22. Kanyan
22
KANYAN
T he cool night air hits my face as I carry Lula back to the house. Her weight feels light against me, but the heaviness in her trembling form makes my chest ache. Her arms clutch her torn blouse close to her chest, and I can feel the rapid beat of her heart against my side. She doesn’t speak, and I don’t press her. What she needs right now isn’t words—it’s safety.
Behind me, Mason drags the traitor like a sack of garbage, his grip firm on the man’s collar. The traitor’s feet scrape through the dirt, leaving uneven tracks across the manicured lawn. Mason is silent, but his movements are precise, each one filled with simmering rage. When we reach the house, he flings the man to the ground without ceremony and delivers a vicious kick to his ribs.
“Secure him,” Mason orders to the men standing nearby, his tone cold and clipped.
I push open the door and step inside, placing Lula gently on the plush sofa in the living room. She shrinks into herself, clutching her blouse tighter, her eyes wide and distant. I crouch beside her, smoothing a hand over her damp hair, hoping the gesture will calm her. “You’re safe now,” I tell her softly. “He can’t hurt you anymore.”
Her lips tremble, but she nods. “There’ll always be someone,” she whispers, her voice barely audible.
“Go shower, Lula.” She nods and I help her to her feet. She stands slowly, her movements stiff and hesitant, as if the very act of walking takes every ounce of effort she has left. “I’ll be up shortly,” I assure her, watching as she shuffles toward the stairs, clutching her shirt as if it’s the only thing holding her together.
Once she disappears, I turn on my heel and head back outside. The air feels heavier now, laced with tension and fury. In the garden, the traitor is strung up by his wrists from a sturdy tree branch. His body twists slightly in the breeze, and his groans of pain punctuate the night. Mason stands nearby, leaning casually against a baseball bat, as if this is just another routine interrogation.
The sight of the man—the one who dared to touch Lula—sends a rush of rage surging through me. Without thinking, I march over, snatch the bat from Mason’s hands, and swing with every ounce of strength I can muster. The crack of wood meeting bone echoes in the stillness as the bat slams into the traitor’s knees. He screams, his legs jerking involuntarily, but the rope keeps him upright.
“That’s for daring to walk where you don’t belong,” I snarl, gripping the bat tightly as I glare at him. His body twists again, his face pale and slick with sweat. He doesn’t look so smug now.
Mason crosses his arms, his expression hard as stone. Jayson appears at his side, his presence solid and dependable. “Who sent you?” I demand, my voice low and cutting.
The traitor spits out a laugh, weak and breathless. “You’re going to kill me anyway,” he sneers, though his bravado wavers under my glare.
“Of course we are,” I say matter-of-factly, my voice colder than ice. “You know how this goes. But the difference is whether your family suffers after you’re gone. Maybe I’ll start with your kids. Maybe I’ll livestream taking my frustration out on them before you meet your maker.” I lean in closer, my words sharp and deliberate. “Do you really want that?”
His defiance crumbles. Panic flashes across his face, and he swallows hard. “Don’t touch my kids.”
“The choice is yours. I’ve always been pro-choice myself,” I say, preparing another swing of the bat.
“Don’t hurt my kids!”
“Then talk,” I growl, stepping back just enough to let him catch his breath. “Who do you work for?”
He hesitates for a moment, his lips pressed into a thin line. But when I lift the bat again, he breaks. “Altin Kadri,” he blurts out, his voice shaking.
My grip on the bat tightens. “Did he take my weapons?”
The traitor nods, and I feel my blood boil. “And the port?” I press, my tone sharp. “Who nuked my ship?”
“Also Altin,” he admits, his words tumbling out in a rush. “It was a distraction... to get to the girl.”
I feel the ground shift beneath me. “You were going to hand her over to him?” My voice is low and dangerous, but the fury behind it is unmistakable. “Why?”
“He... he knows she’s your weakness,” the man stammers. “He’s trying to make you vulnerable. To weaken your hold so he can move in.”
My jaw clenches. Rage surges through my blood. “And how does he know that?”
The traitor hesitates again, his fear palpable. “His cousin... Derin Kadri. Man went out of his mind when he realized she was with you. Asked for his cousin’s help.”
I take a step back, my mind racing. Derin. The name cuts through me like a blade. The same man who harassed Lula, the same man I pulled her away from. And now his cousin is after me, after her, using her as leverage to dismantle everything I’m trying to rebuild. The pieces click into place, and I realize this isn’t just about weapons or money. They’ve made it personal.
I turn to Jayson, who’s been standing silently, absorbing every word. “Round up the men,” I say, my voice firm. “I want everyone here, now.”
Jayson nods and moves quickly, barking orders to the others. I turn to Mason, who’s watching me closely. “I need a new security team. One that’s untouchable. We’re purging the old guard. Tonight.”
“Consider it done,” Mason replies, his tone steady.
As men start to gather in the garden, I take one last look at the traitor swinging from the tree. His head hangs low, his body limp, but I know he’s still conscious. “Tonight,” I mutter under my breath, “we take back our city.”
I stride away from the scene, the weight of the night pressing heavily on my shoulders. There’s no time to rest, no time to hesitate. The battle has already begun, and I won’t stop until every threat to our city is eliminated. Starting with Altin Kadri.
Lula’s voice trembles, barely above a whisper. “What will you do with him?” Her gaze is glued to the window, to the man dangling from the tree outside. Even from here, I can see her hands trembling, clutching the hem of her oversized sweater.
I’d told her to stay upstairs. Pleaded, even. But she never listens when she thinks she’s right. Barefoot and stubborn, she’d crept down the stairs, drawn to the tension like a moth to a flame. Now she’s standing in my living room, face pale, eyes wide with something that looks a lot like betrayal.
“I told you not to come downstairs,” I say, the edge in my voice sharper than I intend.
She doesn’t flinch, though. Lula never flinches. Instead, she waves a hand toward the window, toward him. “Look at him,” she says, her voice cracking, but her eyes fierce. “He’s barely alive, Kanyan.”
Her gaze shifts to mine, imploring, demanding—but for what? Mercy? I don’t know why she’d care about someone who would’ve delivered her straight to death’s door. Someone who would’ve taken her from me. Maybe it’s just who she is. Lula wouldn’t hurt a fly if it was biting her.
“Lula...”
“No. Don’t Lula me,” she snaps, her voice suddenly stronger, fiercer. “He’s already half dead. How can you just stand there and let this happen?”
I cross the room in two steps, closing the distance between us. My hands find her arms, holding her gently but firmly, forcing her to look at me.
“Lula,” I say, my voice low, steady. “That man… He was taking you to Derin.”
Her head shakes, slow at first, then faster, as if she can deny the truth into nonexistence. “No,” she whispers, her voice hollow. “That’s not… He’s one of your guards.”
“Not mine,” I say. “I inherited him. He’s a traitor, Lula. Working for Altin Kadri. You know that name, don’t you?”
She looks at me like I’ve just started speaking a foreign language. Of course she doesn’t know. She’s not from this world. She doesn’t understand what people like Kadri are capable of. What I’m capable of.
I take a breath, trying to calm the storm building between us. “Altin Kadri is Derin’s cousin. He’s been circling my territory, trying to stake a claim. Derin’s working with him now. He thought he could use you to get to me.” My hands tighten on her arms, but not hard. “These are not good men, Lula.”
Her eyes narrow, shimmering with tears she refuses to shed. “Are you?” she whispers. “Are you a good man, Kanyan?”
For some reason, the question cuts deeper than if she’d driven a blade through my heart. For the first time, I see doubt in her eyes. Not fear, but doubt. She’s questioning everything now—who I am, what I am. And why wouldn’t she? Since she stumbled into my world, I’ve been drowning in chaos. A missing arms shipment. A bullet wound in my shoulder. My port blown to hell. And now this. A man swinging from a tree in my garden like some medieval warning sign.
“Do you understand the magnitude of what could have happened to you today, Lula?” I demand, my voice rough, desperate. It kills me to think what could have happened if she’d been dragged off the premises. “I’m trying to protect you!”
Her tears spill over, finally breaking free. But she doesn’t look away. She doesn’t back down. “Protect me? This is how you protect me? By staining my soul with the blood of another?” she asks, her voice trembling.
I let go of her arms and step back, the weight of her words pressing down on me like lead. She may never understand the measures one has to take to protect what is theirs, and I don’t know how to make her see my point.
She’s trembling now, her eyes flickering back to the window. To him. To the question hanging between us. Her lips part, barely moving as she repeats herself, soft but unwavering.
“What will you do with him?”
The storm inside me crashes into the calm of her voice. I glance out the window at the man swaying in the wind, and then back at her. My jaw tightens.
“I’ll do what has to be done to keep you safe,” I say, my voice like steel. And as the words hang in the air, the first crack of thunder rolls in the distance, shaking the ground beneath us.