7. Lula
7
LULA
I ’ll always remember him as the man who saved me. He tells me his name is Kanyan, but I like to think of him as my hero.
He forces himself to sit, lowering onto the edge of the armchair in the corner. The tension in the room hangs heavy, but he stays quiet, letting the silence stretch until I finally speak.
“I learned pretty quickly in life that no one’s going to save you. If you want to survive, you have to fight for yourself.”
I turn away, my fingers trailing over the edge of the nightstand. “Dance was the only thing that made sense. The only thing that gave me control. I’ve spent my whole life dancing, perfecting my equilibrium, finding my balance. It’s all about discipline.”
“You’re good at what you do,” he says.
I know I am.
“ I bled for my art. I clawed my way out of nothing to build something for myself.”
“I can protect you,” he says, his voice steady. “You don’t have to do this alone.”
I shake my head, a bitter smile tugging at my lips. “You think I haven’t heard that before? Promises are easy. Trusting someone is the hard part.”
“I’m not a man that cannot be trusted, Lula,” he says, standing and crossing the room until he’s inches away from me. All I can think is that he knows my name and how sweet it sounds on his tongue. “I can protect you. You don’t have to trust me, but you will be safe.”
My eyes search his, my walls still firmly in place. “You can’t promise that,” I whisper.
He asks for my phone and programs his number into it. “The name is Kanyan,” he says. “If you ever need me—if he shows up again, if anything happens—you call. No questions, no hesitation.”
I hesitate, my fingers hovering over the phone before finally taking it. My hands are trembling as I look down at the number, then back up at him.
“I don’t need saving,” I say, and I don’t even know if I’m actually convinced of that myself.
“Good,” he replies, meeting my gaze. “Because I don’t save people. I annihilate.”
Kanyan.
The name rolls off my tongue like a mantra.
He’s impossible to ignore. His sheer size alone makes him stand out, his broad shoulders filling the doorway like he was made to take up space. The suit he wears isn’t just tailored—it’s a second skin, perfectly cut to his powerful frame, the dark fabric somehow making him look even more imposing.
His hair, dark and neatly styled, gleams faintly under the light, not a strand out of place. But it’s his eyes that pin me in place—deep pools of shadow, intense and unrelenting, as if they can peel back the layers I’ve spent years hiding beneath. They’re the kind of eyes that don’t just look; they see . And right now, they’re on me. Watching. Weighing. Waiting.
Even standing still, he feels like a force, someone who could move mountains if he decided they were in his way. The air around him seems heavier, charged, like it knows what he’s capable of. And when he shifts slightly, just enough for the light to catch on the expensive silver watch at his wrist, I realize everything about him is deliberate, controlled. He’s not just a man. He’s a storm waiting to happen.
There’s something dangerous about him, but it’s not the kind of danger that makes me shrink back. It’s the kind that makes me wonder if, for once, someone might be strong enough to stand between me and the chaos that’s been chasing me.
But I know better than to hope. I’ve been hoping for years now, and look where it’s gotten me—running from city to city, gig to gig, trying to outrun a nightmare with no end.
I want to believe Kanyan can protect me. He’s already stepped in more than once, appearing like some knight from the shadows. But knights don’t wear tailored suits, and I’ve learned the hard way that no one saves you for free. The only person who’s kept me alive this long is me. And even that’s barely holding.
I glance around the hotel room, my small suitcase half-packed on the bed. Running again. It feels like the only thing I know how to do. But the truth is, I’m so tired of running. So damn exhausted. And I kind of like it here. The people in this city are nice. My routine’s taking off. Although I’m probably out of a job now, judging by the way Yolanda almost throttled me through the phone when I cancelled tonight’s performance. What was I supposed to tell her? Sorry, I can’t perform tonight on account of a bruised cheek and scattered nerves that may result in me falling off the wire to my death? Like, what the fudge?
The bruise beneath my eye throbs faintly as if reminding me it’s still there, still raw. I touch the edge of it with my fingertips, hating the reminder of how easily Derin found me. How easily he always finds me. Just thinking his name sends a shiver down my spine, and the phantom ache of his last attack creeps up on me.
I’m a fool to think I can escape him. Derin’s obsession isn’t normal—it’s twisted, possessive, and relentless. The kind of thing that doesn’t just stop. And now, after two years of hiding, I’ve brought someone else into it. Kanyan doesn’t know what kind of monster he’s dealing with, and I can’t be the one to drag him into that darkness. I already have too much blood on my hands.
My phone buzzes, the sound slicing through the quiet. For a moment, I freeze, a tiny flicker of excitement sparking in my chest. I don’t have friends here; no one texts me. Maybe it’s Kanyan. But that’s ridiculous—he doesn’t have my number.
I swipe the screen, and the message waiting for me sends my heart plummeting.
"I’ve booked the priest; be ready to be my wife by the weekend."
Hell, no.
My breath catches in my throat, and my stomach turns to ice. The words are simple, but they’re a noose tightening around my neck. Marriage. To Derin. The ultimate trap.
My fingers tremble as I grip the phone, and I can feel the panic starting to bubble beneath the surface. No. No. This isn’t happening. I won’t let it happen. He doesn’t get to control me like this. Not again.
I stare at the message, the weight of it crushing me. He always knows where I am, what I’m doing. He’s always one step ahead, like a shadow I can never outrun. And now he wants to seal my fate. Bind me to him forever.
My eyes sting with unshed tears, and my shoulders sag as the exhaustion catches up with me. My reflection in the window stares back, broken and weary. But there’s a spark in my chest, something that refuses to give in. If I let him win, there won’t be any fight left in me.
I can’t do this alone. But trusting someone like Kanyan? Someone with danger written all over him? That’s a risk I’m not sure I can take.
Still, as I pace the room, the thought creeps in. Maybe this time, I don’t have to fight alone. Maybe this storm of a man isn’t just a threat to my chaos—but the answer to it.