Chapter 7 #2
Another slam echoes—closer this time. Then footsteps. Faster now. They’re zeroing in. Just took them longer than I expected.
This room is hidden. Discreet. And I made it that way for a reason. But even the best-designed secrets are temporary when the people looking know what they’re chasing.
The door finally swings open. Ash is the first one in. Gun drawn. Eyes sharp. Focused directly on me.
Kellan is half a second behind him, mirroring the movement.
Two barrels aimed at my chest. I don’t move. I don’t blink. I let them look. Let them see.
Me. The girl asleep on my couch. My hand resting loosely on the glass beside me. No weapons drawn. No threat offered. Just stillness. And the flicker of firelight dancing between us.
“About time,” I say quietly. “You left her with me for what, an hour? I expected you twenty minutes ago.”
Neither of them responds. Ash’s jaw ticks once. Kellan doesn’t flinch.
“Put the guns down,” I say calmly, gesturing toward the floor. “She’s fine. She’s not hurt. She’s not yours, but she’s not mine either. At least not yet.”
“You drugged her,” Kellan growls. Low. Dangerous.
“A sleeping pill,” I confirm, rising slowly to my feet. I don’t make a move toward them. “Non-lethal. Harmless. She’ll wake up in twenty. No side effects. No pain.”
“That wasn’t your call.”
“She made hers when she slipped a vitamin into my drink and told me it was poison.”
Ash’s expression flickers. He wasn’t expecting that.
“She was testing me,” I continue, stepping around the armchair but keeping my distance. “So I tested her back. Balance. That’s all it is.”
“That’s not balance,” Kellan snaps. “That’s playing god.”
“No. That’s knowing who I’m dealing with.”
Neither of them lowers their weapon. But I watch the thoughts behind their eyes begin to shift. It’s subtle. But it’s there.
“She’s not your property,” Ash says, his tone colder than the steel in his hands. “She’s not part of your Bratva. You don’t get to treat her like a pawn.”
“No,” I agree. “But she’s not just yours anymore either. She chose to step into my world. Which means she plays by my rules. And so do you.”
“Bullshit,” Kellan says. “We don’t belong to anyone.”
“I don’t want you to. But I do expect you to understand something.”
I take another step forward. Not aggressive. Just enough to make the message clear.
“You’re in my city. My house. You walked through my doors with guns drawn. And I haven’t killed you yet. That’s not weakness. That’s restraint.”
A long, tense pause hangs between us. Isabella shifts again on the couch behind me and their eyes flick to her. Just for a second. And I see it—How much they care. How much they’re willing to burn for her.
That kind of loyalty?
I respect the hell out of it. Even when it’s pointed at me.
“She’s earned more than you know,” I say softly. “And you think I don’t see that. But I do.”
I take another breath. Let it stretch.
Then speak again, lower this time. “She had me in her scope once.”
That gets them.
Kellan’s stance tightens. Ash’s grip shifts slightly.
“She told me,” I say. “Could’ve pulled the trigger. Didn’t.”
“You expect us to believe you’re okay with that?” Ash bites.
“I expect you to understand that it only made me want her on my side more.”
They don’t move. But something’s cracked in the silence now. The tension’s still there—but it’s not about attack anymore. It’s about what comes next. And none of us have the answer yet.
Not even me.
“We’re not your men,” Kellan says finally. “And she’s not your pawn.”
“Then stop acting like I’m your enemy,” I answer, voice level. “Or I’ll start being one.”
We stand there. Three men. Two guns. One unconscious girl holding the fuse to all of it. And nobody flinches. Because this? This is a new war. And it hasn’t even begun yet.
I study them. Guns still raised, chests still tight with adrenaline and instinct, but I can see the edge of their resolve beginning to fray.
Not from fear. From something far more dangerous— recognition.
They expected a monster. They found a mirror.
Ash’s finger hovers close to the trigger. Kellan hasn’t blinked in thirty seconds. The space between us is filled with smoke, steel, and a kind of tension that hums under the skin.
I could end this in three moves. But I don’t want to. Because the truth is—I respect the hell out of them.
“You know,” I murmur, voice calm, low, “in another life, I’d want men like you on my side.”
Their eyes narrow.
I don’t smile. “You don’t take orders,” I continue. “You don’t run when it gets ugly. You’d rather burn down a house than leave her behind.”
My gaze flicks to Isabella for a heartbeat. Then back. “That kind of loyalty…” I let the silence fill in the rest, “…isn’t weakness. It’s rare.”
Kellan doesn’t lower his gun. But his jaw clenches in something that isn’t defiance. Not quite.
Ash shifts slightly, just enough for me to notice the flicker of something else in his eyes. Not trust. But maybe—tolerance.
“We don’t care what kind of empire you’re running here,” Ash says coldly. “The second she’s not safe?—”
“You’ll kill me,” I finish for him. “I know.”
“No,” Kellan adds, his voice harder. “We’ll destroy everything you’ve built. And we’ll do it slow.”
I tilt my head slightly, letting that threat hang between us. It’s not empty. And I wouldn’t want it to be.
“Good,” I say. “That’s exactly the kind of protection she deserves.”
That throws them. Both of them.
Kellan blinks once. Ash’s grip slackens—barely—but enough for the muzzle of his gun to dip two inches.
“You think this changes anything?” Kellan asks, quieter now.
“No,” I admit. “But it gives us a starting point.”
“For what?” Ash mutters.
“For not getting in each other’s fucking way.”
There’s a silence after that. Long. Unyielding. But not hostile.
I can see it—the grudging way their shoulders ease, the way their hands don’t tremble. These aren’t just men trained to fight. They’re men trained to protect.
They aren’t afraid of me. But they’re starting to understand me. And that’s more important.
“Lower your weapons,” I say finally, not a command—just a statement. They don’t move. Not immediately.
Then Kellan lowers his first. Not all the way—just to his side. Ash follows a second later. A beat behind.
Always the backup. Always watching the angle. Smart.
“She’s not your pawn,” Kellan repeats.
“I never said she was.”
“Then stop treating her like one.”
I nod once. “Only if you stop pretending she’s not playing her own game.”
That hits. Hard.
Because they know. They see it too.
And for the first time, there’s a shift in the air. Not surrender. Not peace. But something that tastes like—respect.
The kind none of us will admit out loud. But it’s there. Heavy. Solid. Settled.
The fire crackles behind me as I walk slowly to the side table and pour myself another drink. The clink of glass against crystal fills the space where our weapons used to speak.
“I assume you’re staying until she wakes,” I say without looking up.
Neither of them answers. But I already know the truth.
I sip once. Let the warmth burn its way down. And listen as the two of them shift—closer to her.
Still guarding. Still watching me like I might snap her neck in her sleep. But they don’t speak. They don’t threaten. And they don’t leave.
We’re still enemies. But now we know what kind.
The fire’s burned low now. Just embers glowing in the hearth, the occasional crackle breaking the silence.
I stand at the bar, one hand wrapped around the glass, letting the heat of the liquor settle in my chest.
Kellan and Ash remain where they are—silent, still, but no longer coiled for attack.
The guns are down. But the war? Still alive in their eyes.
She doesn’t wake. Minutes pass. Long ones. I glance at her again. Still stretched across my couch like a storm asleep. The soft rise and fall of her chest is the only thing betraying that she hasn’t just disappeared into the quiet.
I kept the dose light—enough to lull, not sedate. But she’s still out. And they’re getting restless.
Ash steps forward first. Slow. Measured. His boots make barely a sound against the marble, but I hear them anyway.
He kneels beside her. Touches her shoulder gently, then brushes a knuckle down the side of her face. His expression doesn’t change, but there’s something raw in the way he exhales.
She means something to him. Both of them. And for a second, I wonder what they were before her. And who they’ll become after.
Ash moves like a soldier, like a shadow, slipping one arm under her legs and the other beneath her back. He lifts her in one smooth motion, pressing her against his chest like she weighs nothing at all.
I watch him. Watch the way her head lolls against his shoulder, her hand dangling loose, the hem of her black dress brushing against his thigh.
Kellan watches too, then looks at me. Not a glare. But not thanks either. Just understanding.
The kind that comes when neither man will say it out loud, but they know the ground they’re standing on is no longer the same.
“We’re taking her home,” Kellan says finally.
I take a sip of my drink and nod once. “She’ll wake soon.”
“Then she can wake somewhere that doesn’t smell like your brand of poison.”
I chuckle under my breath but say nothing.
“Your gate guy’s fine,” Ash adds without looking at me. “Unconscious. But breathing.”
“I figured,” I murmur. “I’d be disappointed if he wasn’t.”
They don’t wait for a goodbye. They move toward the door, quiet and sharp. Ash carries her out like she’s the last good thing he’s ever going to hold.
Kellan follows, glancing over his shoulder only once. It’s not a threat. Not this time. It’s a warning. That this isn’t over. That no matter how far I let her in… She still belongs to them.
The door clicks shut behind them. And the silence returns.
But it’s heavier now. The kind that drips down the walls like smoke. The kind that feels like it’s waiting for something. Or someone.
I exhale slowly and move toward the couch, settling into the seat she left behind.
Still warm. Still holding the echo of her presence like she never really left.
My fingers trace the edge of the cushion beside me, mind racing even though my body doesn’t move.
She got to me. And I let her. Let her play her game. Let her think she was winning. Let her close enough to taste control. And I still don’t regret it.
I glance down at the table, at the faint circle her drink left behind. Half-finished. Unrushed. Like she never expected to lose control.
Just like me.
She’ll come back. Not because I ask. Not because I demand. But because she wants to. Because this isn’t about who owns who. It’s about who finishes the game. And she knows as well as I do… The last move hasn’t been played yet.
The silence claws at me again. Not the comfortable kind—the cold kind. The kind that sinks into the bones and makes the ice inside crack.
The room still smells like her. Spiced perfume and smoke. And something wilder beneath it.
I trace the edge of her glass with a fingertip, watching the trail it leaves in the condensation. The pill has long dissolved. A phantom threat turned memory.
And yet she still didn’t wake when she should have.
I know what I gave her. I never miscalculate doses. But she stayed under longer. Too long. And that bothers me.
More than it should.
I pull out my phone and dial. It rings once. Twice.
“Yeah?” Nikolai answers, clipped, half-expecting something explosive.
“She didn’t wake up when she should’ve.”
“How long?”
“Over an hour.”
Another beat of silence.
I hear the click of something metal on his end—probably loading a mag, maybe just his teeth against the edge of a bottlecap. He’s always moving.
“You’re sure about the dosage?”
I exhale, sharp. “You’re asking me that?”
“Fair. But yeah, that’s odd.”
“She should’ve stirred after forty. Fifty max.”
“Could be adrenaline. Stress response. Body might’ve metabolized it slower.”
“She didn’t look stressed.”
“Doesn’t mean she wasn’t. You said she slipped something in your drink. Think she came in relaxed after that?”
My jaw tightens. “No. She was calculated. Playful. Controlled.”
“You’re describing yourself, you know.”
“I’m aware.”
There’s a stretch of silence. Not tense. Just thoughtful.
Then I speak again. “Kellan and Ash showed up. Guns drawn.”
“Of course they did.”
“Didn’t shoot me, though.”
“Shame.”
“They looked like they wanted to.”
“They still might. Sooner or later.”
“They took her with them.”
“So now they’re sleeping outside her door like rabid dogs again.”
“Probably.”
“And you let her go.”
“I didn’t own her to begin with.”
“No. But that’s not usually what stops you.”
I walk toward the bar again, refilling my glass, this time without the theatrics. No clink. No commentary. Just the warmth, and the silence between the words.
“They didn’t lower their guns at first,” I say after a moment. “But they listened. That says something.”
“That you’re still breathing?”
“That they’re smart.”
“Or just obsessed with her.”
“It’s not obsession.”
“No?”
“It’s loyalty.”
“Same thing. Different packaging.”
I swirl the drink in my hand. Watch the way it coils in the glass like it wants out. “You should’ve seen them, Nik. Standing there like I was holding their entire fucking world hostage. And maybe I was. But I didn’t make a move. I didn’t need to.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because someone has to know where the fault lines are before they crack.”
“And you think it’s going to crack?”
“I know it will.”
Another pause. Then Nikolai sighs, quieter this time. “You’re not usually like this.”
“Like what?”
“Thoughtful. Careful.”
“You think I’m being careful?”
“Too careful.”
“Maybe. Or maybe I’m just planning for something I actually want to keep.”
The words hang there. Heavy. I don’t walk them back. I won’t.
“So what?” Nikolai mutters. “You planning on putting a ring on her finger next?”
I lean back against the bar, smile twisting slowly. “If I ever get married,” I say, low and certain, “if I ever have kids… it’ll be with her.”
There’s silence. Not the kind that waits to be filled. The kind that stares at you. That demands to know if you meant it.
“Jesus,” Nikolai mutters finally. “You’re really fucked.”
“That’s not new.”
“No. But this is.”
He doesn’t say anything else for a moment.
Then, “You do realize what that means, right? What she could be? Who she really is?”
“I know enough.”
“You don’t know shit. ”
“But I will.”
The call ends not long after.
I don’t remember what else we said. Just that Nikolai didn’t push it. Didn’t scoff. Didn’t tell me I was out of my mind. Because deep down? He knows.
This isn’t about love. It’s not about loyalty. It’s about inevitability.
She’s not part of the game anymore. She is the game.
And whether she knows it yet or not— We’re playing it together.