He swiped. The call connected immediately.
There were no words, just a sound, something raw, garbled, mechanical, almost, yet unnervingly human. A strangled, weird voice filtered through the speaker, distorted in a way that made Ryan's chest seize. His mind spun.
"K-Kai?" he stammered, his voice cracking, small and fragile against the darkness of the terrace. The city's hum felt distant now, irrelevant. All that existed was the terror clawing at his chest.
The voice didn't respond. Only that unnatural, clipped sound, staccato, harsh, almost suffocating, cut through him. Ryan's heart thudded violently, echoing in his ears. Every instinct screamed: danger. Kai is in trouble. Right now.
Ryan didn't look back. Not once. His footsteps pounded down the stairs, sharp, urgent, as if even a glance at her would shatter the determination holding him together. He took them two, three at a time, his shoulder brushing the rail, the air tight in his chest.
Maya remained rooted at the landing above, eyes trailing his vanishing figure, the sound of his steps echoing, fading, breaking something inside her she couldn't name.
By the time the front door slammed shut and silence claimed the stairwell again, it was as though the entire building was holding its breath.
Maya stood there, still. Her hand, the same hand he had clutched so desperately moments ago, tingled with the phantom warmth of his grip. She lifted it slowly, almost disbelievingly, and stared at her palm like it might still carry his outline. Her fingers curled into a loose fist, then loosened again. The sensation refused to fade.
She pressed her hand to her chest, just above her racing heart. The beat kicked against her palm, too fast, too alive. She shut her eyes, and in the darkness behind her lids, his face lingered. His eyes. His trembling voice.
The quiet around her only magnified it. It wasn't absence she felt. It was present, haunting, clinging, filling her even in his leaving.
Maya's lips quivered into the faintest curve, then broke into a breathy, shaky laugh. Her head tilted back against the cool wall, her shoulders sagging as though she was finally letting herself feel it.
Outside, Ryan was already striding fast toward his car, each step clipped, controlled, too controlled, as if any break in rhythm would unravel him. He pulled the door open, slid into the seat, and jammed the keys into the ignition. The engine roared to life, headlights cutting through the night. But before shifting into gear, he yanked his phone from his pocket. His thumb trembled as it flew across the screen.
He typed fast, no overthinking, no edits. Just raw, jagged words.
Ryan:Something urgent came up. I'll be back.
He stared at the message for half a breath, his jaw tight, before hitting send.
The screen glowed back at him, delivered.
His shoulders dropped, just slightly. It wasn't enough. It could never be enough. But at least she wouldn't stay there wondering why he had run. He shoved the phone aside, gripped the wheel, and finally pressed his foot down.
The car shot forward, tires screeching faintly against the asphalt. Streetlights whipped past, spilling gold across his windshield in fleeting bursts. The world outside blurred a smear of neon signs, shuttered shops, and dark windows.
But inside the car, his pulse was sharp, deliberate. Faster. Faster.
The night pressed close, thick and heavy. He kept one hand tight on the wheel, the other clenched hard against his thigh, nails biting into his skin through fabric. His breath came uneven, pulling too sharply at times, too shallow at others.
Every corner turned, every red light ignored, it was all muscle memory, not thought. His mind was already at Kai's. Already picturing him. Already fearing the worst.
What if I'm late? The thought stabbed, jagged and merciless. He clenched his teeth, pressing harder on the accelerator.
Kai's building loomed, darker than usual. The familiar outline of its balconies, the faint flicker of a half-broken streetlamp at the corner, it should have been ordinary, mundane. But tonight, it looked wrong. Too still. Too quiet. Ryan swerved into the curb, the tires grinding. He killed the engine with a harsh twist and threw the door open, his shoes hitting pavement in a fast, urgent rhythm.
Up the stairs. Two steps at a time. His chest heaved, his hand skimmed the railing once for balance, then clenched into a fist.
Kai's door was ahead. He reached for the knob, already bracing himself to pound, to shout his name, and froze. The door moved beneath his touch. Unlocked.
Ryan's heart gave a brutal lurch. Kai never left his door unlocked. Never. Not once in all the years Ryan had known him. Unless...unless he was expecting someone. Ryan's stomach twisted hard. He pushed the door open.
The smell hit first. Faint. Metallic. Not blood. Not smoke. Something else. Something chemical, sharp, burning faintly at the back of his throat. Then his eyes adjusted.
The room was wrecked. Cushions slashed open, foam spilling out like entrails. Books were scattered across the floor in messy piles. A lamp lay on its side, its shade dented. Glass shards glittered on the carpet, crunching faintly under Ryan's shoe as he stepped inside.
It looked like chaos had lived here. But it didn't feel like chaos. It felt staged. Ryan's breath caught. His fists curled tight, his muscles taut as wires. He turned his head slowly, scanning.
And then. There. Kai. Seated on his black sofa, legs crossed casually, posture too calm for the ruin around him. His eyes lifted at the sound of Ryan's entrance. No panic. No surprise. Just a strange stillness, like he had been waiting for exactly this moment.
Relief surged, sharp and fast. He was alive. Breathing. Whole. But it shattered in the very next heartbeat. Because Ryan saw the other figure. In the center of the room.
The man wasn't merely sitting; he was folded into submission. His body was forced onto his knees, the rough carpet digging into his skin, leaving faint abrasions where his weight pressed down. His back was arched at an unnatural angle because his wrists were twisted behind him, lashed together with a thick cord that bit into his flesh. His shoulders trembled, not just from the strain, but from the sheer loss of control; each breath came out as a shallow, muffled rasp against the tape stretched tight across his mouth.
His ankles were bound together so tightly that every twitch only deepened the cut of the restraints. He couldn't even shift for relief; he was immobilized, caged inside his own body. A strip of black cloth was tied firmly across his eyes, blotting out light, blotting out hope. His head hung low, jerking occasionally when his knees buckled, like a puppet dangling by strings. The faint sheen of sweat caught the dim light, rolling down his temple, disappearing into the tape.
And then, across from this crumpled figure was ''Kai''
He wasn't straining. He wasn't pacing. He wasn't even looking at the man directly. Instead, he sat back on his black sofa like it was a throne, one leg crossed lazily over the other, his elbow resting against the armrest, fingers brushing his jaw in quiet thought. His posture was sharp yet relaxed, a portrait of control. The dim glow of the lamp carved out the strong lines of his face, catching on the glint in his eyes, a glint that carried no panic, no urgency.
It was the casual aura that made it terrifying. While the man on his knees looked like a discarded shadow, Kai's presence filled the room. He didn't need chains, didn't need force. His very stillness, the way he leaned back like time itself was waiting for him, carried the unspoken message: everything here bends to me. Even the silence belonged to him.
The air shifted when Ryan stepped in, not because Kai moved, but because Kai simply was. He didn't flinch at Ryan's sudden arrival. He didn't turn his head right away.
The ma, bound and broken, trembled with every shallow breath. But Kai...Kai sat in a calm that was more dangerous than rage. His presence was the gravity in that room, and the bound man? He was just an object orbiting his will. He trembled...not from weakness, but from restraint. From fear.
Ryan froze mid-step. The world narrowed, air clamping his lungs. His pulse thundered in his ears, each beat louder than the last. His eyes darted between Kai's steady calm and the prisoner's brutal restraint.
Ryan flinched hard, his shoulder jerking as though he'd been the one struck. The man in the center buckled, a muffled cry tearing against the tape, choked, broken. His whole body sagged forward, struggling for air.
Ryan's chest constricted violently.
"What the hell is this?" His voice was raw, louder than he meant, breaking the silence like shattering glass.
Kai finally spoke, or maybe it wasn't even speech, just a slow, deliberate tilt of his head, his gaze sliding toward Ryan with unnerving calm.
The mess around him. The man was bound on the floor. The unlocked door. It was all wrong.
And in that moment, Ryan realized....He hadn't walked into a disaster. He had walked straight into something Kai wanted him to see. And nothing about that was safe.