ZOE DEAN'S POV
The drive to the airport felt endless.
My heart wouldn't stop pounding—fast, loud, and uneven—like it was trying to tear its way out of my chest. My palms were slick against my nightwear, and every time the car jolted over a bump, I flinched. The gun Nero had given me sat beside me on the leather seat, glinting faintly under the streetlights that flashed past the window. I couldn't stop glancing at it, as if it might suddenly go off on its own.
Everything inside me screamed that this wasn't real, that this couldn't be happening. But still here I was.
I couldn't stop wondering who was attacking us? Why? What did they want? And why had Nero stayed back?
No one had answers. All I knew was that I was supposed to follow Emily to get to the airport, to be safe. But even as the car sped through the night, the word safe felt meaningless.
When we finally reached the airport, the silence was unbearable. The parking lights threw long shadows across the ground, stretching and moving whenever I did. I kept pacing—back and forth, back and forth—like if I stopped, the fear would catch up to me.
It was so late. The air was cool and damp, brushing against my arms like a whisper. Nero and Benny still hadn't arrived. Every sound—the rustle of wind, the distant hum of the jet—made my stomach twist tighter.
"Zoe," Emily's small voice broke through the quiet. She was sitting on one of the benches, her knees pulled close to her chest. "You should calm down. Benny texted me. They're on their way."
Calm down. If only it were that easy. Maybe it was easy for her. She'd been through this before. The guns. The running. The middle-of-the-night escapes. But me? I was still learning how to breathe through it all.
An hour crawled by. I couldn't tell if my legs were numb from pacing or trembling from fear. And then, finally, the glare of headlights sliced through the darkness. A black car rolled toward us. Nero's car.
My breath caught.
The moment the engine cut off, I was already moving. My legs didn't even ask for permission, they just ran. The car door opened and Nero stepped out.
I didn't think. I just threw myself into his arms.
The scent of smoke and cold air clung to his clothes as I buried my face against his chest. My arms wrapped tightly around his waist, and for a moment, I didn't care that he'd just returned from a war zone. My body shook with relief, small sobs escaping before I could stop them.
"Don't… you dare… do that again," I whispered between breaths, my voice breaking.
His arms tightened around me—one hand on my waist, the other gently stroking my hair. "I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice soft, roughened by exhaustion.
Someone behind us said, "Sir, the jet is ready."
I didn't even look to see who. My entire world was just his heartbeat against my ear, steady and real.
"Don't... ever scare me like that again," I said, still trembling.
"I'm sorry," he repeated quietly. "I'll explain everything to you, okay?"
I nodded against his hard chest before pulling back to look at him. His face was calm—too calm. Not a scratch. Not a drop of blood. Just those unreadable eyes, steady and composed, as if we hadn't just escaped death.
How could someone look so at ease in the face of chaos?
He took my hand, his grip warm and grounding, and together we walked back toward Emily and Benny. Emily's face said it all—the same relief, the same silent understanding.
"Thanks for watching Zoe for me," Nero said to her, offering a small smile.
She nodded, and the four of us headed for the jet.
This time, the air inside the cabin felt different. Heavy. No one spoke. Emily rested her head on Benny's shoulder, her eyes half-closed. I wrapped the thin blanket around myself, trying to stop the shaking that hadn't quite left me. Nero sat beside me, quiet, his gaze fixed out the small window.
The hum of the jet engines filled the silence as we sliced through the clouds.
"Where are we going?" I finally whispered.
"Thailand," he said simply.
Thailand?
I blinked at him, confused. I'd never been there before. But then again, since meeting Nero, I'd done a lot of things I'd never done before. Holding a gun. Running for my life. Crossing three cities in two weeks.
"Why?" I asked softly.
"I have someone there who can help me find someone," he said, his tone even, detached.
The silence returned, thicker this time. The sound of the engines blurred into a dull ache in my ears.
I turned to him again. "Who attacked us?"
His gaze didn't waver. "The Dark Lions."
I frowned. The name meant nothing to me, but the way he said it sent a chill crawling up my spine.
"Why?"
His answer came like a blade—clean, sharp, emotionless. "Because I killed their boss."
For a moment, I forgot to breathe.
He said it so calmly. Like he was talking about the weather.
He killed someone?
My mind tried to form the words, but they wouldn't come out.
He'd killed someone… and yet here he was, sitting beside me, eyes steady, heartbeat unshaken.
I didn't ask again. I didn't want to know how. Or when. Or why. Or what it made him feel.
Because I was scared that, deep down, I already knew the answer.
***
By the time we landed, the world outside had changed.
Through the jet's small oval window, the night sky was gone, replaced by a soft wash of gold. Morning light spilled over a stretch of green that seemed endless beneath us. The clouds hung low and thick, drifting lazily, and for a second I forgot how tightly my chest had been knotted. When the wheels finally touched the runway, a soft jolt rippled through the cabin, and my heart leapt as if it wasn't ready for the landing.
We were in Thailand.
For a long moment, I just sat there, watching the light creep in through the window. The world looked calm. Too calm for everything we'd just been through.
Nero stood first, his movements smooth, controlled—like always. He slid on his dark sunglasses, the kind that made him impossible to read, and then turned to me. His hand reached out, steady, certain. "Let's go," he said quietly.
I took his hand and stood, my legs stiff from the flight. Emily and Benny were already ahead of us, their fingers linked, heads bent close together. I followed behind Nero, clutching his hand tighter than I meant to.
When we stepped out of the jet, the air felt different—warmer, heavier. The faint scent of rain and earth lingered in it. The breeze brushed against my skin, but Nero's jacket around my shoulders did most of the work keeping me warm.
"Thanatosakorn!"
The voice made me blink. A man in a black suit approached, his tone soft but surprised. He looked to be in his forties—tan skin, sharp cheekbones, a slightly rounded jawline that softened his expression. His dark hair was slicked neatly back, and everything about him spoke of quiet elegance and authority.
Thanatosakorn.
The name echoed in my head. That's what he'd called Nero.
"Somchai," Nero greeted him, forcing a small smile. There was something in his tone though—polite, but edged.
"Benny! You're all welcome," Somchai said, nodding at Benny, whose arm was draped protectively around Emily. Benny gave a small nod back.
Then Somchai's gaze slid to me.
Curious. Measuring.
His eyes lingered a second too long, his brows lifting slightly, and I had to fight the urge to step behind Nero. My stomach twisted. I hated the way people looked at me when they didn't know who I was.
"This is Zoe Dean," Nero said softly, sensing my unease. His hand brushed mine briefly. "My girlfriend."
Somchai's eyes widened. "Your girlfriend?" His tone was thick with disbelief, the accent in his English clear. "I thought you didn't date."
Nero didn't answer. His expression was unreadable, but something flickered in his jaw—tension, maybe annoyance. Instead, he changed the subject. "Did you get my message?"
Somchai straightened, the warmth in his tone fading into something more formal. "I did." A small frown creased his brow. "It's not going to be easy."
"But you can help me?" Nero's voice was calm, low, but there was an edge beneath it—like a hidden warning.
Somchai nodded slowly. "Of course."
Nero gave a curt nod, then turned to look at me. His gaze softened as he studied my face, and I quickly looked away. I didn't want him to see how drained I was.
"I need a hotel," he said, turning back to Somchai.
"Hotel?" Somchai let out a small laugh. "When I have a mansion here? Impossible. You'll stay with me."
"I wouldn't want to inconvenience you," Nero replied.
"It's no inconvenience, Nero. You're like a son to me too."
There was a pause—Nero thinking it over, his hand tightening briefly around mine—before he nodded.
"I'll prepare the car," Somchai said, then left with quiet steps.
As soon as he was out of sight, Nero leaned down slightly, his voice softer now, only for me. "Are you okay?"
I nodded automatically. "I'm fine. Just tired."
It was a lie. My body felt heavy, my mind even heavier. Every nerve in me still buzzed with leftover fear.
He studied me for a moment longer, his brows drawn slightly in worry. "We'll get food and rest when we get to the mansion, okay?"
I nodded again, because that was all I could do. Because right now, more than food or rest, I just needed to feel safe, and the only thing keeping me grounded was the warmth of his hand around mine.