Kanyan (Gatti Enforcers #1)

18. Kanyan

18

KANYAN

F ucking. Moron.

That’s the only thing running through my head as I step under the pounding spray of the shower. The water scalds my skin, but it doesn’t do a damn thing to burn away the mess in my head. My hands grip the tile, muscles flexing under the strain as I lower my head and let the heat wash over me. What the hell was I thinking? How could I have let things go that far?

And Lula—a virgin? Of all the goddamn things I didn’t see coming, that one blindsided me more than the bullet I took to my shoulder. The memory hits me like a sucker punch, her blood staining her thighs, the way she looked at me with those wide, trusting eyes. It makes my stomach churn, a fire of anger sparking in my gut—not at her, but at myself.

I should’ve known. I should’ve stopped. Hell, I should’ve done a million things differently. If I’d known, I would’ve given her something better, something that didn’t involve the cold, unforgiving surface of that goddamn sofa. A sofa I’ll never look at the same way again. It’s burned into my memory now, a sharp reminder of my failures.

The anger bubbling inside me doesn’t just simmer—it boils. But I can’t lie to myself. I won’t sit here and call it a mistake. What happened wasn’t a mistake. It was everything. The way she felt, the way she clung to me, the way she unraveled under my touch—fuck, it was perfect. Too perfect. That’s the problem. I shouldn’t want it again. I shouldn’t want her again. But I do.

My hands tighten on the slick tile as water streams down my face, mixing with the shame that cuts through the haze of desire still clinging to me. Shame because I know better. Shame because I should’ve been stronger, more in control. Because I never lose control. She’s innocent, unblemished. She doesn’t belong in my world, doesn’t belong to the darkness that follows me everywhere I go.

And yet, she’s tangled in it now. Tangled in me . And I don’t know if I can untangle her.

I push off the wall and scrub a hand down my face, water streaming off me in rivulets. My body aches like I’ve been run over by a freight train, and in some ways, I have. The past week has been nothing but chaos—blood, betrayal, and battles I’ve been fighting for so damn long that they feel like second nature. But Lula? Lula is the one thing I didn’t see coming, the one thing I didn’t plan for. She’s so fucking beautiful—inside and out—with all her softness, her sweetness, her hope.

And she wasted all of it on me.

Me.

A monster.

A killer.

A man who doesn’t deserve to touch something as pure as her, let alone ruin her the way I did. I kill without hesitation, leave a trail of bodies in my wake without so much as a flicker of remorse. My world is cold, brutal, and unrelenting. I was made for it, shaped by it. But Lula? She’s sunlight. Warmth. And I’ve dragged her into the dark without a second thought.

My jaw clenches, my hands curling into fists as the water turns cold, but I don’t move. I let it sting. I let it remind me of who I am, what I’ve done. The truth is, I can’t undo it. And if I’m honest with myself—a luxury I rarely indulge—I wouldn’t undo it even if I could. Because for those moments with her, I felt alive in a way I haven’t felt in years. Maybe ever.

But that doesn’t make it right. It doesn’t erase the fact that I’ve taken something from her that she’ll never get back. That I let her step into my shadows when I should’ve pushed her away.

I shut off the water with a violent twist of the knob, my movements sharp and precise as I grab a towel and wrap it around my waist. My reflection stares back at me in the fogged-up mirror, a ghost of the man I used to be, if I was ever a man at all. I know what I see—a predator. A weapon. A protector who failed the one person he should’ve been protecting most.

But it doesn’t matter what I think. What matters is Lula. What matters is making sure she doesn’t regret what happened, even if it means she has to hate me for it. Even if it means I have to let her go.

Because if there’s one thing I know, it’s this—I’m the monster at the end of her story. And I’ll destroy myself before I let that monster destroy her.

Mason leans back in his chair, smirking like he knows too much. "I’m sensing a little tension," he says casually, grabbing a croissant from the tray in front of him.

The guy doesn’t know when to quit. He knows damn well I don’t want him bringing pastries to my house. Carbs are my kryptonite, and he does this every time he shows up.

"You know that stuff will kill you, right?" I mutter, nodding toward the croissant in his hand.

He shrugs, then smirks at the pastry on my plate, his sharp eyes mocking me.

"So... back to the tension." His eyes flick between me and Lula like he’s reading a scene he wrote himself.

Lula is picking at her food like she’s a bird trying not to peck too hard. She won’t meet my gaze, and I’m trying like hell not to look at her either. It’s a standoff we’ve been locked in since yesterday, and Mason, as usual, is enjoying the show.

"There’s no tension," I snap, dragging the conversation back on track. "Where are we on the relocation?"

Mason straightens, sensing my shift in tone. "I’ve done a sweep of the Moreno estate. It’s clean. Cars are ready whenever you are."

Across the table, Lula suddenly freezes, her head snapping up like she’s just tuned in. For the first time today, she looks invested.

"You’re moving?" she asks, her voice too calm to be neutral.

Her eyes hold questions she’s not asking aloud, and I can feel the gears turning in her head. I sit back in my chair, bracing for whatever’s about to come out of her mouth.

"We’re going to stay somewhere else for a few days," I say, keeping my tone even.

She sets her fork down slowly, the movement deliberate. She folds her napkin and places it on the table, her fingers tense. There’s hesitation in her eyes, but when she speaks, her voice is steady.

"This might be a good time for me to find somewhere else to stay," she says. I wonder if she thinks what happened between us is the reason for the move.

Every word cuts like she’s testing the air between us, waiting for me to respond. But her voice betrays her. She doesn’t want to leave. She’s saying it because she thinks it’s the right thing to do, not because she means it. Maybe she even thinks I want her to go and she’s giving me an easy way out.

"You’re coming with me, Lula," I say firmly. "It’s just a security measure."

Her chin lifts, defiance blazing in her eyes. "I really think I should just leave. You said I could leave anytime."

I see Mason’s head shift, his gaze darting between us like he’s watching a match heat up.

"I did say that" I admit, trying to keep my temper in check, "but I don’t recommend it. It’s not safe."

"That’s my decision to make," she snaps, her voice harder now.

My jaw tightens, the tension coiling in my chest. Is this about yesterday? About what I said? Did I push her too far, telling her she deserved better? Would she seriously risk her life just to prove a point?

"We’ll talk about this later," I growl, low and final.

But Lula doesn’t back down. Her anger rises, lighting her eyes with that fierce spark that’s as frustrating as it is captivating.

"No," she says, her voice sharp. "We’ll talk about it now."

I glance at Mason, who’s still lounging at the table, his smirk replaced with a cautious expression. He knows he’s the one who stirred the pot, and now he’s watching the steam rise.

When I don’t respond, Lula pushes her chair back, standing so fast her napkin slides to the floor. "Thank you for the pastries," she says to Mason, her tone icy. Then, she flicks her gaze to me, her expression unreadable. "I’ll be in my room. Packing ."

She leaves before I can say another word, her footsteps quick and determined.

I stay seated for a moment, my fists clenched on the table. Mason doesn’t say a word this time, probably because he knows I’m two seconds away from snapping.

"Get out," I mutter, standing abruptly.

Mason raises his hands in surrender, grabs another pastry, and leaves without protest.

I don’t waste time. I’m already moving toward her room before I’ve even made the decision.

Her door isn’t locked. I push it open, stepping inside without knocking.

Lula whirls around, a pile of clothes clutched to her chest. Her eyes narrow as they fall on me. "What do you want?"

"We’re not done talking," I say, shutting the door behind me.

"There’s nothing to talk about," she snaps, throwing the clothes into her suitcase.

"You’re not leaving," I growl, stepping closer.

"You don’t get to make that decision for me," she fires back, her voice rising.

My patience snaps. I close the distance between us in two strides, grabbing her wrist before she can turn away. Her breath hitches, her pulse hammering under my fingers.

"I told you," I say, my voice low and dangerous. "It’s not safe out there. You’re staying with me. End of discussion."

Her eyes flash, anger and something else—something darker, more electric—sparking between us.

"You said I’m not a prisoner,” she whispers, her voice trembling, “yet now you’re treating me like one.”

"I don’t want you to leave," I say, stepping closer, close enough that I can feel the heat of her body.

Her defiance falters, just for a second, and I see the shift in her eyes. The anger softens, replaced by something raw, something that mirrors the storm raging inside me.

"Kanyan," she whispers, my name a plea and a challenge all at once.

I don’t let myself think. Thinking is dangerous right now. Instead, I close the distance, my hand sliding to her waist, pulling her against me.

The chemistry ignites, the air between us crackling as her lips part, her breath warm against my skin. And when our mouths collide, it’s not soft or gentle. It’s fire and fury, desperation and need, a clash of wills that neither of us wants to end.

She presses against me, her hands fisting in my shirt, pulling me closer. It’s chaos and clarity all at once, and for a moment, I let myself forget everything else.

But only for a moment. Because I know we can’t stay trapped in this moment forever as the world closes in around us. Still, as her lips move against mine, her fingers digging into my chest, I can’t bring myself to pull away from her.