12. Kanyan
12
KANYAN
W hen I step into the apartment, the faint sound of music drifts toward me. It’s not loud, but there’s an energy to it—an intensity—that pulls me toward the gym. I’ve been away all day, dealing with a particularly stubborn situation involving one of the Moreno family’s rivals, and I should be thinking about strategies, alliances, or the mess I left behind. Instead, I find myself following the music.
The sight that greets me when I push open the gym door stops me cold.
Lula is on the tightrope, her body moving with a grace I didn’t know was possible. She’s wearing leggings and a fitted top, her brown hair pulled into a loose ponytail that sways as she moves. Her arms stretch out for balance, her steps light and deliberate. The mats I insisted on are spread beneath her, but she doesn’t look like she needs them. She looks... untouchable, like she belongs in the air more than on solid ground.
I feel like I have my own private dancer, and I can’t stop staring at her as she gracefully crosses the room.
I lean against the doorframe, watching her. The music swells, and she turns on the rope, her foot arcing behind her in a way that makes it look easy. But I know it’s not. Every movement is calculated, every muscle under her control. The way she moves on the wire is mesmerizing.
For a moment, I forget everything—why she’s here, what I promised to protect her from. All I can see is her.
She doesn’t notice me at first, too caught up in her routine. But when the music fades, she glances toward the door and freezes mid-step. Her foot wavers on the rope, but her toes curl around the wire to steady herself.
“You’re home,” she says, her voice carrying across the room.
Home. The way the word rolls off her tongue gives it a whole new meaning.
“Yeah,” I reply, straightening. My tone comes out rougher than I intend, but I can’t help it. Watching her just now... it did something to me.
She climbs down, her feet hitting the mat with a soft thud, and grabs a towel to wipe her face. There’s a flush in her cheeks, and I can’t tell if it’s from exertion or something else.
“I didn’t think you’d be back this early,” she says, looking at me with something I can’t quite name.
“Traffic was light,” I lie. The truth is, I pushed through my day faster than usual. I couldn’t stop thinking about her. About what she told me last night. About Derin and how I’m going to strangle the life out of him once my men track him down.
Her eyes flick to the tightrope, and she shifts her weight from one foot to the other. “Thanks for this,” she says, nodding toward it. “I didn’t expect...” She trails off, her fingers gripping the towel tightly.
“You didn’t expect what?”
Her lips press together for a moment before she shrugs. “You to go out of your way like this. I don’t know. It was just... thoughtful.”
The gratitude in her voice makes something twist in my chest. I shove my hands into my pockets, trying to ignore the feeling. She seems so alone in this world, and I wonder if anyone has ever done something nice for her. “You needed a place to practice. It’s not a big deal.”
She snorts softly, like she doesn’t believe me, and turns her attention back to the rope. “It’s a bigger deal than you think.”
I step further into the room, closing the distance between us. “Why’s that?”
She hesitates, her eyes flicking to mine. “It’s the first time in a while that I’ve felt... normal. Like I can breathe without looking over my shoulder.”
Her words hit me harder than they should. I want to tell her that she’ll feel that way all the time now, that I won’t let anything happen to her. But I know better than to make promises I might not be able to keep. Especially if she decides to leave. I can’t protect her if she decides to walk away from my protection.
Instead, I nod toward the rope. “You’re good at this.”
Her lips curve into a small smile. “I’ve been doing it all my life. It’s not just a hobby. It’s... it’s who I am.”
There’s a weight to her words that I can’t ignore. “And Derin’s trying to take that from you.” The minute the words are out of my mouth, I regret them. The mention of his name makes her smile disappear, and the tension I’ve come to recognize settles over her shoulders. She doesn’t answer, but she doesn’t have to.
I step closer, my voice dropping. “Did he hurt you?”
Her head snaps up, her eyes locking with mine. For a moment, she doesn’t say anything. Then she shakes her head, but it’s quick, almost too quick. “Not the way you’re thinking.”
The way her voice wavers sets me on edge. “What does that mean, Lula?”
She pulls the towel tighter around her shoulders, her gaze dropping to the floor. “It means he didn’t lay a hand on me, but he made it clear he could if he wanted to.”
The rage that simmers inside me threatens to boil over. I clench my fists, forcing myself to stay calm. “He’s going to stop now, Lula. I’ve made it clear to him he has no business with you.”
She shrugs, her expression guarded. “I don’t think he’ll ever stop. Men like him don’t know how to.”
Her words are like a challenge, daring me to prove her wrong. I take a step closer, closing the gap between us. “Then it’s a good thing he’s not dealing with you anymore. He’s dealing with me.”
She looks up at me, and for a second, I see hope flicker in her eyes. But it’s gone as quickly as it came. She steps back, putting space between us. “I appreciate what you’re doing, Kanyan. But Derin doesn’t scare easily. You should know that.”
I smirk, though there’s no humor in it. “Neither do I.”
The air between us crackles, charged with something I can’t name. She holds my gaze for a moment longer before turning back to the tightrope.
“Good,” she says, her voice soft but firm. “Maybe you will be enough to finally scare him off.”
I watch her climb back onto the rope, her movements deliberate and sure. She doesn’t look back at me, but I don’t need her to. I see it in the way she balances, in the determination etched into her every step.
Lula might think she’s running from Derin, but I can see it now—she’s fighting too. And her fight just became mine.
The call comes just before midnight, jolting me out of the restless haze I’ve been sitting in. My phone buzzes with urgency, and I already know it’s bad before I even hear the voice on the other end. Mason’s words are clipped and tense. Someone’s hit our holding facility.
I’m halfway into my coat when I hear the soft shuffle of feet behind me. Turning, I see Lula emerge from her room, clutching a robe tight around her. Her eyes are heavy with sleep, her hair loose and messy, but her expression is sharp, concerned.
“What’s going on?” she asks, her voice husky from waking. Her eyes lock on my face, no doubt taking in the storm brewing there.
“Problem at work,” I mutter, brushing her off as I head to the front door.
Her frown deepens, and she steps into my path. “Can I help?”
I stop short, the question catching me off guard. She’s serious—her wide, blue eyes searching mine for an answer. For a second, I almost laugh at the idea of her helping me deal with this mess. But the sincerity in her voice pulls at something inside me, something I don’t have time to unpack right now.
“You can help by staying here and staying put,” I say, forcing the words to to come out steady, even though my nerves are fraying. “I’ll be back soon.”
Her lips part, like she wants to argue, but she presses them together and nods. I don’t wait to see if she’s going to push back; I’m already moving.
I gun my car through the gates, the tires screeching as I take the corner too fast. My mind races ahead of me, trying to piece together how the hell this could’ve happened. The storage facility is supposed to be untouchable. Only family knows about it. Only family has access.
By the time I pull up, Mason and Jayson are already there, their expressions grim under the harsh fluorescent lights. The air reeks of diesel and darkness, but there’s an emptiness to the place that chills me more than the night air.
“They got everything,” Mason says, his voice heavy as he runs a hand down his face.
“Anything left?” I ask, though I know the answer before the words even leave my mouth. Looters don’t leave scraps.
“It’s all gone,” Jayson confirms, his tone flat, resigned.
I step into the storage unit, my boots crunching on the cement floor. The place looks stripped bare, like a carcass picked clean. Dust outlines where crates used to sit, the empty spaces taunting me. My jaw tightens, and my hands curl into fists. I want to throw something, punch something—anything to release the pressure building inside me. But I can’t. Not here. Not in front of my men, who are looking to me, and I can’t afford to lose control.
“Cameras?” I ask, my voice cutting through the heavy silence.
Mason grunts, his frustration boiling over as he kicks the wall hard enough to leave a dent. “Tampered with. They wiped everything.”
I let out a slow breath, trying to keep the anger at bay. “We never have nothing,” I say, more to myself than to them. “This was an inside job,” I continue, turning to face them. “Whoever did this knew exactly where to hit and knew it would hurt.”
Mason nods, his jaw clenched tight. “So, who?”
“That’s what we’re going to find out.” My voice is low, steady, but the weight of the situation bears down on me. Two million dollars’ worth of weapons, gone. And worse, they’re in someone else’s hands now. The kind of weapons that could do some real damage.
As more men arrive, the place buzzes with activity. They’re combing through every inch of the facility, looking for anything—a missed clue, a footprint, a slip-up. But I know better than to hope for an easy answer. Whoever did this wasn’t sloppy.
Jayson steps up beside me, his expression cautious. “What do you need me to do, Kanyan?”
I don’t answer right away, my mind already working through the possibilities. “Start with our own first. Discreetly. Someone had to leak this.”
Jayson’s face darkens at the implication, but he nods. He knows I’m right.
I step back, surveying the empty space one last time. The anger simmers beneath my skin, but I force it down. There’s no time for it now. We’re exposed, and that makes us vulnerable. Whoever hit the facility knew what was in it and came prepared. You don’t move forty crates of armor without a damn good plan and somewhere to store them.