.

I moved toward her without thinking, my hand reaching for her arm. “Let me chec—”

She flinched from my touch and moved away, building distance, “Don’t,” She muttered, lowly.

My brows pulled together. “Natalie—”

She didn’t hear me, or maybe didn’t want to. She started to walk away, leaving the driveway and heading for the street, as if she couldn’t stand being in the space with…me.

Something in my chest tightened. Annoyance, I told myself, just annoyance. Yeah, she has a talent for it, irritating me in ways most people don’t live long enough to attempt. Her husband manages it too, so clearly it’s contagious.

I caught up in two strides and closed my hand around her arm, hard enough to make her stop.

“Natalie?” I tried again, my eyes scanning her in the dark, trying to catalog how badly she’d been hurt.

She turned to face me, ripped her arm free from my grip, and stepped back. Something in her expression shifted. The warmth she usually carried, the patience she wore, cracked. Her eyes hardened, just enough to tell me I’d pushed her to a line she didn’t often reach.

“I tried, you know,” She mumbled, her voice low but slightly shaky.

“I really tried, Nathan. I tried to…make this work somehow. I tried to give you a chance after everything you’ve done to me, I tried, but you just make it so damn difficult, don’t you?”

I opened my mouth to speak, but she shook her head and cut me off.

“No,” she said quietly, lifting a hand between us. “Now it’s my turn, and you’re going to listen.”

Her voice hardened as she went on. “You remember what you did to me, right? Of course, you do, you never shy away from owning that, but let me remind you anyway…you hurt my son.”

Her jaw clenched so tight, “You hurt my little boy, and I saw him, I held him when he was unconscious and bleeding because of you. Do you have any idea what that felt like?”

She shook her head before I could answer. “You don’t, because you don’t have a child of your own.” Her eyes glossed, but she refused to let the tears fall. “Maybe one day, if you do, you’ll understand it.”

Her voice dropped, “When…when I held him, for one moment, just a moment, I felt like I’ve lost him forever, and believe me, there isn’t a pain bigger than that.”

Her throat bobbed, “I lost my mother, nearly lost my father, and I lost…you, but none of that compares to what I felt when Nathan got hurt,” She pointed her finger at me, “when I knew that it was you who did that to him.”

My jaw tightened, “They, why did you try?” I addressed her previous words.

“Because you were dying, Nathan,” she shot back. “Because I know you’ve been through hell more times than anyone should.” Her voice cracked. “Because I’ve lost you twice already, once when you were born and he took you from us, and again when that damned explosion happened, and they told me you were dead.”

“I thought…maybe this was our chance. I thought you’d want it. I thought I could put my pain aside and be there for you, but you don’t even let me, you don’t…you don’t want me, or Ronald, or anyone.”

She shrugged helplessly, echoing my words, “So why do I even try, right?”

I nodded once. “Exactly.”

She nodded too, one tear slipping free. Her nose was red from the cold.

“Yeah,” she whispered. “Because I’m only human, Nathan. I can’t do this alone, it’s a two way street. I can’t carry this and take your hurtful words, your actions, and still keep fighting for you. I can’t do it when you never even told me you were maybe…sorry?”

She sniffled, “That you at least regret it? That you wish you hadn’t hurt him?” Her voice dropped to a whisper, and she shook her head, “Because he didn’t do anything to you.”

She pressed a hand to her chest, “Because I didn’t do anything to you either. I wasn’t the one who hurt you.” She sniffed, shaking her head. “If I had known you were alive…there isn’t a thing I wouldn’t have done to get you back, you have no idea.”

“But you like to blame me…only me, for some reason, I know that you do. I just don’t know why, but still, I hoped you’d see me. I hoped you’d see my feelings for what they are, but you didn’t, because you simply don’t want to, and that’s okay,” She nodded, “You’re an adult now, it’s your life, you can do whatever you want.”

She sniffled again, wiping under her eyes with her sleeve. “You were a kid back then, and I keep forgetting that maybe you don’t remember the things that I do.”

I remember it all. That was the fucking problem, I remember everything. I remember what I had, and I remember exactly what I lost.

She took a step back, as if distance was the only way she could breathe now.

“I think it’s better if we just…don’t see each other anymore,” she said, “I think that’s what you’d prefer, and it would be for the best. For me, too.”

Her eyes flicked away, then back, one last time.

“I thought…I thought I could do this the way I do it with my patients,” she admitted, “Put my emotions aside and focus on the person in front of me.” Her head shook slowly. “But you’re not my patient, Nathan, you are my brother, my little brother, and I can’t keep my emotions out of this.”

She scrubbed at her eyes with the back of her sleeve again, angry at herself for needing to.

“I’ll keep seeing Aylin, I really do want to help her, if I can.” She drew a breath, “And if you want to know anything…you can ask Malcolm from now on.”

Then, she turned around and walked out of the driveway.

I watched her step into the street, then paused near one of the trees lining the sidewalk, and something unfamiliar twisted in me…just annoyance, probably.

I followed her anyway.

I stopped a few steps behind her. “Let me drop you off,” I said, keeping my tone flat. “It’s late.”

She shook her head and lifted the phone to her ear without looking at me. “No, thanks.”

Then she spoke into it, her voice low. “Nik, hey…can you pick me up, please?” A pause. “I’m near Nathan’s place,” She nodded at whatever he said, “Yeah, okay…see you.”

She ended the call and walked to the bench beneath the streetlamp, dropping onto it like her legs had finally given up. She opened her front camera and angled it toward her neck. With careful fingers, she wiped away the thin smear of blood, wincing before she wrapped her scarf tighter around her throat, hiding it like it never happened.

I stayed still, didn’t leave her alone yet, as my eyes drifted around, checking if more danger lurked near. I leaned back against the tree and crossed my arms, my gaze drifting back to her despite myself.

“You don’t have to wait here,” she muttered, still not looking at me.

I decided against saying a thing now…there was no point anyway.

As I waited for Nikolas to come pick her up, I texted Adam to get a couple of guys and get rid of the mess in my driveway. I shoved my phone into my pocket and focused my gaze back on Natalie, trying my best not to think of her previous words.

No, I didn’t let them sink in.

Headlights cut through the dark a few minutes later.

A car slowed as it approached, its blinker flashing like it was about to turn into my driveway, then it hesitated. Nikolas must’ve spotted her sitting under the streetlamp instead, because the car rolled past the entrance and pulled over by the curb instead.

The engine shut off.

Nikolas was out before the door even finished closing.

“Natalie?” he called, concern sharp in his voice as he moved closer.

She looked up, already pushing herself to her feet, like she’d been waiting for that sound alone. She didn’t look back at me as she walked toward him. I watched her every step, tracked the way she moved, for some reason.

Nikolas reached her in two strides, his face already changing as his eyes scanned her.

“Are you okay?” he asked, softer than usual. His hand came up, cupping her cheek, his thumb brushing under her eye as if checking for tears. “Natalie…what’s wrong?”

She shook her head, forcing a small smile. “Nothing,” she said quickly. “Let’s go.”

She curled her hand around his arm to steer him toward the car, but he didn’t move.

His gaze must’ve caught on the faint redness around her eyes, the tension in her jaw, the way she kept her chin slightly lifted.

“Were you crying?” he asked.

Natalie’s mouth opened to speak, but his eyes flicked up.

They landed on me, and something in him locked.

His jaw clenched instantly. He stepped around her, the protective switch flipping so cleanly it was almost frightening.

“Nik,” Natalie grabbed at the back of his jacket, her eyes widening in alarm. “Wait—”

Too late.

He was on me in two strides, hands fisting in my collar and yanking me close like he wanted to shake answers out of my bones.

“What the fuck did you do?” he hissed.

I should’ve smiled, should’ve said something cruel, something that would make him see red and lose his grip on reason, but my mouth didn’t work the way it usually did.

My eyes flicked from him to Natalie, and for once, I didn’t have the energy to taunt, didn’t have the appetite to play the monster everyone expected.

I just…stood there, a bit thrown off my axis, just watching her.

Nikolas pulled me closer, his grip tightening. “Look, I can take your nonsense, your tantrums, your bullshit, or whatever the hell this thing you are is, but if you dare to hurt her in any way, I’ll fucking rip you apart, you hear me?”

He meant it, and I believed him.

Natalie grabbed the back of his jacket, “Nikolas, leave him. Nothing happened. Let’s just go, please,” She tried to pull him off my case, and my eyes didn’t leave her as her previous words started to sink in, one by one.

Nikolas didn’t let go immediately. He stared at me like he was trying to decide whether I deserved to keep breathing or not.

Finally, he let me go, practically shoving me, this fucker.

My back hit the tree, the bark biting into my shoulders, but I didn’t even look at him, didn’t react, didn’t care.

Natalie latched onto his arm and forcefully dragged him toward the car like she was afraid he’d turn back and do something irreversible. He threw me one last warning look over his shoulder, his jaw ticking, a promise written clear across his face, before getting in.

The engine roared to life, and then they were gone in an instant.

I went back inside and waited while the mess in my driveway was cleaned up. I didn’t bother thinking of who they were or who sent them. My brain refused to latch onto it. I’d deal with the old man later.

Right now, my brain clung to something else entirely.

I paced the hallway, restless and wired, like my skin didn’t fit right anymore.

Before I could think too deeply about why, I grabbed my keys and left.

I drove there, parked a little distance away from their house, and waited. I checked my phone, checked the time, and counted the seconds till it finally happened.

The door opened, and Nikolas stepped out, phone pressed to his ear, speaking to someone as he walked to his car. He got in and not long after, drove off.

I waited another minute, maybe two, then I got out. I walked up to the house, stood at the door, and rang the bell.

Footsteps echoed closer before the door opened, “Nik, did you forge—” Natalie’s words died the second her eyes landed on me.

She blinked in shock, her fingers curling tight around the door like she might slam it in my face if needed, “What do you want?”

My jaw ticked. My chest felt too tight, too loud.

“You can’t do this,” I muttered, the words scraping out of me. I wanted to fucking scream at her.

Her brows pulled together, her grip loosening just slightly, and before she could shut me out, I added, “You just…can’t.”

My hand curled into a fist at my side, and I shook my head, “You can’t walk away from me again.”

“Again?” She whispered.

I nodded, “Yeah, again, because you did.” My voice was rough now, stripped of its usual bite, “You can’t say you didn’t hurt me, because you did,” I said, “because I never knew what having a mother felt like, but that little kid who spent a few months with you? He got a taste of it, just enough to know what it was, just enough for it to be ripped away from him, so yeah, Natalie, I had to blame someone, I was a kid, I didn’t know who to blame, so I blamed you.”

Her lips parted, like she wanted to say something, but no words made it out.

“You said I that I don’t know what that pain feels like, believe me, I do,” I nodded, “All those years ago, on that day, you only lost a brother, but I lost everything,” I echoed back her words, “Do you know what that feels like?”

I shook my head, “You don’t, you moved on, life continued for you, it didn’t for me.”

“Nath—”

“You don’t know half the things that I went through, you have no idea,” I cut in, those memories were sealed, filed, buried deep…they scraped at the inside of my skull, begging to be let out and punishing me for it.

“You don’t know what they did to me, you don’t know how helpless, how terrified, how alone I was. I had no one, imagine, I had no one to the point that I went around looking for Christian just because…just because I needed someone, just anyone, so I wouldn’t give up.”

Tears welled up in her eyes, they shone under the porch’s flickering lights. She kept silent, and she allowed me to talk this time, all these words exploding out of me…for some fucking reason.

“That’s how I grew up, Natalie, I grew up blaming you, I grew up hating you, so now it’s easier to keep hating you, or else…” The rest of my words jammed up in my throat, choking me from the inside.

I shook my head, furious, at myself, at her, at whatever this was.

“I want to keep…hating you, it’s much simpler, but…” I shook my head, the whole alphabet failing me. Words were my thing, but now they abandoned me, unable to form, unable to translate my thoughts the right way.

“But…I don’t,” I whispered.

The words felt illegal, like treason against every version of myself that survived by hating her.

My jaw worked, grinding teeth against teeth, that burn igniting in my chest again, scorching deep, spreading fast, flooding my veins like a warning siren.

I shook my head, “So, I won’t let you leave me again.”

Tears slipped down her cheeks. Her brows drew together, pain folding her in on herself, and then, slowly, almost too carefully, like she was afraid I might disappear if she moved fast, she stepped closer.

Her breath hitched as she reached up. Her arms wrapped around me, and she pulled me in, her grip tightening like she was trying to shield something fragile inside me from a past that had already done its damage.

Her face pressed into my shoulder as one hand slid into my hair, fingers threading through it, holding me like she could…protect me if she held on tightly enough.

For a second, I didn’t know what to do.

Something inside me cracked, quietly fracturing. My hands moved on their own accord, slow and uncertain, like they didn’t trust this either. Then they settled against her back and pulled her closer.

I hugged her back.

My eyelids slipped shut.

Just like that, I wasn’t the man who survived by burning everything he touched.

I was just a…kid again.

The one who used to imagine she’d find him, that she’d come back for him, she’d be the big sister he needed, the mother-shaped absence he’d spent a lifetime trying to cauterize with rage.

I buried my face into her shoulder, breathing her in, and for the first time since I’d come back into her life, I let my guard drop.

Just a little, just enough to feel it hurt.

Memories flashed behind my closed lids like a film I never asked to watch, scenes stitched together without mercy, of me crying until my throat burned, me breaking apart with no one there to gather the pieces, the first time they locked me in and left me with nothing but fear and pain.

It swallowed the rage, overrode instinct, and stripped me down to the thing underneath everything I’d built to survive.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, the words tearing their way out of me. “I’m so…so sorry.”

Her arms tightened around me, like she understood all of it without needing the words. Like she could read the things I never learned how to name. Like she could feel every fracture, every loss, every broken version of me I didn’t know how to mourn.

“I am so sorry, too,” She mumbled, her words hoarse, choked with tears, “I should’ve looked for you, I should’ve found you…I should’ve protected you.”

I shook my head.

I no longer held onto that years-old grudge. I finally let it go.

It wasn’t really her fault, after all.

There was only one name to carve this blame into.

He was dead, and sometimes that felt like mercy he never earned.

⊹˚₊‧─────────────────────‧₊˚⊹

Author’s note:

Hello!

I know this chapter didn’t have Nathan-Aylin moments, but it is an important filler chapter in order to move a step forward and into the next part.

Don’t worry, i’ll make it up to you in the next chapter 😉

See ya soon 🩶