Control. That was what his life was built on. Every meeting scheduled to the minute, every order carried out with precision, every detail accounted for. In Akon's world, surprises were dangerous.
But that day, fate slipped through the cracks.
After the call from his sister, he had arranged the car, prepared himself for the routine. Pick her up. Take her home. Nothing complicated. But Amy had asked for something unusual:
"Before the airport, take me somewhere. There's someone I want to see."
Akon rarely indulged detours. Yet for Amy, he would move mountains. She was the only softness left in his life, the only blood he still trusted. So he said yes.
An hour later, the car stopped. Amy stepped out quickly, her smile blooming as she ran into someone's arms. Akon barely looked up, his phone pressed to his ear, voice low as he issued orders to his assistant.
And then he saw her.
The world tilted.
She was there, hugging his sister, her head bent, her soft hair catching the sunlight like strands of fire. Sharon.
For a moment, he couldn't breathe.
Five years. Five long years of silence. Of burying her ghost under the weight of business, blood, and power. Of convincing himself she had been a fleeting dream.
And now—she was standing in front of him. Real. Alive. Within reach.
Akon's heart slammed against his ribs. If he hesitated now, if he let her slip through the cracks again, he knew—he would never forgive himself.
He ended the call without a word, shoved the phone into his pocket, and stepped out of the car. His strides were sharp, urgent, each one slicing through the distance between them.
Sharon lifted her head just as he reached them.
Her eyes widened. Recognition flickered—she remembered him. That brief, haunting glance at the airport, the man hugging Amy. He saw the memory cross her face like a storm.
Amy smiled, oblivious to the undercurrent. "Sharon, meet my younger brother. Akon."
For the first time in years, Sharon's soft voice trembled out of her lips.
"H-hello… I… I'm Sharon."
Akon's gaze locked onto hers. Possession burned in his chest. His lips curved, but the words that slipped from him were not meant for her ears.
"I know who you are."
But Sharon heard. Her breath caught. A shiver ran through her spine, a mixture of fear and something else she didn't dare name. His voice wasn't just dark—it was claiming, as though her identity had never belonged to her at all, but to him.
Her palms were damp, her heart stumbling against her ribs. Amy's brother was… nothing like Amy.
Akon was taller, broader, carved from shadow and steel. His eyes were unreadable, dark as midnight, and yet they seemed to strip her bare in seconds. There was danger in his presence, yes—but also something far worse. Safety.
It terrified her.
Because Sharon didn't feel safe with men. She felt invisible, unwanted, forgotten. But standing this close to Akon, his eyes burning into hers, a strange calm coiled in her chest. As though if the world collapsed right now, he'd still catch her.
And that was far more dangerous than fear.
She stuttered a small smile, looked away, but his presence lingered like heat against her skin.
Amy, cheerful as always, broke the tension. "Little brother, can we talk for a moment?"
Akon finally looked away, but Sharon felt the weight of his absence as much as his gaze. The two siblings moved a few steps aside. Sharon pretended not to watch, but her eyes betrayed her, tracing the lines of Akon's sharp profile, the way he carried power without even moving.
She didn't hear everything. But she caught Amy's words,
"Can you take care of Sharon until I come back to Italy?"
Her stomach dropped.
When Akon smiled at that request, something inside Sharon tightened. His smile wasn't warm. It was victorious.
It was the first time in years that something like happiness cracked through his composure.
Take care of Sharon. Protect her. Be close to her.
His sister had unknowingly handed him the very thing he'd been chasing for years—the chance.
"I'll do anything for you, big sis," answered without hesitation, his smile sharp, his heart pounding with a hunger he barely contained.
For once, Amy was giving him permission to be exactly where he already wanted to be.
(The Airport)
Convincing Sharon to join them at the airport wasn't simple. She hesitated, stammered, made excuses about work. Her fear of Akon was written all over her—her reluctance clear. But Amy begged, pleaded with those soft, loyal eyes, until Sharon relented.
Akon didn't miss the way Sharon bit her lip before agreeing. Or the way her eyes flicked toward him, then quickly away, as if she were afraid he'd burn her alive if she stared too long.
When she returned from the café after asking her seniors for leave, Amy hugged her tightly. Sharon's small frame pressed into Amy's, but her eyes still lingered cautiously on Akon, as though he were both a predator and a shield.
The car ride was silent. Sharon kept her gaze fixed out the window, but Akon could see the way her hands twisted in her lap, her pulse fluttering at her throat.
At the airport, Amy leaned close to him before she left, her whisper sharp.
"Don't tell Sharon about our world. If she knows I'm the sister of a mafia boss, she'll run from me forever. She's innocent. Too good for shadows."
Akon's jaw tightened. He wanted to argue. Wanted to tell Sharon everything, claim her entirely, not with lies but with truth. But Amy's words carried weight. Sharon's innocence was the only thing keeping her within reach.
He nodded slowly.
"Fine. For now. But I'll protect her, no matter what."
Amy smiled, hugged him, and then turned to Sharon.
"Be safe, little sister. If you need help, my brother will take care of you."
Sharon's eyes widened, and she shook her head quickly.
"Amy, no… you're like my sister, I can't be a burden to you—or your brother."
Amy only laughed, holding her close again. "It's not a burden if it's family."
Sharon swallowed hard, her gaze flickering to Akon for the briefest second. His eyes were already on her, dark and unyielding.
She looked away quickly, but the feeling stayed:
The storm had chosen her.
And Akon was the kind of man who never let go of what he claimed.