Chapter 6
Evening draped itself over the city in ribbons of gold and violet. The last glow of Amara's boutique spilled through the glass before she flicked off the lights, plunging the narrow shop into shadows. She stepped out, jangling the keys in her hand, and locked the door with a tired but satisfied exhale.
When she turned, Kairen was already there, leaning against her car like he had been waiting all his life. He lifted a hand in a casual wave, that soft, knowing smile tugging at his lips.
Amara groaned dramatically. "Bitch, you scared the hell out of me."
Kairen chuckled. "What, you didn't see me? You need new glasses, Amara."
She gave him a playful shove as they walked toward the car. "Keep talking. That's why you were clowning when I got kicked out of that gala yesterday."
Kairen widened his eyes, feigning innocence. "I didn't say anything. But—" He smirked. "It was… kinda iconic. You made the rich folks tremble."
Amara gasped, clutching her chest like he'd shot her. "Excuse you? I was humiliated. That bitch—ugh, may her overpriced extensions catch fire. At least some of the contacts pulled through."
She rolled her eyes, but her lips curved upward despite herself. Unlocking the car, she slipped inside. Kairen followed, the scent of her perfume and fabric softener clinging to the warm air in the small hatchback. Sketch papers and fabric swatches littered the backseat—Amara's chaos, her empire in the making.
Amara adjusted her curls in the rearview mirror, then glanced at him. "So, where to? Drinks? Dinner? You need to celebrate that miracle of a new job."
Kairen leaned back, his voice softer than she expected. "The park."
"The park?" She raised a brow. "Wow, ren, living dangerously."
He smiled faintly, staring out at the city lights as they began to drive. "I just… want some quiet. Space to breathe."
Amara didn't argue. She tapped her fingers on the wheel, music humming low from the speakers. The streets blurred by in neon and shadow, and between them laughter sparked again, the kind that lived only between people who had carried each other's burdens long enough to know where to press and where to let silence be.
For tonight, the world could wait.
The Mazda purred softly as it rolled through the sleepy streets, the windows cracked just enough for the night air to sneak in. Streetlights dragged long shadows across Kairen's face, and for once he wasn't teasing Amara or laughing at one of her sarcastic quips. He leaned against the glass, voice low.
"Something about that place doesn't feel right," he muttered. "Like a part of me doesn't want to be there at all."
Amara shot him a quick glance before fixing her eyes back on the road. "Ren, don't start with that shit." Her voice was sharp, but underneath was worry. "Do you even hear yourself? That job is the best thing that's happened to you in years. The pay alone—hell, it's more than I make in six months."
Kairen's lips twitched, almost a smile but not quite. He let the silence swallow the rest of his doubt until the car eased to a stop. The park spread out before them, a scatter of benches under tired lamps, trees bending in the breeze.
The park felt safer in the dark, almost private, the hush of leaves in the breeze drowning out the noise of the city. Kairen and Amara sat shoulder to shoulder, trading small laughs and sighs, letting the weight of the day slide off. For a fleeting moment, the world felt distant.
Then came the footsteps. Heavy. Certain.
Amara caught sight first. Her expression hardened, the kind of look that said she already knew trouble when it walked her way. She stood abruptly, pretending to fuss with her shawl, but not before shooting Kairen a warning glance.
Kairen turned. And there he was.
Larry.
His ex. The one who hadn't let go. The one who never knew the difference between love and possession. Nights of shouting, doors slammed, the suffocating grip of someone who called his cruelty passion—it all came rushing back in an instant.
Larry's mouth curled into that familiar smug line as he slowed to a stop near the bench. "I knew I'd find you here," he said, voice low, almost casual, as if this meeting were fate and not stalking.
Kairen's chest tightened. His arm snapped out to block the bench when Larry tried to sit. "Say whatever you want standing."
Larry tilted his head, feigning injury at the coldness. "Kai, come on. Why haven't you been picking up my calls? You know me—we just had a little misunderstanding. That's all."
Kairen's laugh was sharp, bitter. He rose to his feet, posture iron-straight now. "We're not friends anymore, Larry. You know exactly why."
And in that silence, the truth pressed heavy—because Larry wasn't just an ex. He was the ghost of every bruise, every cutting word, every moment Kairen swore he'd never relive again.
Kairen turned and walked away. Amara slipped back to his side without a word, her presence steadying him.
"Take me home," he muttered.
She nodded, unlocking the car. Behind them, Larry lingered in the shadows, watching, his smirk fading into something colder.
The bell rang, and the gym filled with the hollow thuds of fists against flesh. Sebastian moved like a predator in his element, each punch precise, brutal, an outlet for the chaos boiling in his veins. The boxing ring wasn't just sport—it was his sanctuary. A place where no one called the shots but him. No father. No rules. Just his knuckles, the sweat, and the silence that came after the knockout.
And tonight, he delivered it perfectly. His opponent staggered, then collapsed beneath a devastating uppercut. The crowd exploded in noise, the echo of triumph vibrating through the rafters. Sebastian ripped out his mouthguard, chest heaving, as the referee raised his arm. Victory. Again.
He ducked through the ropes, wiping sweat from his brow. Celeste was already there, practically bouncing on her heels. She rushed to him with a towel and water bottle, eyes glittering like he'd just conquered the world. She dabbed at his chest, pressed the bottle to his hand, circling him with a devotion that bordered on pathetic. He barely acknowledged her—his gaze already shifting to the shadows where movement cut through the crowd.
Victor's bodyguards.
They approached like storm clouds in tailored black suits, their expressionless faces out of place in the raw heat of the gym. One spoke, voice low but carrying authority.
"Your night meeting with the client is set. You're expected back home now."
Sebastian barked out a humorless laugh, sharp and bitter. "I just came from the damn office—like he wanted. Isn't that enough? Now he's dragging me into night meetings too?" He took a step closer, eyes narrowing. "You think I'm some dog he can whistle back whenever?"
The guard didn't flinch. "We only deliver the message, sir."
Sebastian sneered, shoving the towel Celeste had given him over his shoulder. "Don't flatter yourselves. If I didn't want to go, there's no way in hell the two of you could move me. You know it." His voice dropped, dangerous, cutting. "But one wrong move, and suddenly I'm viral. 'Cross Heir Assaults Bodyguards.' That's the headline, isn't it?"
He snapped his water bottle shut, jaw tightening. "Fine. I'll play along. But don't mistake compliance for obedience."
Without waiting, he stalked forward, shoulders squared, towel hanging like a banner of defiance. The guards fell into step beside him, silent shadows escorting a storm.
Celeste hurried after him, voice pitched high with desperation. "Sebby—wait for me!"
But when she reached for his gym bag, the bodyguards intercepted, plucking it from her hands without ceremony. The gesture stung more than any words could. She reached toward Sebastian, searching for his attention, but he didn't spare her a glance.
He walked on, swallowed by the gravity of his father's world, leaving her stranded in the middle of the gym—alone, invisible, and humiliated.
---
Kairen pushed the door open, the dim apartment greeting him with silence. Cardboard boxes stood stacked neatly by the wall, Kevin's belongings already packed like a soldier ready for deployment. He was leaving in the morning.
"Hey," Kairen murmured as he stepped in.
Kevin looked up from his final bit of organizing and offered a small smile. "Don't worry about not treating me tonight. It's fine. Just remember—read the contract carefully before you sign anything."
Kairen nodded, guilt flickering across his face. "Thanks. For everything."
He slipped into his own room, shutting the door behind him. The contract lay on his desk, crisp and innocent, yet heavier than any stone. He unfolded it, reading the terms again. Six months minimum. No quitting clause. After that, a renewal or freedom—so simple on paper, so binding in reality.
He sighed, long and tired, then picked up the pen. Six months. I can handle six months. The scratch of ink sealed it. He slid the paper back into its folder and lay down, his body sinking into the mattress. Sleep took him fast, like surrender.
---
Across town, in a mansion too large to ever feel like home, Sebastian sat hunched on his bed, phone screen glowing against his sharp features. His fingers flew over messages to his sister. He was already planning routes, flights, anything that could take him to Germany before his father shackled him to another "responsibility."
"First the office. Now night meetings. What's next? Chains?" he muttered under his breath, pacing. His hazel eyes gleamed with irritation, the restlessness of a caged predator.
The thought of Victor finding out made his jaw tighten, but Sebastian knew better than to create a scene. One wrong move, and his face would be splashed across social media again, this time as a runaway heir.
So he stayed quiet, for now, plotting behind locked doors, rage simmering under the surface.
Two men, under two very different roofs, made choices that night.
One bound himself to a contract.
The other dreamt of escape.
Neither knew that the real game had already begun.