Chapter Four
~ Need An Outlet ~
Soren
My fist clenches tightly around Kit’s abandoned robe, the fabric still warm from his body. I lick my teeth, jaw tight, then force my fingers to open and drop the robe onto the chair he was just sitting in. It lands in a pathetic little heap, mocking me.
I inhale sharply through my nose and drag both hands down my face, rubbing hard at my eyes.
Fuck. I tried; I was only trying to make sure he was eating enough.
The last thing I expected was for him to actually shout at me in front of everyone.
Part of me is still stunned by it. Another part, darker and hotter, had been a split second away from dragging him out of this room by the back of his neck and finishing exactly what we started last night.
I don’t know if I’m pissed off or turned on; probably both. I stayed calm, and he still ran.
The way he put his fork down, picked it back up, and put it down again… like he was desperately trying to guess whatever version of himself would please me most… it twisted something ugly in my chest. He’s still so fucking scared of me that even basic choices feel like landmines.
When I finally look up, the entire table has gone dead quiet. Every single one of them is staring, pretending they’re not, but I can feel the weight of their nosy-as-fuck opinions pressing in from all sides. They all have thoughts about Kit.
“Do you all plan on staring at me all day?” My voice cuts through the room like a blade. “You’ve got shit to do. Get to it.”
Chairs scrape back instantly, no one lingers. They know that tone leaves zero room for defiance or gossip.
I point at the ones I want. “Armen. Ray. Selina. Sit.”
They share a quick look but obey without argument, sliding back into their seats.
Once the door clicks shut behind the last person, I turn my gaze on Armen first. “Where did you find him?”
Armen swallows visibly. “He was in the little garden Lorraine looks after. Sitting on the bench.”
“Did he say anything?”
Armen shakes his head. “He, uh… didn’t want to talk to me. Said you wouldn’t like it.”
My jaw clenches so hard I feel the muscle jump. I shift my eyes to Selina.
She offers a cautious smile; hands folded neatly on the table. “Boss, I don’t even know why I’m here… You know I’ve tried to be friends with him before. You don’t let me talk to him.”
I exhale through my nose. “Alright. You two get out.”
“Yes, boss,” they both mutter, nodding quickly before pushing their chairs back and leaving the room without another word.
Only Ray remains at my left, my closest right-hand man, the nearest thing I have to a friend in this life.
He clears his throat. “Soren… do you want my advice?”
I let out a short, bitter laugh. “No, not really, Ray.”
He nods and wisely shuts his mouth.
After a moment, I roll my eyes and mutter, “For fuck’s sake… give it to me then…”
Ray sits up straighter. “Okay… well, I think you should tell him about his parents.”
I narrow my eyes, danger threading through my voice. “Now why the fuck would I do that?”
Ray leans in and hisses under his breath, “They were working for an organisation that were basically terrorists, boss!”
I clasp my hands tightly together and raise my brows, voice dripping with impatient sarcasm. “Oh… you think I don’t remember that, huh?”
He gestures animatedly, sighing. “I just think the kid needs a reason. He needs to know why we were there, why his parents had to go.”
I lean back in my chair, voice cold. “If anyone finds out they had a kid, they’ll track him down and God knows what they’d do to him.”
Ray nods slowly. “I know, but… I mean…”
He can’t get the rest of the words out before Lorraine walks back in, calm as ever, cutting him off. “You clearly have feelings for the boy.”
I scoff loudly enough that Ray actually flinches beside me. I turn on him. “Get the fuck out and make sure my shipments are running on time.”
He stands immediately. “Of course, boss.”
Lorraine starts wiping down the long table with deliberate, unhurried strokes. The rest of the staff usually help her at this point, but she must have told them to stay out.
She doesn’t even look at me when she speaks again. “You need to let the boy have some free will, Soren.”
“Free will?” I repeat, incredulous. “He’s in danger, Lorraine.”
She scoffs, the sound sharp and unimpressed. “What… inside these walls he’s in danger? Please. What a ridiculous excuse. You don’t want to share him because you have feelings for him.”
I stand up so abruptly my chair scrapes back with a harsh sound. “This conversation is over. Don’t be so absurd.”
She huffs, still wiping the same spot. “If you don’t, then… give him space. Let him make friends. Give him time to not be scared of you, Soren.”
“He’s been here two fucking years, Lor.”
“And in that time, you’ve treated him like a dog on a leash.”
The words land heavier than I expect. I don’t answer her. I just turn on my heel and walk out of the dining room without another word, the heavy door swinging shut behind me.
My blood is simmering. I need to hit something hard.
There’s a brand-new punching bag waiting in my private gym on the upper floor, and right now it’s calling my name louder than anything else in this goddamn house.
I head straight for the stairs, fists already tightening at my sides, dark hair falling across my forehead as I move.
The image of Kit’s frightened face, the way he shrugged out of that robe and ran, keeps flashing behind my eyes with every step.
He’s terrified of me, still, after two years. And the worst part is… I don’t know how to fix it without breaking him even more.
◆◆◆
I’m standing in the middle of my gym, chest heaving, every inch of me drenched in sweat.
The tape around my knuckles is frayed and dark with moisture as I slowly unwrap it, letting the strips fall to the floor.
My black vest is soaked through, clinging uncomfortably to my torso, and the shorts I’m wearing are plastered to my thighs.
Damp strands of dark hair stick to my forehead and the back of my neck.
The punching bag still swings gently on its chain, the leather dented and scuffed from the brutal beating I just gave it, but none of it helped.
If anything, I’m more pissed off now than I was when I walked in here…
frustration and something sharper still coiled tight in my gut.
A sharp knock echoes through the heavy door.
“What?” The single word comes out clipped and ice-cold. I’m in no mood for pleasantries.
The door opens and Ray steps inside, his expression tight. “Boss, we’ve got trouble.”
I don’t even look at him at first, just flex my sore knuckles and roll my shoulders. “Care to expand on that, Ray?”
He walks further in, tablet already in hand, and holds it out so I can see the surveillance footage.
It’s our private section of the docks, night-vision green, timestamp from this morning.
My team is cracking open the latest shipping container.
It should’ve been packed with crates of Glocks, fresh tactical uniforms, body armour, all the high-end shit I source from my overseas contact…
the ex-army guy who knows exactly how to move product without leaving traces.
Instead, the camera shows the men pulling out empty space.
Nothing; the entire crate is fucking empty.
A displeased growl rumbles up from my chest. “What about last night’s shipment?”
Ray nods quickly and swipes back on the footage. “All the produce arrived, boss. The coke is already at the warehouse being packaged. No issues there.”
I give a single sharp nod, jaw still tight. “Good.” My eyes narrow at the screen again. “So why the fuck would someone interfere with simple gear for my payroll instead of stealing all that money’s worth of coke?”
Ray exhales. “That’s what we’re struggling to figure out, boss. I’ve got Sam and Luke pulling every trace they can find… what time it happened, how they got in and out without tripping any alarms.”
I clap a heavy hand on Ray’s shoulder, the muscle beneath my palm tensing. “Good. I’m gonna take a shower, then we’re off to visit Mr. Vladski.”
Ray frowns, clearly caught off guard. “We are?”
I gesture sharply, irritation flaring fresh. “Isn’t that what I just said?”
“Right,” he mutters, nodding once.
“He’d benefit from this,” I add, already turning toward the door. “So that’s my first stop. Besides, any excuse to finally put a bullet in his skull is a good one.”
Ray lets out a short laugh despite himself. “I’ll have some guys ready.”
I nod once and head down the hall, boots heavy on the polished floor.
The sweat is cooling on my skin now, making the vest stick even more uncomfortably, but my mind is already shifting gears…
calculating, planning, the cold mask sliding back into place over the frustration that Kit stirred up earlier.
Shower first, then business, then maybe… I’ll find my frightened little runaway.