Third Person POV

A week had passed since the therapy session. Elijah and Lorenzo had left for their business trip for a week. The house felt different without their steady presence—a little quieter, but not in a bad way. Maxim had taken on the role of making sure things ran smoothly, which mostly involved teasing Ethan about his homework and waking Miray up for early workouts, much to her annoyance.

The soft glow of dawn crept through the curtains of Miray’s room, painting the walls with faint hues of pink and gold. She stirred slightly under the covers, shifting as a faint knock sounded at her door. It was followed by the unmistakable voice of Maxim.

“Miray,” he called gently, but with enough firmness to make her know he wasn’t leaving anytime soon. “Get up, Rei. It’s time.”

She groaned, pulling the blanket over her head, as though the act could magically make him disappear.

The door creaked open, and Miray peeked out from under the blanket to see Maxim leaning casually against the doorframe, his arms crossed and an amused smirk on his face. He was dressed in a black tank top and athletic shorts, his hair slightly messy from having just woken up.

“Don’t make me carry you to the gym,” he warned playfully, raising an eyebrow.

Miray sighed dramatically, tossing the blanket aside as she swung her legs over the edge of the bed. “It’s five in the morning,” she muttered, rubbing her eyes. “Who does this?”

“People who care about their safety,” Maxim shot back, tossing a water bottle onto her bed. “Get dressed. I’ll meet you downstairs.”

Grumbling under her breath, Miray grabbed her workout clothes and changed quickly, tying her hair back into a messy ponytail. She wasn’t thrilled about being awake this early, but she knew Maxim meant well. And a part of her—the part she hated admitting—felt a strange sense of comfort knowing he cared enough to push her.

---

In the gym room, the faint hum of machines filled the air. The space was spacious and well-equipped, with everything from treadmills to free weights, punching bags, and even a small boxing ring.

Maxim was already stretching when Miray walked in, looking less than enthusiastic. He glanced at her and grinned. “Took you long enough.”

She rolled her eyes, taking a sip from the water bottle. “You know, normal people are still sleeping right now.”

“And normal people aren’t my sister,” he replied, standing up straight and motioning for her to join him. “Alright, let’s start with some stretches. We don’t want you pulling a muscle in the first five minutes.”

As they went through the stretches, Maxim’s tone remained light, teasing her occasionally when she struggled to hold certain poses. But there was an underlying seriousness to his demeanor—a quiet determination to prepare her for whatever might come next.

“Okay,” Maxim said after a while, clapping his hands together. “Let’s start with some basic punches. Come here.”

Miray hesitated as he pulled out a pair of punching pads and slipped them onto his hands.

“You’re serious?” she asked, eyeing the pads warily.

“Dead serious,” Maxim said, his tone firm but not unkind. “This isn’t just about throwing punches, Miray. It’s about building confidence. Knowing you can fight back if you ever need to.”

She swallowed hard, memories of Arthur and Adrian flashing briefly through her mind. Maxim must have seen something in her expression because he stepped closer, lowering the pads.

“Hey,” he said softly, tilting his head to meet her gaze. “You’re safe here, okay? This is just training. No pressure.”

Miray nodded, though her chest felt tight. She raised her fists, mimicking the stance Maxim had demonstrated earlier.

“Good,” he said, stepping back and holding up the pads. “Now, try a straight punch. Keep your wrist straight, aim for the center, and don’t forget to breathe.”

Her first punch was weak, barely making a sound against the pad. Maxim didn’t comment, only nodding for her to try again.

“Better,” he said after her second attempt. “Now put some weight behind it. Think about what you’re fighting for.”

She hesitated for a moment before throwing another punch, this one harder and more focused. Maxim smiled. “There you go. That’s the spirit.”

They continued like that, with Maxim correcting her form and encouraging her when she got frustrated. By the time they moved on to defensive moves, Miray was sweating but feeling a small sense of accomplishment.

“Alright,” Maxim said, holding up the pads again. “This time, I’m going to swing at you, and you’re going to block. Use your forearms. Ready?”

She nodded, her nerves spiking as he swung the pads lightly toward her. Her first few blocks were clumsy, but Maxim was patient, guiding her through each movement until it started to feel more natural.

“You’re doing great,” he said after a while, stepping back to give her a break. “Take five.”

Miray leaned against the wall, sipping from her water bottle and wiping the sweat from her forehead. She felt a mix of exhaustion and pride, though the thought of needing these skills someday made her stomach churn.

“Max,” she said quietly as he adjusted the punching bag.

“Yeah?” he replied, glancing over his shoulder.

“Do you really think this will help?” Her voice was soft, almost hesitant.

Maxim walked over, crouching slightly to meet her gaze. “I think it’s a start,” he said honestly. “You’ve been through hell, Miray. But you’re still here. That says a lot about how strong you are. This,” he gestured to the gym, “is just to remind you of that strength.”

Her throat tightened, and she looked away, blinking back tears.

“Hey,” he said, his tone gentle. “You’re not alone in this. I’ve got your back. We all do.”

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

They finished the session with some light sparring, Maxim being careful not to push her too hard. By the time they wrapped up, the sun was fully up, and the house was beginning to stir with life.

As they left the gym room, Maxim slung an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. “Not bad for your first session,” he teased. “But don’t think this gets you out of tomorrow’s workout.”

Miray groaned, but there was a small smile on her lips. “You’re relentless, you know that?”

“Part of my charm,” Maxim said with a grin, ruffling her hair as they headed to the kitchen.

---

The streets were quiet, the only sound the soft rustling of leaves in the wind as Miray slipped out of the house. She glanced over her shoulder, half-expecting Maxim to burst through the door and drag her back inside, but the house remained still. The note she’d left on the kitchen table would hopefully keep him from worrying too much—though she doubted it would temper his overprotective streak. She’d felt suffocated lately, as though the walls around her were closing in, and she needed this. A moment of solitude. A chance to breathe.

The cool night air embraced her as she walked through the empty streets, her heart pounding—not out of fear, but from the thrill of doing something against her brother’s wishes. She pulled her sweater closer, her black hair flowing with the gentle breeze.

The walk took her farther than she anticipated, her feet guiding her up a small incline. When she reached the top, the view took her breath away—a cliff overlooking the shimmering ocean under the moonlight. The waves crashed below, their sound soothing and rhythmic.

Her gaze drifted to the side, where a black motorcycle stood parked near the edge. Its owner leaned casually against it, his broad frame illuminated by the silvery light. Miray froze, her heart stuttering. She moved closer, her footsteps tentative.

“Angelo...” she whispered, the name leaving her lips before she could stop herself.

The man turned at the sound, his piercing forest-green eyes locking onto hers. For a moment, confusion flickered across his scarred face, but it was quickly masked by his usual stoic demeanor. His leather jacket gleamed under the moonlight, his imposing figure a stark contrast to the softness of the night.

“What are you doing here?” Greyson asked, his voice deep and rich, like gravel wrapped in silk.

Miray’s heart raced for reasons she couldn’t quite place. As he turned fully toward her, the moonlight illuminated him, and Miray’s breath hitched. He looked... ethereal. His black leather jacket hugged his broad shoulders, the fabric stretched taut over his muscled frame. The scar running from his brow, through his eye, and down to his cheekbone added a ruggedness to his otherwise flawless features. His black hair, slightly tousled, fell across his forehead in a way that seemed effortlessly perfect.

He was beautiful.

And he was looking at her with an intensity that made her stomach flip.

“I... I was just taking a walk,” she stammered, lowering her gaze as heat crept up her cheeks.

Angelo studied her for a moment, his sharp eyes taking in the way her dark hair framed her delicate face,and the vulnerability that lingered in her expression. She looked fragile under the moonlight, like something that could shatter with a single touch.

Greyson’s eyes flicked over her, his expression unreadable. “ Alone and at this hour? How did you convince Max?” he said, raising an eyebrow. 

"Well... umm, he doesn’t exactly know," she admitted sheepishly, looking away, but not before she caught the faintest curve of his lips. “And what about you?” she shot back, her voice steadier now. “What are you doing here?”

His gaze softened, just a fraction. “Sometimes, it’s the only time the world feels quiet,” he said, his tone unusually gentle.

For a moment, silence hung between them, filled only by the sound of the waves. Miray shuffled closer, her curiosity overpowering her caution. As she approached, Greyson couldn’t help but notice the way the moonlight caught in her dark brown eyes, giving them a warm, almost golden glow. Her black hair framed her delicate features, the soft curve of her lips, and her small frame seemed fragile against the vastness of the night.

He swallowed hard, looking away as if the sight of her was too much. She was mesmerizing, even if she didn’t know it.

“Still sneaking out, I see,” he said, his voice laced with playful sarcasm.

She frowned, crossing her arms. “You’re one to talk.”

Greyson chuckled lowly, the sound sending a strange warmth through her. “Touché"

Miray walked to the edge of the cliff, standing beside him. The proximity made her acutely aware of his presence—the faint scent of cedar and leather, the way his shoulder brushed against hers when he shifted.

“So,” Greyson began, his green eyes scanning the horizon. “Are you seeing anyone?” he asked, his tone nonchalant, though there was an edge of something unspoken beneath it.

Miray blinked, caught off guard. “W-what?”

“You know,” he said, glancing at her with a faint smirk. “A boyfriend? Someone to keep you out of trouble?”

She frowned, her cheeks heating. “No,” she said quickly. “I’m... not really interested in that right now.”

"What about that guy at the restaurant? Do you like him?" he asked, his voice tinged with jealousy.

Miray chuckled softly, shaking her head. "No, he's just a friend," she said, her tone light and playful.

“Good,” Greyson said simply, though he didn’t elaborate.

Miray tilted her head, studying him. “What about you? Anyone special?”

He let out a low laugh, shaking his head. “Nah. Not really my thing.”

The air between them grew lighter, the initial tension fading. They talked about little things—music, movies, even childhood memories. For a moment, it felt like the world had shrunk down to just the two of them.

But then, a single raindrop landed on Miray’s hand, followed by another. Before they knew it, the heavens opened, rain pouring down in heavy sheets.

“Perfect,” Miray muttered, trying to shield herself with her arms.

Greyson shrugged off his leather jacket, draping it over her shoulders before she could protest. “You’ll catch a cold,” he said, his tone matter-of-fact.

“But now you’ll get cold,” she argued, trying to hand it back.

He stepped closer, his green eyes locking onto hers. “I don’t get cold,” he said simply. “Keep it.”

The warmth of his jacket and the scent of leather made her heart flutter. She nodded, pulling it tighter around her as the rain soaked through her hair.

“Come on,” Greyson said, gesturing to his motorcycle. “Let’s get you home.”

Miray hesitated, shaking her head. “I'm fine, I'll walk home."

"What? Are you scared of me?" he teased.

"No," she replied quickly, though her heart betrayed her. She was scared of him... but, deep down, she couldn’t deny that she liked it.

He leaned in closer, his smirk widening. "Come on, principessa, I'm not going to bite," he said, his voice low. "Not until you say so."

Her cheeks flushed, a mix of irritation and something else bubbling inside her. Flustered, she glared at him and muttered, "Fine", climbing on awkwardly.

“Hold on,” Greyson instructed, starting the engine.

“What?” she asked, confused.

He turned, his face inches from hers. “If you don’t want to fall, hold on tightly,” he said, his voice low, almost teasing.

Miray hesitated before wrapping her arms loosely around his waist.

“Not good enough,” Greyson said, grabbing her hands and pulling them tighter around him. The motion brought their faces even closer, his breath mingling with hers. Their bodies were pressed together now, and she could feel his warmth radiating through the leather of his jacket.

For a moment, neither of them moved. His green eyes bore into hers, and she felt the world tilt slightly. She wasn’t sure if it was from the rain, the proximity, or the way her heart was hammering in her chest.

Greyson cleared his throat, breaking the moment. “Ready?” he asked. She could hear his breath, feel the slight rise and fall of his chest as he revved the engine, ready to take off. As he turned his head to look ahead, Miray’s gaze lingered on him. 

“Yeah,” she whispered.

As the engine roared to life and they took off into the night, she couldn’t help but feel a rush. The rain kept falling, but it didn’t matter. She was in his arms, and for some reason, that felt safer than anything else in the world.

When they finally reached her house, Greyson slowed the bike and stopped in front of her gate. He didn’t immediately turn off the engine but instead waited as Miray slowly dismounted. She looked at him, and for a brief moment, neither of them spoke. There was an unspoken understanding between them, a silent acknowledgment of something that neither could put into words.

“You good?” he asked, his voice steady but tinged with something deeper, something more vulnerable than she was used to hearing from him.

Miray nodded, her heart still racing, her hands trembling from the adrenaline. "Yeah. Thanks for the ride," she said, her voice quieter than usual.

Greyson remained on the bike, watching her, his green eyes never leaving her face. “I’ll wait until you’re inside,” he said, his voice low, almost protective.

Miray smiled faintly, feeling a warmth she hadn’t expected. “I’ll be fine,” she reassured him.

He didn’t move until she reached the front door, only when she waved him off did he speed off into the night, the roar of his bike fading into the distance.

Miray stood in the doorway for a moment, her thoughts racing. The night had been full of moments that made her heart flutter, but there was something else beneath it all—a pull she couldn’t quite explain. She was lost in her thoughts, replaying every glance, every touch, and before she realized it, she was lying in her bed, staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep. The rain outside was still falling steadily, the sound almost soothing, but it couldn’t drown out the thoughts of Greyson.

Meanwhile, as Greyson drove back to his place, his thoughts were equally occupied. He couldn’t shake the feeling of her presence, her warmth against his back, her arms wrapped around him. He had ached for that closeness, and now he wasn’t sure how to handle the way it had left him feeling. Something had shifted tonight, and it was something he wasn’t ready to let go of.

Both of them lay awake that night, lost in their thoughts of each other, unable to shake the memory of the rain-soaked ride or the quiet moments that passed between them. They had been drawn to each other in ways neither had expected, and it was only the beginning