Lucas straightened slowly, his hands curling into fists as his gaze remained fixed on Vivian’s pale face. He could feel Noah’s eyes on him, coolly assessing, the tension between them stretching thin and dangerous. The room was heavy with unspoken threats, charged with volatile possibilities.

  “What the fuck happened?” Lucas finally asked, his voice a low growl, taut and restrained, edged with violence just beneath the surface.

  Noah stood at the foot of the bed, leaning slightly against the wall with deceptive ease. But Lucas could see the way his shoulders tensed, the faint, uncontrollable flicker of something wild behind his carefully constructed fa?ade. Noah exhaled slowly, a faint smirk tugging at his bruised lip, eyes glittering coldly.

  “I misjudged our contact,” he said deliberately, forcing a detached calm that grated against Lucas’s raw nerves. “She turned out to be a fucking idiot. She drugged Vivian along with Sammy, then delayed me—”

  Lucas’s head snapped sharply towards Noah, his eyes darkening to a murderous pitch. His voice was dangerously soft, each syllable weighted with violent intent. “Delayed you?”

  A chilling silence spread through the room, broken only by Vivian’s shallow breathing. Lucas’s mind spiraled into vivid, horrifying images of Vivian alone with Sammy, vulnerable, helpless. The mere possibility that Noah had allowed it was enough to ignite something volatile inside him, a violence he fought hard to contain.

  Noah seemed to sense it, meeting Lucas’s murderous gaze with a slow, twisted smile. He tilted his head, almost mocking. “Relax, Lucas. I got there before it happened. She’s fine.”

  Lucas felt his fury spike sharply at Noah’s casual tone, his jaw tightening painfully as he struggled to remain controlled. “You let her get hurt,” Lucas growled, eyes narrowing dangerously.

  Something cold and lethal surfaced in Noah’s expression, the thin veneer of composure cracking ever so slightly. “Careful,” he warned softly, voice dripping with sinister amusement. “You’re not exactly in a position to lecture anyone on morality.”

  Lucas moved forward slowly, closing the distance until barely inches separated them. He held Noah’s gaze, unflinching, the tension coiling tighter with every passing second. “This happens again, I’ll end you,” Lucas promised quietly, the threat clear, raw, devoid of theatrics or pretense.

  Noah’s eyes darkened, a twisted enjoyment flashing behind his otherwise unreadable expression. He leaned in closer, voice a dangerous whisper, tinged with a sadistic glee. “That’d be entertaining to see you try.” He let the words hang maliciously, eyes glittering with sick satisfaction as he watched Lucas’s fury deepen.

  Lucas’s fists tightened further, knuckles whitening, muscles trembling slightly with barely restrained violence. His voice was cold, lethal, utterly devoid of any mercy. “You keep playing these games, and you’ll find out just how fucking entertaining it can get.”

  For a charged, endless moment, the two men stared each other down, locked in a silent promise of mutual destruction. Neither moved, neither spoke, letting the threat sink deeply beneath their skin, binding them in an unspoken contract of hate.

  Finally, Lucas stepped back, inhaling sharply through clenched teeth. He turned toward Vivian, lingering on her bruised face with unmistakable tenderness that enraged Noah further, though he concealed it beneath his unsettling, blank smile.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  “I’ll be back with supplies,” Lucas murmured tightly, never fully taking his eyes off Noah. “Don’t touch her. Don’t even breathe near her.”

  Noah said nothing, his silence an insidious taunt.

  When the door finally clicked shut behind Lucas, the silence wrapped around Noah, thick and heavy. He stared at Vivian, still motionless beneath the weighted blanket, her bruised cheek stark against her pale skin. A surge of something unfamiliar tightened in his chest, sharp and aching.

  He moved closer, watching her steady breathing, the way her hair spilled across his pillow. A fragile softness he wasn’t prepared for stirred deep inside him, cutting through layers of anger and violence. The feeling twisted sharply—dangerously—against his ribs.

  He should’ve been stronger. Faster. More ruthless. He should’ve protected her better.

  Noah reached out slowly, his fingertips hovering above her face but never quite touching her skin. His hand trembled slightly before he withdrew, the vulnerability dissolving quickly into familiar coldness. But the quiet thought lingered, undeniable and raw.

  He wouldn’t fail her again.

  Noah sank slowly onto the edge of the bed, the mattress shifting subtly beneath his weight. His eyes, unnaturally dark in the dim room, never left Vivian’s sleeping form. She lay motionless beneath the heavy blanket, breaths shallow but steady, a fragile rhythm he found himself obsessively tracing.

  He flexed his hands absently, knuckles still raw and bloody, the sting of torn skin oddly comforting. Pain was simple, reliable—a grounding tether. But even it couldn’t distract him from the images burning vividly in his mind: Vivian pinned beneath Sammy, her wide eyes glazed with helpless terror, lips parted in a silent scream.

  His pulse quickened dangerously at the memory, rage like a dark, hungry thing clawing at his insides. Noah stood abruptly, pacing the room with swift, restless movements, fingers curling and uncurling compulsively. He imagined vividly how it would feel to wrap those same fingers around Sammy’s throat again, to squeeze slowly, mercilessly, watching as the life drained from his eyes. He’d savor the moment, prolong the agony—he’d become an artist of pain, painting masterpieces in blood and broken bones.

  But Sammy wouldn’t be the only canvas.

  Mochi. His jaw clenched so tightly it ached. He’d been too soft, too sentimental in his threats, all because she’d reminded him of someone else—someone pure and perfect, someone who’d been twisted by darkness yet had somehow remained unbreakable. His heart hammered unevenly, remembering Doll-Face’s eyes, fierce and defiant even in moments of quiet vulnerability. A sudden flash of Vivian’s face overlapped with that memory, aligning seamlessly, disturbingly. He shuddered, confusion momentarily piercing through his fury.

  Noah froze, turning sharply toward Vivian once more, his breath catching painfully. For the first time in years, uncertainty clawed at his throat. His control was slipping, crumbling beneath emotions he neither recognized nor understood. Vivian wasn’t just another pawn; she was something raw, terrifying, beautiful—something he couldn’t simply discard when the game was finished. She was becoming everything, consuming him, pulling him toward an abyss he had meticulously avoided.

  He moved silently back toward the bed, drawn helplessly to her side. Gently, almost reverently, he brushed his fingers across her bruised cheek, his touch feather-light, tender despite the storm raging within him. He traced the outline of the angry marks left by Sammy’s violence, each discoloration fueling his cold, psychotic determination. Vivian sighed softly in her sleep, instinctively leaning into his touch, trusting him even unconscious.

  It broke something within him—cracked open a hidden, vulnerable part he’d believed long dead.

  “You shouldn’t trust me,” he whispered softly, voice rough, trembling on the edge of madness. “Not like this. Not when I’m barely holding it together.”

  Noah drew back sharply, the darkness rushing in once more. He wouldn’t let her down again. He’d kill for her, torture for her, do anything she asked—or even if she didn’t. He would become whatever nightmare necessary to keep her safe, to keep her close, chained to him by violence and devotion alike.

  His thoughts spiraled, terrifying and comforting all at once. She was his to protect, his to avenge—his to break, his to heal. He would carve their story into the flesh and bones of anyone who dared threaten her again. And yet, despite the madness simmering just beneath his skin, the only truth Noah understood clearly was that Vivian now owned something of him he’d never meant to give anyone.