Max's POV

Every sensation heightened around me—the soft tremor of her breath, the delicate rise and fall of her chest, the heat radiating between us. My heart pounded in sync with hers, or so I thought.

My senses took full notice of every reaction I received from her. I had to be careful, so very careful. Deep down, I was still terrified to my core.

I couldn't bear the thought of causing her even the slightest pain.

I was hyperaware of her every move. She was responsive—god, so responsive to my every touch, pulling me in every time I attempted to pull back. And I got lost, so lost in her, in her intoxicating scent, her sweet taste, the velvet softness of her skin, the beautiful sounds she made, and the feel of her pulse beneath my fingers. God, I've never felt anything as intense before. Never.

When she came on my lips, I almost lost it right there like a damn teenager all over again.

I groaned when I pushed inside her, just a little at a time, easing and allowing her to adjust. I didn't think I could hold on much longer. Every part of me was straining, almost painfully. Slow and gentle weren't one of my virtues but I held back. I was about to fully push in when I noticed how she pressed her eyes so tight, so harshly, as if to blind herself from this. That's when I realized how she froze beneath me, going rigid, and almost numb.

"Valerie?" I whispered, my voice hoarse as I tried to understand her body language.

But she didn't answer me.

My breath hitched as the pulse in her neck changed under my touch. My heart stuttered in my chest so painfully at the sight of the sudden silent tears dripping down the corner of her closed lids.

Panic gnawed at the edges of my mind. Oh no, no, no. I chanted in my head, quickly withdrawing out of her, the loss of her warmth felt like ice slicing through me.

"Valerie?" I tried again, my voice softer, more desperate. My hands shook as I brought them up her delicate face, cupping it in my palms, softly caressing her cheek, brushing against her temple, and kicking those hot warm tears away.

She flinched at my touch, wrenching her face away, and I shattered. It was like the sharpest of knives to my chest, a wound I couldn't touch.

Her eyes weren't seeing me anymore; she was staring into a nightmare I couldn't reach. Her breaths came shallow and rapid, panic written across every inch of her face. My heart splintered, helpless as I watched the girl I loved with every little bit of me slip into a dark place beyond my reach. Because of me.

She curled onto her side, knees drawn up tightly to her chest, her body shaking with quiet, gut-wrenching sobs. It was as though she was trying to fold herself away from the world, from me, from the ghosts that had taken hold of her mind. She sobbed quietly and I lost my fucking mind.

"Valerie," I whispered again, moving closer to her, desperately trying to bring her back to me but she whimpered in fear and pain. She made a wounded sound when I touched her and curled tighter into her body.

Fury roared in my chest, a dark, primal force surging through me. It brought out the darkness I hated, the one I tried to escape from and control. Resentment, hot and poisonous, coiled deep in my gut. How much had she endured to be trapped like this? How many nights had she faced this alone?

He was a dead man walking. I wasn't going to wait, wasn't going to think rationally like they kept telling me to. Logic meant nothing when he was free, breathing, walking through life while she was here—broken, hurting, haunted.

But not now. Not yet. I had to bury that rage, bury it deep because right now, she needed me, what mattered most was Valerie.

I will let my anger out, I will spill his blood later, but now I need to pull her out of this.

Quickly pulling my pants back on, I returned to the bed, inching toward her body in cautious, measured moves. She lay there, eyes tightly shut, her body rigid—each muscle drawn tight as if bracing for an invisible blow.

"Valerie," I whispered, my voice barely audible to my own ears. Her face scrunched tighter, pressing her eyes closed as though she could disappear into the darkness behind them. She was slipping further away, sinking into a place I couldn't follow. But I wouldn't let her drown there.

"Hey," I tried again, softer, my hands trembling as they reached out. She whimpered, flinching violently away from my touch, and the sound cut through me like a blade, "I'm not going to hurt you, Valerie. I swear, I'd never—" My voice cracked as I tried to soothe her down calmly.

"No, no...please, no," She gasped through her tears, still attempting to push me away. 

Moving a little closer, I whispered, "Valerie, open your eyes, please, look at me."

My words made her tense even more. Her hands fisted and she recoiled away from me but I quickly wrapped my arms around her waist, pulling her to my body. She let out a sharp cry that demolished something in me but I kept pressing forward, I had to. When her body made contact with mine, almost like she felt it, she froze, her hand landed flat on my chest but she didn't push me away.

"I am here, right here," I said into her hair, "I won't let anything bad happen to you, never again, I promise, I am right here," My voice came out scratchy, barely holding on as tears stung in my eyes and I kept on fighting them back. I left a small kiss on her temple, my lips lingering there for a long moment, "Please look at me."

She didn't open her eyes, but she melted into me, her body folding into my embrace, seeking shelter from the storm raging inside her. Her hand trembled against my chest, and I wrapped my fingers around it, holding on as if I could steady her world. "It's me, Valerie. It's Max. You're safe. You'll always be safe with me." My voice broke, the tears I'd fought so hard to hold back blurring my vision, blinding me and I couldn't handle it anymore. I was slipping, too—drowning in the helplessness, the pain of watching her suffer, "We'll get through this together. I promise."

A quiet, fractured sigh escaped her lips as she buried her head deeper into my chest and she sniffled. I tightened my arms around her, pulling the duvet over us, trying to shield her from the cold, from the past, from everything that could harm her.

We sat in silence for minutes that felt like hours, her quiet sniffles the only sound between us. I smoothed her hair back, tucking it behind her ear, pressing another soft kiss to her temple.

Then, so faint I almost didn't hear it, she whispered into my chest, her voice broken and lost, "I'm sorry."

My heart clenched painfully. I shook my head, "No, Valerie, you have nothing to apologize for," The words rushed out of me, my hand moving to her cheek, below her chin, trying to gently urge her head backward so I could see her. When her broken tearful gaze met mine, my throat got clogged up and I shook my head again, "I am sorry," I mumbled, apologizing for everything and everyone, for every fucked up thing that happened to her, for the fact that I didn't know her back then, couldn't help her when she needed me most.

I traced my thumb gently over her cheek, wiping away the fresh tears streaking down her face. My fingers brushed the corner of her mouth, trembling with the weight of all the things I couldn't say—of all the wounds I couldn't heal.

Closing my eyes for a brief moment, I swallowed hard, forcing down the torrent of emotions clawing for release. I couldn't break. Not now. Not when she needed me to be the one steady thing in her world. When I opened my eyes, I reached for her sweater lying near the bed. Gently, I moved and draped it over her shoulders, letting the fabric fall around her fragile frame and cover her upper body.

Carefully, I eased her back onto the pillow, my arms slipping away from her waist. Her fingers shot out, gripping my arm like a lifeline, her knuckles white, her eyes flashing with fear. She thought I was leaving. The silent plea in her eyes tore through me.

I offered her a small, reassuring smile, my hand covering her trembling ones. "I'm not going anywhere," I whispered, pressing a kiss to her shaky fingers, "I'll just get you a glass of water, okay?"

She stared at me, searching for something, for a very long second, then, she nodded, slowly retreating her hand to wipe away the fresh tears that wouldn't stop falling. I stood, slipping my shirt on, my gaze lingering on her as she curled into herself, seeking shelter from invisible shadows. I forced myself to turn away, each step out of the room heavier than the last.

In the kitchen, I stopped, my hands fell on the counter, fingers curling into the edges like I could hold myself together if I just gripped hard enough. My eyes slammed shut, the fury inside me surged like wildfire, bubbling and desperate for an outlet. I wanted to scream, to break something, to obliterate the invisible enemy that haunted her.

A suppressed, guttural groan escaped my throat as I slammed my fist onto the counter, trying to feel pain, anything that could take over the loud chaotic mess surging through my brain. My jaw clenched so tight it ached and I took a deep breath, forcing my hands to steady as I moved and filled a glass of water.

Returning to the room, I found her where I left her, eyes distant, body curled in on itself like she was trying to vanish. I crossed the room slowly. Careful. I sat on the edge of the bed, urging her to lift her body up just enough so she could drink.

Her hand was trembling as she reached for it. I steadied it for her, guiding the glass to her lips, watching as she took small, cautious sips. Each movement was fragile, like she might shatter if the world pressed down too hard.

When she finished, I set the glass aside and slipped back into bed beside her. I wrapped my arms around her again, pulling her close. She melted into me, her face buried in my chest, each shaky breath a tremor I felt deep in my bones. My fingers traced gentle, soothing paths through her hair, soft whispers in a language only she needed to understand.

"Try to sleep," I murmured, my voice barely holding back the weight of everything I couldn't say. She clung tighter, each uneven breath ripping me at the seams. I tightened my hold, wishing I could draw her pain into me, let it tear through my heart instead of hers.

"Just rest, I've got you," I whispered again.

Minutes passed, stretching like hours, and her breathing softened, steadying as the storm inside her eased. She drifted off, the tension in her body melting away, her chest rising and falling in a peaceful rhythm.

But I didn't sleep. Couldn't. Wouldn't.

I stayed still, waiting—counting each breath, making sure the calm was real. An hour passed before I dared to move. Gently, I eased her back into the mattress, tucking the duvet up to her neck. I brushed a strand of hair from her face, lingering for a moment, memorizing the peace that settled over her beautiful face.

Silently, I got up. I grabbed my jacket, my eyes lingering on her one last time before I clicked the door shut behind me.

I walked to the main door and left the house, making sure I made no noise. Outside, the cold air hit me like a slap, sharpening the focus I needed. My hand reached for the car handle when a voice broke the silence.

"Max?"

Leo's voice echoed from behind me. My hand froze, the world pausing for a second before I turned to face him.

"Yeah," I muttered, my tone flat.

His confused gaze flickered around then to me, "Everything alright?" He asked, trying to understand why I was leaving when it was almost midnight.

"Yeah. Just need to get home," My cold voice left no room for questions, "See you."

Without waiting for a reply, I slid into the driver's seat and fired the engine to life. The low growl of it matched the fury simmering beneath my skin. I pulled away, my mind already ten steps ahead.

Firstly, I reached the bunker. I punched in the code, the heavy metal door sliding open with a hiss. I walked inside with determined steps. It was empty at this hour and I headed to Nikolas's office. I walked behind his desk, leaning across it as I switched the computer's screen on. I've been here uncountable times by now and I've watched him type the password almost a hundred times. I've memorized it, knowing very well how I'll need it one day soon.

I logged in, and the screen lightened up. I wasted no time, my fingers flew across the keyboard, pulling up the system Jeremy had created—tracking every move David made. Calls. Messages. Credit card transactions. It was all there.

I scanned the data, my eyes narrowing as I found it: a recent transaction. A bar; The Rusty Anchor. Ten minutes ago.

I didn't waste another moment. I grabbed the address, the paper barely slipping into my pocket before I was out the door.

The engine roared to life again, tires spinning against the gravel as I shot down the road. My focus was razor-sharp, the city lights blurring past me. Each turn, each beat of my heart, pulled me closer to one truth; this ended tonight.

The Rusty Anchor loomed in the distance, neon lights cutting through the darkness. I parked the car a bit further away. Without an ounce of hesitation, I leaned forward and opened the glove box. I pulled out the cold metallic weapon Nikolas had given me a while back. I tucked it into my waistband before I went down. At the trunk, I grabbed the black cap stashed away, pulling it low over my head. The snap of the trunk closing echoed too loud as I moved forward.

The bar door creaked open, the stale smell of sweat, spilled beer, and smoke hitting me like a wall. Dim lights hung low, casting murky shadows across faces I didn't need to know. Laughter clashed with the hum of an old jukebox, masking the undercurrent of whiskey and desperation. The floorboards groaned under my steps as I made my way to the bar.

Sliding onto a stool, I signaled the bartender with a glance and ordered a drink. I didn't need the drink, but I needed to blend in. The glass landed in front of me, untouched, my fingers curling around it just for show. My gaze scanned the room, calculated and cold, absorbing everything—the flicker of the old TV in the corner, the couple arguing in hushed tones, and the guy passed out at a table.

Then I saw him.

He sat in the far corner, slouched but alert, his laugh cutting through the din. Two guys sat next to him and indulged in a conversation as they sipped on their drinks. My muscles coiled, every nerve locked onto them, my vision narrowing.

The air thickened. The beat of the jukebox faded, replaced by the thrum of blood in my ears. My fingers twitched, instinct pulling me into focus. I leaned back, the furious predator in me settling into place.

My gaze flickered to my right when the smell of cheap perfume hit my nose. My eyes fell on the woman who took a seat next to me, one stiletto dangling off the barstool, shifting restlessly. Her makeup was thick, layers of foundation failing to mask the exhaustion in her eyes. Platinum hair framed a face that had learned to smile too quickly.

Everything about her screamed it; the half-hearted glamor, the practiced sway of her shoulders, the empty hunger in her eyes. A working girl, putting on a show the world no longer watched.

She turned, lips painted in a color too bright for this room, flashing me a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. Putting on a similar show, my lips curled into half a smile, giving her an invitation. That was all it took. She leaned closer toward me, her manicured nails tapping over the wooden surface, "For a hundred, I'll let you do anything you want to me," She said, getting right into business.

Her offer hung in the air, hollow and mechanical. The lines on her face hinted at years of running the same play. Hell, she could easily be my mother's age. I pulled out my wallet, sliding out five crisp bills. "And for five hundred?" I raised an eyebrow, my voice smooth, almost bored.

Her eyes widened, hunger flashing briefly. The smile returned, practiced and hollow, "For five hundred?" she repeated, her gaze flicking between me and the money, "I'll do anything for you."

I leaned in, voice dropping, "Good. See the guy with blonde hair, black sweatshirt, far left corner behind me?" I didn't need to look; my focus remained locked on her.

Her gaze flickered behind me, her eyes drifting around, searching for the intended person. She paused and nodded, "Yeah?" She said, confused as she looked back at me.

I moved my drink closer to her, "All I want from you is to walk next to him while you are drinking this and then accidentally spill it all over his shirt," I said, stressing on the word. She squinted, trying to spot the hidden catch, brows drawn together, "That's it?"

I nudged the bills forward, "That's it."

Confusion lingered, but greed overruled. With a casual shrug, she tucked the money into her bra, grabbed the glass, and stood. Tilting it toward me, she forced a brighter smile, "Cheers."

I watched as she sauntered across the room, the practiced sway of her hips belying the tension in her shoulders. She moved past his table, feigning a stumble, the glass tilting just enough. Amber liquid cascaded over his sweatshirt, seeping into the fabric.

"The fuck!" David jolted upright, eyes flickering between anger and drunken confusion.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," she slurred, staggering closer, hands hovering uselessly over the mess. She made a show of dabbing at his chest, each motion winding him tighter. His frustration flared, "Get the hell away," he snapped, shoving her back and grabbing a napkin to clean himself.

She glanced over her shoulder, her eyes meeting mine. A sly, knowing smile. A wink. Then, she walked away, melting back into the crowd, her mission accomplished.

David muttered curses under his breath, excusing himself from the table and heading for the restroom. That was my cue, I paid for my drink, got up to my feet, and followed him.

I slipped inside, my eyes trained on him as he stood by the sink, "Dammit," he grumbled, wetting a paper towel, rubbing at the stain with a scowl, and attempting to clean himself. He didn't see me yet, didn't notice me, too busy in his head, in the haze of alcohol and anger.

I slipped off the cap, the soft rustle enough to draw his attention. His eyes flicked to the mirror, his eyes meeting mine, lines tightened between his brows, recognition almost flashing but I gave him no chance.

I closed the distance in one stride, my hand fisting in his sweatshirt, yanking him back. The shock barely had time to register before my fist collided with his jaw. The sickening crack echoed, a grim prelude to the symphony of vengeance playing out in my veins.

The moment my fist connected with his jaw, he stumbled back, a guttural curse escaping his lips. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, eyes narrowing as they flared with rage, "You fucking shit," He grumbled and swung wildly, his movements sloppy from the alcohol. I sidestepped with precision, my muscles coiled and ready, giving him zero chance to get the upper hand. I've been preparing for this moment for way too long.

"Is that all you've got, you fucker?" I hissed, circling him. My voice was low, dangerous—each word dripping with the fury I'd buried for too long.

He lunged, throwing a hook aimed at my ribs. I blocked it effortlessly, grabbing his wrist and twisting it sharply. A grunt of pain escaped him. I drove my knee into his gut, the impact folding him forward. He gasped for breath, wheezing, but I didn't let up.

"What did you think," I spat, shoving him back, "That your sins will go unpunished. For how long?"

He staggered, regaining his balance, eyes wide and wild. He charged again, desperation fueling his steps. I dodged, it was almost too easy, my fists landing two quick blows—one to the side of his face, the other square in his stomach. He reeled, crashing into the sink. the sound of his agony the sweetest melody to my ears.

David gripped the porcelain edge, spitting blood onto the tile. His chest heaved, eyes flicking up to meet mine in the mirror's reflection, venom dripping in his voice, "That bitch sent you after me..." he snarled, breath ragged.

I didn't answer. Words were meaningless now.

I closed the distance, fingers tangling in the back of his hair. With a brutal yank, I slammed his head forward into the mirror. The glass shattered, spiderweb cracks splintering outward. Shards rained down, some embedding in his skin. He let out a strangled pained growl, blood streaking from fresh cuts.

David tried to push back, hands flailing, but I caught his wrist, twisting it behind his back. I pressed his face against the broken mirror, the jagged edges biting into his cheek, "You don't get to walk away this time."

He struggled, his voice barely making it out, "You think this changes anything?"

I leaned in, my voice a low, dangerous whisper, "This changes everything," I hissed, determined, "You die tonight."

I released his arm just long enough to turn him around and drive my fist into his guts, aiming for where it would hurt the most, the force of it made him collapse to his knees. He gasped, choking on air, the fight draining out of him.

I stood over him, chest heaving, my fists bloodied and raw. The room was silent except for his labored breathing and the soft drip of blood onto the tiles. My hands trembled—not with fear, but with the crushing weight of what I had done. What I was about to do. If it meant keeping her safe, I'd go further than this. Much further.

David coughed, spitting a thick, crimson streak onto the floor. He wrapped an arm around his battered ribs, barely propping himself up. His red-rimmed eyes lifted to mine, venom still simmering beneath the surface. Even broken, he wore that twisted, mocking grin that made my blood boil.

"You think you're her savior?" he rasped, voice dripping with malice, "She was nothing but a broken toy. Pathetic, really. The way she begged—"

Before he could finish, rage erupted in me, a storm so violent it threatened to consume every shred of control I had. The room shrank, the edges blurring as my vision narrowed to him alone. I bent down, gripping his chin, forcing his bloodshot eyes to meet mine, "Don't you fucking say a thing," I grated out.

He coughed again, a sick, wheezing laugh escaping. His eyes flickered with pain, but defiance smoldered there too, "You can't erase it. You can't change what happened." His breath hitched, a grimace twisting his features, "No matter how hard you hit me."

I wasn't about to allow him to talk more. I grasped the neck of his sweatshirt, steadying him enough as my fist crashed into his face, the sound of bone against bone echoing through the bathroom. Blood spurted from his nose, from every opened wound I inflected, but I didn't stop. Another punch, then another, each one fueled by the image of Valerie—the pain in her eyes, the tears she shed, the way she clung to me, how she flinched away, trembling.

Nikolas's voice echoed in my head, asking me to stay in control, to not let the anger take over. I tried to fight through it, to grasp at the edges of control. I tried to breathe. Breathe. Breathe...In. Out. In. Out. The effort was like trying to hold back a hurricane.

"You don't get to talk about her," I snarled, my voice ragged, chest heaving. I grabbed a fistful of his hair, yanking his head back so he had no choice but to look at me. With my free hand, I pulled the gun from my waistband, the metal cold and heavy. I pressed the barrel beneath his chin, my fingers wrapped around it like a lifeline.

My heart pounded, each beat echoing in my ears. My finger hovered over the trigger, trembling. One pull, and this nightmare would end. One pull...

David's swollen lips curled into a half-smile, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. "Let me guess," he rasped, eyes half-lidded, on the verge of losing consciousness, "First time?"

His words clawed at me, each syllable dripping with disdain. He snickered, the sound choked and hollow, "I've killed before," he continued, voice fading in and out. Blood dripped with each word, staining the floor between us. "It's not as bad as they say, you know."

The gun pressed harder against his jaw, the cold steel an extension of the fury coursing through me. His eyes met mine, dark pools of hatred and brokenness.

"Do it," he whispered, almost taunting, mocking me.

I tightened my grip, every muscle in my body coiled, ready to snap. My chest heaved, the air thick and unsteady. His words, his face, every memory of Valerie's pain—it all spiraled together into one raw, unbearable storm.

I hesitated. I fucking hesitated. The notion broke me down more than I could've ever imagined. He is in my hands, one pull, one bullet, one life...One life only. What would be the worst thing to happen after? I should be able to do it. I should.

But my fingers froze, my heart pounding so violently I thought it might shatter. My whole body shook, not from fear, but from the overwhelming weight of a decision I couldn't make. A raw, guttural groan tore from my throat, bouncing off the grimy walls, a sound born of frustration, agony, and something I couldn't name.

I ripped the gun away, my grip white-knuckled. With a fierce, harsh motion, I slammed the butt of it into his temple. The crack echoed, sharp and final, his eyes rolling back as his battered body crumpled to the blood-streaked tiles. I stood over him, my chest rising and falling in a frantic rhythm, my fists trembling at my sides.

My hands pressed into my temples, the heels of my palms digging in as if I could squeeze the chaos out. Why can't I do it? The question burned, searing through every fiber of my being. I should pull the trigger, should end him here and now. Why the hell can't I?

Before I could make my next thought, footsteps echoed in the hallway outside—heavy and close. His friends, I supposed. I snapped back into focus, shoving the gun into my waistband. I grabbed the cap from the floor, tugged it low over my face, and jammed my bloodied hands into my pockets, the sticky warmth of blood soaking the fabric.

I strode out of the bathroom just as they barreled in, my shoulder brushing one of them. I didn't look back. The door swung shut behind me, their panicked voices muffled but rising.

Before they could put two and two together, I was already out of the bar.

•────•°•❀•°•────•

Valerie's POV

My head was pounding, the kind of ache that rattled through my skull and made every nerve feel raw. My muscles screamed in protest, every inch of me throbbing as though I'd been broken and put back together wrong. A low groan bubbled up from my chest as I blinked my eyes open, the room spinning for a second. I pressed my face deeper into the pillow, willing the overwhelming wave of confusion to subside.

Everything was a blur. Like I was missing pieces—fragments of a puzzle I couldn't quite piece together. I rubbed my eyes, desperate for clarity, and then turned in bed, only to find the space next to me empty.

My heart lurched almost instantly. His absence hit me like a physical blow. My breath caught in my throat, memories flashing through my mind like shards of glass. I could barely even hold them together as they sliced at me. My skin crawled, my shame pressing down on me with the weight of a thousand memories I didn't want to face.

I shut my eyes, pressing my palms into my face, as if trying to bury what I couldn't forget, what I couldn't undo. The pain in my chest was suffocating, a steady throb that had no release.

My heart was pounding in my chest now, like it might explode. I forced myself to sit up, my body stiff and uncooperative, the disorienting haze not fading. Slowly, I looked around, searching for Max. He was here, he slept beside me. Did he leave me?

My chest pressed so tight, my gaze falling on the nightstand where his phone was resting.

I froze. His phone. This means...He's still here. He has to be.

My eyebrows pulled closer and I moved closer, taking it into my hands to make sure that it was his. The screen flashed with the cutest wallpaper ever of a very young baby him with his sister. My heart almost calmed down before my eyes took notice of the time. It was two hours after midnight.

I licked my lips, the dryness catching in my throat, and I placed the phone back down. My fingers brushed over it before I pushed myself up, suddenly aware that I was only wearing my oversized sweatshirt. I quickly found a pair of sweatpants, slipped them on, and made my way out of the room, my heart thudding like a drumbeat in my ears.

I knocked over the bathroom door before I opened it. It was empty.

Confusion tightened the lines over my forehead and I moved around the house, searching for him. He wasn't here. I paused by the hallway, confused and slightly panicked all of a sudden. His phone is here, where else could he be right now?

A sense of dread filled me as I paused in the hallway, my heart racing as every worst-case scenario began to play out in my head. My mind spiraled, drowning in fear as I counted, trying to ground myself, but my pulse only quickened. Something was wrong. I could feel it.

Before I could dwell further, I opened the door and looked outside, my gaze flickering around, "Leo?" I called for him. I knew he stayed around, but just never saw him, he blended too well into every background, "Leo, are you here?"

Before I could finish, I saw him—he stepped from behind the house, his wary eyes flickering over me, searching, making sure I was okay. But I didn't need checking—I needed answers.

"Did you see Max?" I blurted, barely able to breathe, as the words slipped out in a rush.

Leo looked at me, his face etched with concern, "Yeah, he left...about two hours ago," he said, checking his watch.

"Where did he go?" I shot out quickly.

He shrugged, a slight frown pulling at his lips. "I don't know, but he looked...all over the place," he said, the unease in his tone matching the way my chest felt—tight, constricted.

I swallowed hard, my nails biting into the inside of my palm, the panic quickly escalating. Leo noticed, his brow furrowing and he stepped closer, "Should I call Nikolas?" he asked, sensing the depth of my fear, and the seriousness of what might be.

I didn't want to drag anyone else in, not at this ungodly hour, but I knew. I knew. Something was off, "Yeah, yeah, please," I said, my voice barely a whisper. I felt like I might suffocate, like the invisible walls were closing in on me. If anything happened to him, because of me...I couldn't, wouldn't live with it.

Leo didn't hesitate, already pulling out his phone and dialing.

I extended my hand forward, politely asking for the phone. Without question, he handed it to me, and just as I pressed it to my ear, he spoke, "Leo—"

"Hey, I...uh, I am so sorry to bother you now, but," I started to say.

"Valerie, hey, it's okay, are you alright?" He asked, trying to understand what was happening.

"I am, I am, uh," I looked at Leo, "It's Max—"

Almost instantly, his tone shifted, "What's wrong?"

"I don't know where he is, but...I think he went after David, I am not sure, it's just, we should find him before he does something or he gets hurt," Oh my god, I could barely breathe, "I don't know where he is..."

"Okay, okay, I'll look into it, I'll find him," Nikolas's words were followed by some shuffling sounds, imagining him already getting out of his house, "Just tell me, did something happen?"

My stomach coiled uncomfortably and I nodded my head, "Yeah, something happened," My words were so low, the tears coming back with full force, "It's because of me, it's all my fault."

"It's okay, Valerie, give the phone back to Leo. I'll find him, I won't let anything happen to him, don't worry," he assured. I did as he asked, my fingers trembling as I handed the phone back to Leo. He exchanged a few low words with him before hanging up. The final click of the call echoed in the heavy silence, the weight of it crashing over me like a wave.

Suddenly, it all hit me at once—the fear, the guilt, the relentless, suffocating past that had always lurked in the shadows, waiting for the moment to drag me down. Blood roared in my ears, my vision swimming.

I crumbled. My knees buckled, and I sank to the porch, elbows pressing hard into my thighs as I buried my face in my hands. I couldn't breathe. Each inhale was sharp and shallow, like my lungs had forgotten how to work. The weight of everything I couldn't control, everything I feared I'd caused, pressed down on me until I thought I might shatter.

A few seconds later, the wooden planks creaked softly beside me, and I felt someone sit down. The warmth of a presence pulled me back, just a little. I sniffled, lifting my head, my vision blurred by tears. Leo's face came into focus, his usual stoic expression softened by something else—worry, maybe. Or understanding.

His frown deepened, "No matter what might've happened, Max will be okay, he is a tough kid," He said, his voice softening a bit as he attempted to assure me.

I couldn't manage to say a thing, my voice choked and I shook my head, so scared of everything.

"It's all my fault," I managed to mumble.

Leo's eyes softened, a flicker of sadness in them, "I really doubt that," he murmured.

I wiped at my cheek, my hand shaking. When I turned to look at him again, he was watching me with that wary, hesitant expression—as if afraid one wrong word would break me completely. Maybe it would.

"Will you..." My voice faltered, barely audible. "Will you wait with me? Until he gets back?" I murmured, not planning on getting inside not till I saw him again.

Leo nodded his head. He didn't say anything else, just sat with me all night long, in the cold, the rough wood of the porch digging into us both, silent but steady, as if his presence could somehow keep me from falling apart.

•────•°•❀•°•────•

Nikolas's POV

"What do you mean that you think Max is going to kill David?" Alex's voice, sharp and panicked, cut through the stale air behind me as I stepped into the bunker, flicking on the lights and moving with urgency.

"I'm not sure," I muttered, my voice rough with frustration. I ran a hand through my hair, already moving towards my office, "If he went after David, he would've had to come here first." It was the only thread of logic I could cling to in the chaos swirling in my head.

I powered on the computer, my fingers moving with a sense of desperation. The clicks of the mouse felt louder than they should. As the screen came to life, I keyed in my access code for the cameras.

"What do you think happened?" Alex's voice was sharp with worry, but I could hear the panic buried beneath the control he was trying to seek.

I looked up at him, my stomach knotting tighter, my throat dry, "I have no fucking clue," I admitted, the words bitter on my tongue. I hated not knowing. Not knowing was dangerous.

Alex stepped beside me, his eyes fixed on the screen, scanning the footage as I fast-forwarded through the clips, stopping only when I caught a glimpse of Max.

"Told you," I muttered under my breath, enlarging the screen, watching his silhouette as he walked into my office, his face tense, like he was looking for something—anything. He went behind my desk and powered up my computer, just like I'd predicted.

Alex's brow furrowed, "He's looking for something," he murmured, his voice grim.

"He probably checked where David last was," I mumbled, clicking through the footage, and scrolling past the static. I clicked through the files, scanning for anything he might've left behind. I went to the last visited page and read through the information presented there.

"The Rusty Anchor," Alex read aloud, his voice snapping like a taut wire. "That's a bar. I know where it is. Come on."

Without another word, Alex was out the door and racing to his car, my footsteps heavy and urgent behind him. The drive felt endless; each second dragging, each minute longer than the last. My thoughts were trapped in a loop of worst-case scenarios. What if Max had gone after David? What if he got hurt? What if—

The car screeched to a stop outside the bar. Alex didn't wait. He was out before the engine had fully died, striding towards the entrance like a man on a mission. I followed, the fear in my chest hardening into a cold, determined edge.

Inside the bar, the atmosphere was thick with unease. The smell of stale alcohol and the faint sting of disinfectant filled the air. Two police officers were speaking to the staff, their voices a low murmur, asking questions, and seeking answers that we needed.

Alex and I exchanged a brief, sharp look. Without missing a beat, Alex strode to the bar, waving the bartender over. The man looked like he'd seen better days, "Sorry, but we're closed," He said, his face drawn and weary. His hands were holding a bloodied cloth—one he'd obviously used to clean up some kind of mess.

My heart thundered in my chest, "What happened in here?" Alex asked, the edge in his voice cutting through the tension like a blade.

The bartender's sigh came heavy, like a man trying to push past a memory he didn't want to keep, "Two guys got into it. Bad," he said, his eyes flickering to the back as if he wanted to get away from the thought, "One of them got wheeled out by the ambulance. The other...he just walked out like it was nothing."

Fuck, I had to know which was which, and both options were driving me mad.

Alex's eyes cut to the police officers leaving, their job mostly done. A silent exchange passed between us—he nodded, and I moved closer to the bartender, my hand already twitching toward the gun holstered at my side, "You got security cameras here?" I asked, keeping my voice measured, my eyes trained on the camera in the corner, "We need to see the footage." I had to at least ask nicely first.

The bartender's lip curled in disbelief, "Yeah, right," he scoffed, his eyes darting to the empty tables, "Not happening."

See, nice never works.

I moved faster than I could think, grabbing the front of his shirt, and yanking him forward until he was just inches from my face. My gun was out, cold and sharp against his chest, "You'll show us, or the next blood they'll be cleaning will be yours," I grated out, my voice low, deadly, my jaw ticking as I pressed the barrel further into his chest.

The bartender's eyes went wide, panic flooding his face. He tried to look around for help, but the place was empty—everyone had cleared out. The pressure of the gun against his chest had him gasping for breath, his words coming out in a stutter, "Uh, ok...okay," He mumbled lowly and my glare only hardened, "Okay, okay!" he said again, more convincing and I finally let go of him.

He walked ahead, his steps shaky, fumbling with a ring of keys as he led us to the security room. The door opened, and we were inside before he could say a word. He loaded the footage, but time slowed as the screen flickered. Alex and I watched as Max got into the bar. He sat down briefly, his eyes scanning, calculating, before disappearing down the hallway to the bathroom.

I paused the footage when he was out, zooming in as I caught his bloodied hands. Alex's knuckles whitened as his grip on the desk's edge tightened, his breath a shallow, audible rush. His eyes never left the screen, locked onto the image of Max. Finally, he turned to me, his jaw clenched so tightly I thought it might crack.

Before either of us could speak, Alex moved, his hand clamping down on my arm, pulling me towards the door with a desperate urgency. Outside, the late-night air hit us with a wave, cold and cutting. I yanked my arm free, glaring at him.

"I knew this was going to fucking happen," he spat, his voice raw, each word carrying the edge of blame and fear. His eyes scanned the empty street, as if Max might suddenly appear.

I swallowed past the accusation, because yeah, whether I liked it or not, I've encouraged this. "Where do you think he is now?" I forced the words through gritted teeth, barely holding onto my own control.

Alex's gaze darted around, his mind racing faster than his words. Then, his eyes narrowed with certainty, "I think I know where," he muttered, already heading for the car.

I didn't hesitate. I followed, the roar of the engine and the screech of tires the only sounds in the night as we raced toward him.

•────•°•❀•°•────•

Max's POV

The city lights usually held a kind of magic up here—shimmering, distant, almost peaceful. But tonight, they were nothing more than cold, fractured reflections of a world I wanted no part of. They flickered like dying stars, hollow and cruel. The world was ugly. Brutal. I'd learned that too soon, seen too much to pretend otherwise. Bad people. Bad choices. Everything is stained with dark shadows.

I glanced down at my bloodied hands resting in my lap, the knuckles raw and bruised, thin rivulets of crimson weaving between my fingers, mingling with shards of glass embedded deep. Each throb was a reminder of the fight. A fight I lost, not because I was weak—but because I couldn't finish it.

I had him. Right there. At my mercy, his life in my hands. But I couldn't do it.

The realization twisted inside me, a cold, relentless ache. I hadn't avenged her pain. I'd promised Valerie—I'd sworn I'd make him pay for the pain he'd caused. For every deep scar she carried, for every tear she'd shed. And yet here I was, broken and empty-handed. I'd failed her. I'd failed myself.

A distant rumble of an engine cut through the night air, growing louder. I didn't turn. I already kind of guessed who it could be. I knew they'd figure it out too fast. The car stopped, the silence more deafening than the noise had been.

Footsteps approached, slow and deliberate. Each one echoed, drawing closer until I felt someone sink down beside me at the edge of the hill.

I kept my eyes on the city below, tracing the dark outlines of buildings and streets, the winding roads like veins pumping life into a body that was too far gone. The lights blurred, streaks of brightness swallowed by the night.

I could see Dad's face from my peripheral vision, and could feel the worry vibrating off him. "Don't," I said quietly, my voice barely a whisper against the wind, "Please, don't say anything. Don't tell me that what I did was wrong, don't blame me, don't tell me I lost control, don't tell me I should think more logically."

I shook my head, "There is nothing logical about this situation," My voice hardened, my jaw tightening, "There isn't. Not one fucking thing."

"I know," Dad responded, his voice much softer than I expected.

I turned my head to him, my bloodshot eyes falling into his soft ones. They flickered all over my face, reading everything I couldn't say out loud. I shook my head, "I had him," I mumbled, "He was right there and I couldn't..." My gaze fell to the ground, "I couldn't pull the trigger."

"I told you, Max, it's not easy," Dad said, not blaming me, just presenting facts I knew, "It shouldn't be easy," he added, "Look at you, you are studying to become a doctor, to save lives, how do you expect it to be easy to take one?"

"But he should die," I said, my eyes meeting his, "He should die, he deserves to die," I shook my head, "It's not fair if he keeps on living, Dad, I can't take it, it's ripping me from the inside," Tears rushed back to my eyes, "And if it's hurting me this much, I can't begin to imagine how she must be feeling. I can't, I feel like I am losing my mind!"

My voice got louder, more desperate, I wanted to wail and scream until the world shattered around me. Everything was so twisted, so ugly. I hated it all.

Dad moved closer, his arm slipping around me, pulling me in before I splintered completely. "I know, Max. Believe me, I do," he murmured, his hand cradling the back of my head, guiding it to his shoulder, "And he'll pay. I promise you that." His voice was low, steady, the only lifeline I had in the chaos, "I know it feels like it won't get better, but it will. In some way, it will."

He pressed a kiss to my temple, his hand brushing back the stray strands of my hair. "For now, Valerie needs you. She needs you on her side—not out here, lost in this."

The assurance in his voice seeped through the cracks, almost calming me. I pulled back slightly, my eyes searching his, "Can you take me to her?" I asked, my voice small.

A small smile curled up his lips and he nodded his head, "Yeah, sure, come on."

He stood, extending a hand. I took it, and he pulled me up, his grip strong, grounding. I realized how much I still needed that—him pulling me up every time I fell. He threw an arm around my shoulders, his voice turning playful for my sake, a glimmer of mischief, "Don't ever tell your mother I said this, but..." He paused, "You did a number on him. I'm kind of proud."

A twitch of a smile broke through the darkness. Just enough.

My eyes flicked past him to Nikolas, leaning against the car. His wary gaze landed on me, lingering momentarily on my bloodied hands. He didn't say a word, just held out his hand, palm up and I knew what he was asking for.

I hefted out a loud sigh, moved my arms to the back of my pants, pulled the gun out, and dropped it over his palm, making sure to huff out loudly and dramatically. Without a single word, I walked past him and got into Dad's car.

Dad exchanged a few words with Nikolas. Then he slid into the car beside me while Nikolas took mine. We both drove away, the night stretching long and silent. I sank into the seat, my mind a storm of exhaustion. The weight in my chest was more than tiredness; it was a hollow, crushing ache that pulled at every thought, every breath.

I thought back to Valerie, to how I left her to wake up alone after what happened. The mere notion twisted my gut painfully.

As the car finally slowed by her driveway, the main door of the house flew open. Valerie stepped out, her eyes wild with panic, Leo close behind her. Her gaze darted around, locking onto me the second I stepped out of the car.

Before I could even take a breath, she was running. The world blurred as she crashed into my chest, her arms wrapping around me like she could pull me back from whatever edge I'd been teetering on. I should be the one doing that. I should chase her demons away, not the other way around.

"I was so scared," she choked out, her voice breaking against my shoulder. "You scared me... you scared me so much. Please, never do this again. Don't ever do this again," she pleaded, her words a desperate rush, melting into my skin, into the spaces I didn't know were empty until she filled them.

I closed my eyes, holding her tighter, my head burying itself in the crook of her neck. Her scent wrapped around me, pulling me back to solid ground. I held her like my life depended on it because, God, it did.

It was insane. I loved her. So much it felt like a sickness, an incurable affliction that tore through me with every beat of my heart. I'd never known love could feel this intense, this consuming. It was terrifying. My heart curled in on itself, shrinking and expanding under the weight of it all, terrified of feeling this much at once.

She stepped back, her hands gently cupping my face, fingers trembling against my skin. Her eyes, glossy with unshed tears, searched mine like she was trying to memorize every line, every flaw, every scar. Her thumb traced along my jaw, each touch a silent plea.

Pain twisted her face, "Are you okay?" she whispered, voice barely holding together.

I should've been the one asking her that. "As long as you are," I replied, my words barely reaching above a murmur. She sucked in a shaky breath, her shoulders falling as if the weight of the world had momentarily slipped off them.

Dad and Nikolas stepped closer, and I turned to face them. Dad gave Valerie a soft reassuring smile before locking his eyes on me, "Like I said, not a word to your mother about any of this," he warned, his gaze sharp but carrying a flicker of weary humor. I nodded, assuring him that.

Nikolas's eyes flickered from Valerie to me, "I'll double security," He said, "Just in case," In case he retaliates after what I did, which he definitely will. The thought coiled around my gut like a vice. Without thinking, I reached for Valerie's hand, tightening my grip as if I could shield her from every threat.

"I'm...sorry," Valerie said, her voice small, her eyes full of unspoken guilt. "For all of—"

Nikolas shook his head, cutting her off gently. "You've got nothing to apologize for." His tone left no room for argument.

"Anyway, we should be heading back home," Dad said, throwing me another pointed look, as if to remind me one more time. I nodded, feeling like a kid under his watchful gaze. He turned to Valerie, smiling gently, "Goodnight, Valerie."

"Goodnight," she whispered, a shy, tired smile flickering at the corners of her lips as she waved them off.

As they walked away, I heard their voices fade into a quiet argument—something about who got to drive. I turned around, pulling Valerie with me into the house. Leo was standing by the porch, she looked at him, and her smile softened, "Thanks," she said.

He shook his head, smiling back, "It's nothing," he said. Since when does he smile?

I shot him a glare, he caught it and his eyebrow raised. I ignored him and got in, closing the door and locking it behind us. Valerie was about to say something but her gaze fell into my hands and she gasped, carefully reaching for them, "Oh my god, what did you do?"

Her gaze flickered from them to my face, her brows quenching in sadness. I brought my hand to her face, "I am sorry you had to wake up alone," I said.

She shook her head, her hand coming above mine, "No, Max, I am sorry for everything I am putting you through," She said.

"Don't say that—"

"But it's true, ever since I came into your life, I've only made it worse," She said, and her voice cracked, "I told you, it wasn't going to be easy with me, why didn't you just leave? Why did you stick around? Why did you get me so attached to you?" She added.

"Stop talking about it as if our relationship is a bad thing," I interjected, my tone sharper than intended.

"But it is, it is a bad thing," And here she goes breaking my heart yet again, "Can't you see it, look at yourself, you're barely holding it together because of me. You could've gotten hurt today, again because of me," She shook her head, the tears rushing with full force to her eyes, "He...he will try to hurt you now, and if he succeeds, I'll lose my mind. We can't...we can't keep doing this—"

"Why is it always so easy for you to suggest we break up?" I shot back, interrupting her words, the frustration in my voice matching the ache in my chest.

I dropped my hand away from her, moving further inside and aimlessly into the room, lost in my own storm. I could fight anything, I thought bitterly, except the way she sees us. Apparently, I can do everything but not gain her love.

She followed, her voice chasing me, "That's not it, Max. It's not what I mean."

"Then what is it, Valerie?" I turned, the hurt too raw, too exposed. She tried to reach for me but I pulled back because loving her does hurt, not because of the reasons she said, but only because she wasn't willing to reciprocate it.

She clenched her fists, pressing them to her sides, her eyes squeezing shut, "God, you stupid boy," she whispered, opening them again. The tears made her gaze brighter, sharper, "I'm trying to tell you that I love you!"

•─────────•°•❀•°•─────────•

Hope you liked the chapter :)

See ya soon