The bar was empty and quiet, the kind of quiet that wasn't peaceful, but sharp, like the air before a storm. The golden light from the hanging lamps spilled across the polished wood, glinting off half-empty glasses and untouched bottles. The faint hum of a refrigerator and the tick of a distant clock were the only sounds in the room.
Kai Arden sat there not like a man having a drink, but like a force occupying space.
He leaned back in the leather chair, one leg crossed lazily over the other, the tilt of his chin exuding unspoken authority. The dim light caught the sharp line of his jaw, the cold gleam in his eyes, the kind that made even silence feel dangerous. He wasn't fidgeting, not moving; he didn't have to. His stillness itself was power.
Ryan stood beside him, not speaking, not daring to. He'd seen Kai like this before, when he was calm, too calm, before things broke.
Across from them on the opposite side of Kai, Richard Kane sat stiff in his chair, the ice clinking in his untouched glass. The man had talked too much earlier, the false confidence of a broker who thought he could outwit anyone. But now, with Kai staring at him or worse, not staring at him, the words had dried up.
Kai's gaze wasn't on him. It was on the amber liquid in his glass, rolling gently as he turned it between his fingers. His thumb brushed the rim, slow, deliberate, like he was thinking about something far away.
Richard swallowed hard. Every breath he took seemed to echo in the thick air.
Kai hadn't said a word for nearly ten minutes. Not one. And yet the weight of his silence was crushing. He didn't need to shout. He didn't even need to look up. The mere curve of his mouth that faint, almost invisible smirk was enough to make a man forget how to breathe.
Ryan could see the aura. The same aura that once made producers rewrite entire scripts, that made powerful men tremble when he entered a room. But this wasn't the movie-star aura the world worshipped. This was the real Kai, the one who could end things with a single sentence.
Richard shifted uneasily, pretending to check his phone just to break the tension. And that's when Kai's phone buzzed. The sound sliced through the air like a blade. A single vibration on the wooden table, short, sharp, deliberate.
For a split second, Kai's eyes flicked to it. The screen lit up, a name glowing faintly.
He reached for it, his hand steady, but when his gaze caught the number, everything in him changed. His pupils tightened. His breath hitched once, barely noticeable, but Ryan caught it. The glass in his other hand trembled ever so slightly before he set it down.
Richard, unaware, tried to chuckle. "Important call, huh?" he muttered weakly.
But Kai didn't hear him. He just stared at that screen, the faint reflection of light flickering in his eyes, and then, for a terrifying second, he looked like a man caught between two worlds.
Then he answered. He didn't say a word at first. Just listened. The bar seemed to fade around him, the voices, the sounds, everything melting into static. Whatever he heard made the blood drain from his face. His fingers tightened around the phone until his knuckles turned white.
A whisper. That's all Ryan could hear. A single, low word from Kai's lips, "I'll be there."
Then he was on his feet. The chair scraped harshly against the floor, the sudden movement slicing through the silence. The glass on the table toppled, liquid spilling like amber fire across the wood. Kai didn't notice. He was already moving.
"Sir, what..." Ryan started, stumbling after him, confusion flickering across his face.
Kai didn't look back. His voice came low, urgent, stripped of all composure. "Give me the keys."
Ryan blinked, half-running behind him. "What happened? Where are you....."
"The keys, Ryan!" The command snapped through the hall like thunder. Ryan didn't ask again. He dug into his pocket and flung the car keys across the air.
Kai caught them mid-stride, barely slowing down. The metallic jingle echoed as the keys landed in his palm. And then he was gone. The heavy door slammed open, the morning light from outside cutting into the dim bar like a blade. His coat flared behind him, boots striking the floor in a hard, deliberate rhythm.
Ryan stopped at the threshold, breathless, watching as Kai ran, not walked, across the gravel toward the black car parked under the trees. He had never seen him like that before. Not the calm, composed Kai Arden the world worshipped. Not the man who never rushed, never panicked. This was different. This was raw. Urgent. Like something inside him had cracked open, and all that remained was need.
The car door slammed. The engine roared alive, tires skidding against the road as Kai sped away, a blur of motion and dust. Ryan stood there for a long moment, staring at the cloud of smoke fading down the road.
He didn't know what happened. He didn't know what could make a man like Kai Arden lose his calm like that. But the look on Kai's face, the way his jaw had tightened, the flicker of fear that had crossed his eyes, it was enough to tell him one thing: Whatever it was, it mattered more than anything else. And Ryan, for once, didn't chase after him.
And somewhere down that long road, the car's sound faded into silence, carrying Kai Arden, the man everyone feared, racing toward the only person who could make him forget the world.
The steering wheel slipped slightly under his hands. His throat tightened, a thousand unsaid words rising all at once. Alina... awake.
He didn't even realize when his foot slammed against the accelerator. The engine roars like a beast unleashed. 200... 300... 400... the world outside turns into streaks of light. At 520 km/h, Kai drives not just to reach but to fight time itself. The road bends beneath his will, and every heartbeat is a countdown.
His pulse raced faster than the engine. Every second felt too long, every breath too heavy. He could barely see straight. All he could think was that she was awake, breathing, alive.
And he hadn't been there to see her. That thought hurt more than anything. He should have been there. He should have been the first person she saw when she opened her eyes, not anyone else.
He had promised her silently that he would never leave her side again. And yet, when she finally woke from the silence of days... he was gone. The guilt pressed into his chest like a stone. By the time the car skidded into the driveway, his heart was beating like thunder.
Granny was standing in the garden, watering the potted plants. The water shimmered in the morning light, droplets scattering like crystal dust. She turned when she heard the sound of tires grinding on gravel.
"You came?" she said, smiling faintly, wiping her hands on her apron. "But where did you go in this... costume? What's this coat? Looks like some role-play."
Kai didn't even answer. He was halfway out of the car before she finished her sentence. "Granny, where is she?" he asked, his tone edged with urgency. "And why did you leave her alone?"
Granny blinked at him, startled. "Alone? No, no, she's fine. She's... taking a bath. I just came down to water these poor plants. They'll die if I forget them for even a day."
He turned toward the house. "Then I'll..." he began, pointing toward the stairs.
"Yes, yes, go," Granny interrupted, a soft knowing smile curling her lips. "You should."
Kai didn't need to hear more. He rushed inside, his long strides echoing through the living room. The scent of antiseptic that had lingered for days was gone, replaced by something warm, faintly floral.
Someone had opened the curtains. The room was bright. Peaceful. It almost didn't feel like the same house where silence had hung heavy for four days straight. He paused. His heartbeat had softened into something uneven, half fear, half awe.
She's awake. He kept repeating it in his mind, as if afraid the truth might vanish if he stopped believing it. He saw her room door slightly ajar, just like she always left it. Light spilled through the crack, soft and golden, pooling on the floor like honey.
From inside came the faint sound of running water. The bathroom door was closed, steam curling from underneath it. He froze. His throat went dry. She was in there. Alive. Moving.
The world seemed to tilt. For days, he had watched her chest rise and fall slowly, wished for even the faintest flicker of movement. Now, just knowing that she was standing, that she was strong enough to bathe on her own, was enough to make his knees weak. He leaned against the wall for a second, closing his eyes. His breath came out in a shudder. She's awake. She's here.
When he opened his eyes again and moved inside his room where he noticed how tidy everything looked. The bedsheets were folded, the side table wiped clean, and the room smelled of lavender. Someone had cleared away the medicines and empty glasses that had piled up near the bedside.
Even the blanket he'd pulled over Alina every night while sitting beside her was now neatly folded at the foot of the bed. It felt… peaceful.
For a moment, he just stood there, staring at her pillow, the same one that still had faint traces of her scent. He remembered sitting there, her cold hand between both of his hands.
And now she was awake. His chest tightened again, not with sorrow this time, but with something deeper was it relief? gratitude? It was definitely an ache that words couldn't carry.