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Kai Voss POV

She swayed on her feet, her body folding in on itself as if gravity had suddenly doubled its grip on her. The tension in her shoulders melted away, replaced by a terrifying looseness.

"Luna."

Her name barely escaped my lips before she collapsed.

I lunged forward, catching her just before she hit the pavement. Her weight fell into my arms, startlingly heavy for someone so slender. I crouched, pulling her closer to steady myself, her head lolling against my chest.

"Damn it," I muttered under my breath, scanning her face.

Her skin was pale, paler than it had been only moments before. Dark lashes fanned over her cheeks, and her lips, parted slightly, trembled with shallow, uneven breaths. The sight sent a cold spike of something sharp and unfamiliar through my chest.

I shifted her gently, sliding one arm under her legs and the other around her back. Her body was limp, her dress riding up slightly as I adjusted my grip. My pulse thrummed against my temple as I cradled her closer, the heat of her skin seeping into mine.

The air around us was eerily quiet, the hum of the distant city a faint backdrop to the pounding in my ears. My car was parked only a few feet away, but the distance felt like a chasm. Each step I took with her in my arms was careful, deliberate, my senses hyper-aware of every movement.

When I reached the car, I hesitated. Her head had tilted back against my shoulder, exposing the pale line of her throat. Her hair brushed against my arm, soft and weightless, and for a brief, irrational moment, I didn't want to let her go.

But I had to.

Carefully, I shifted her weight and opened the passenger door. The hinge groaned softly, and I winced at the noise, as if it might somehow disturb her.

"Okay," I murmured to no one in particular.

Lowering her into the seat was harder than I expected. Her limbs were limp, her body uncooperative, and I had to guide her head so it wouldn't hit the edge of the door. Once she was settled, I reached across her to grab the seatbelt.

Her scent hit me as I leaned in—lavender, faintly mingled with something metallic. Blood.

I froze, my fingers hovering just above the buckle. My gaze drifted down, searching for an injury, but the dim light made it impossible to see much. There was no visible wound, no obvious reason for the faint, sharp tang that clung to her.

Her head lolled to the side, resting against the seat. The curve of her jaw caught the light, and I found myself staring longer than I should have.

Stop it.

I pulled the seatbelt across her body, the click of the buckle breaking the heavy silence. Her dress had ridden up again, exposing her thighs, pale and smooth. I adjusted the fabric, smoothing it back into place before stepping away.

Closing the door gently, I took a deep breath, steadying myself. My hands rested on the top of the car as I leaned against it for a moment, trying to collect my thoughts.

The street was empty, silent except for the distant hum of a passing car somewhere far off. I glanced down at her bag, still slung over my shoulder, the strap cutting into my skin.

The weight of her phone inside it was a subtle but constant reminder. A risk. A temptation.

With a low exhale, I moved to the driver's side and slid into the seat.

For a moment, I just sat there, staring at her. The glow of the dashboard illuminated her features, softening the angles of her face. She looked so... peaceful.

Peaceful, but not safe. Not really.

I started the car with a deliberate calm that didn't match the tightness in my chest. The soft purr of the engine filled the silence, a stark contrast to the chaos in my head. She lay beside me, motionless, her breathing shallow but steady.

I glanced at her as I pulled onto the street, the dim glow from the dashboard casting faint shadows across her face. Her head was tilted to the side, resting lightly against the seatbelt. Strands of her hair framed her features, falling in disarray around her shoulders.

She looked fragile.

The kind of fragility that drew you in, made you want to handle her with care even if you didn't quite understand why.

My grip on the steering wheel tightened as I navigated through the quiet streets, my eyes darting between the road and her. The city lights blurred in the distance, their usual brilliance muted tonight. I wasn't taking her to her house. That much was certain.

She'd ask too many questions if she woke up there. Questions I wasn't ready to answer.

The thought of her waking up in my space didn't bother me, strangely. If anything, it felt... right. Necessary.

My jaw clenched as I turned onto the narrow road leading to my house. It wasn't grand, nothing like the towering estate she probably called home. But it was mine. A place that felt real.

As I pulled into the driveway, the motion of the car slowing seemed to stir something in her. Her lips parted slightly, a soft murmur escaping them, though the words were incomprehensible. I hesitated, watching her for a moment before stepping out and moving around to the passenger side.

Opening the door, I leaned in, unbuckling her seatbelt with care. She didn't stir this time, her body limp as I slid one arm under her knees and the other around her back.

She fit too well against me.

Carrying her inside was a careful balancing act, each step deliberate as I adjusted her weight. The warmth of her body seeped through the thin fabric of her dress, a stark contrast to the cool night air.

Once inside, I nudged the door shut with my foot, the faint click echoing through the quiet space. The lights in the entryway were dim, casting a soft glow that guided me to the stairs. Her head lolled against my chest, her hair brushing against my skin with every movement.

By the time I reached my bedroom, my arms ached—not from her weight, but from the effort of holding her so delicately. I pushed the door open, stepping into the room and laying her down on the bed with as much care as I could manage.

She didn't wake, not even when I brushed a strand of hair away from her face. Her lashes fluttered briefly, a soft sigh escaping her lips before she settled again.

I straightened, my gaze lingering on her for a moment longer than necessary. Her dress was rumpled, the hem riding up slightly. It wasn't enough to reveal much, but it was enough to make me uncomfortable. Vulnerable was the only word I could think of.

The room was cool, too cool for her to stay in just that dress. Without thinking, I moved to the dresser and pulled out a pair of sweatpants. They weren't hers, of course, but they'd do.

Sliding them over her legs was a careful process, one that required more focus than I'd anticipated. The fabric bunched slightly as I pulled them up to her waist, covering her bare legs and leaving the dress tucked beneath.

Satisfied, I stepped back, taking in the sight of her in my bed. It was strange, seeing her there, surrounded by the familiar—my sheets, my space. It made her seem smaller somehow, out of place in a way that felt both wrong and right.

I grabbed a blanket from the foot of the bed, unfolding it and draping it over her. She shifted slightly, curling into the warmth, her face relaxing even more.

I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding.

Stepping away, I leaned against the wall, watching her for a long moment. She looked peaceful now, her usual guarded expression replaced by something softer.

I didn't know what she'd think when she woke up here. Hell, I wasn't even sure what I'd tell her.

But one thing was certain—she was safer here. For now.

As I turned to leave the bedroom, something small slipped out of Luna's bag, hitting the hardwood floor with a soft clatter. I paused, glancing back at the object. Her phone. It lay there face down, the sleek black case looking as unassuming as ever, but my heart kicked up at the sight of it.

For a long moment, I just stood there, staring. A part of me wanted to pick it up, place it back in her bag, and leave it alone. But I knew better. I couldn't leave anything to chance—not with her.

I crouched down, lifting the phone from the ground. The screen lit up under my touch, revealing the locked home screen. A photo of her and Grace stared back at me—both of them smiling, carefree. It made my stomach twist in a way I didn't fully understand. She was so good at pretending her life was perfect, wasn't she?

Sliding my thumb over the smooth glass, I tilted the phone in my hand, weighing my next move. Rationalizing it didn't take long. I wasn't invading her privacy. This was necessary. I wasn't doing this to hurt her—I was doing this to protect her, even if she'd never see it that way.

I stepped out of the bedroom and closed the door quietly behind me, leaving her in peaceful oblivion.

Downstairs in my office, I set the phone on the desk next to my laptop. The room was dim, lit only by the glow of the computer screen. The walls were lined with bookshelves, all filled with a mix of literature, psychology texts, and files I'd accumulated over the years. It was the one place in the house where I could always think clearly.

I pulled a USB cable from the drawer, connecting the phone to my laptop. A few keystrokes later, the transfer process began. It was surprisingly fast—her files, messages, photos, contacts, and even location history being pulled onto my system. My jaw tightened as I watched the progress bar fill. This wasn't just about gathering information. It was about understanding her better, figuring out if there was anything she was hiding.

But as the process continued, I found myself staring at her phone again, my mind wandering. What would she think if she woke up and saw me doing this? What would she say?

Probably nothing. She wouldn't even remember where she'd left her phone.

When the download completed, I unplugged the phone and slipped it back into her bag, making sure it was exactly where it had been before. She'd never know it had been touched.

Turning back to my computer, I opened the folder containing the downloaded data. Messages popped up first—a seemingly endless list of conversations. Most were harmless. Grace, her parents, a few other friends. But as I skimmed through them, I couldn't help but feel a strange mix of relief and unease.

Relief because there was nothing here that suggested she was in direct contact with him. Unease because I couldn't shake the feeling that I was missing something. Luna wasn't careless, but Julian? He wouldn't have left a trail this easy to find.

A new thought crossed my mind, and I leaned back in my chair, letting out a slow breath. Was this really about keeping her safe? Or was there a part of me that just wanted to know her, every detail, every thought, every secret?

I shut the laptop abruptly, the sound echoing in the quiet room. This wasn't the time to dwell on those questions.

Pushing back from the desk, I stood and stretched, rolling the tension out of my shoulders. My gaze flicked back toward the ceiling—toward the bedroom where she slept. Whatever truths her phone held, they could wait. For now, I needed to make sure she stayed safe under this roof. Even if it meant keeping secrets of my own.

The house was silent, save for the soft hum of the heater and the faint sound of the wind outside. I'd been awake for hours, sitting on the couch in the dim light of the living room, alternating between keeping an ear out for Luna and letting my thoughts run wild. Every now and then, I glanced at the hallway that led to the bedroom, waiting for the smallest sign of movement.

It was well past midnight when I heard it—a faint groan, followed by the sound of shifting sheets. I straightened immediately, listening. A moment later, the sound came again, weaker this time, almost muffled.

I was on my feet before I could think, crossing the living room and heading to the bedroom. Pushing the door open, I found Luna sitting up, her knees drawn to her chest, her head hanging forward. The soft lamplight cast a faint glow over her pale face, and even from the doorway, I could see the sweat glistening on her forehead.

"Luna?" I called softly, stepping closer.

She didn't respond right away, just let out a soft moan as she pressed a hand to her stomach.

"Hey, what's wrong?" I crouched beside her, my voice low, trying not to startle her.

Her head tilted toward me, and I could see the glassy haze in her eyes. "I—I don't feel good," she murmured, her words slow and slurred.

"Alright," I said gently, brushing a strand of hair from her damp forehead. "Come on. Let's get you up."

She swayed slightly as I helped her to her feet, her body leaning heavily against mine for support. She was practically dead weight, and I had to adjust my grip as I guided her toward the bathroom down the hall. Her bare feet shuffled against the floor, and I kept an arm securely around her waist, steadying her with every step.

As soon as we reached the bathroom, she froze, gripping the doorframe tightly. I barely had time to react before she doubled over, gagging. I quickly guided her to the toilet, holding her hair back as she emptied her stomach into the bowl.

The sound of her retching filled the small space, and I kept a steady hold on her, murmuring soft reassurances that I wasn't even sure she could hear. Her whole body trembled, and I could feel the heat radiating off her skin.

When she finally stopped, she slumped against the side of the toilet, her breathing shallow and uneven. I grabbed a clean towel from the rack, wetting it with cool water before kneeling beside her again.

"You're okay," I said softly, dabbing the towel against her flushed cheeks and forehead. She flinched slightly at the touch but didn't pull away.

Her eyes fluttered open, glazed and unfocused, and she blinked up at me as if trying to piece together where she was. "Where am I?" she mumbled weakly.

"You're safe," I told her, keeping my voice calm. "You're at my place. You passed out earlier, so I brought you here."

She nodded faintly, as if my answer made perfect sense in her delirious state.

Once I was sure she wasn't going to throw up again, I stood and grabbed a spare toothbrush from the cabinet. "Let's get you cleaned up," I said, crouching back down beside her.

She looked at the toothbrush in my hand, her expression dazed but compliant. I carefully squeezed some toothpaste onto it, holding it out to her. "Here, open up."

She blinked at me, her movements sluggish, and I realized she didn't have the energy to do it herself. With a soft sigh, I brought the toothbrush to her lips, brushing her teeth gently. She didn't resist, letting me guide the movements, her head resting heavily against my shoulder.

The moment felt strangely intimate, almost too intimate, but I pushed the thought aside. This wasn't about anything other than taking care of her.

When I finished, I helped her rinse her mouth, holding a glass of water to her lips and tilting it just enough for her to sip. She swallowed weakly, leaning against me for support.

"There," I said softly, setting the glass aside. "Feel a little better?"

She didn't respond, her eyelids already drooping shut. I scooped her up into my arms, cradling her against my chest as I carried her back to the bedroom. Her breathing was slow and steady, her body limp in my hold, and I felt a strange mix of relief and unease settle over me.

Gently laying her back down on the bed, I pulled the blankets up to her chin, tucking her in securely. She shifted slightly, curling onto her side, but didn't wake.

For a moment, I just stood there, watching her. The pale glow of the bedside lamp illuminated her face, softening the sharp angles of her cheekbones and the curve of her jaw. She looked so peaceful, so innocent.

But I knew better. Innocence was just another illusion—one she wore so well that even she believed it.

I turned away, leaving the room and shutting the door softly behind me. As I made my way back to the living room, I couldn't shake the weight of the night's events. Watching her like this—vulnerable, fragile—only solidified my resolve.

I wasn't her enemy, even if it might seem that way if she ever found out the truth. No, I was her shield, her anchor in a storm she didn't even realize she was in. And no matter how much it tore me apart, I'd keep protecting her, even if it meant keeping her in the dark.

The quiet of the room was heavy, broken only by the rhythmic hum of the heating system kicking on. I stayed perched on the edge of my chair, elbows resting on my knees, head bowed as if in prayer. But I wasn't praying. Not for forgiveness, not for guidance. I didn't deserve either, and I didn't need them.

Luna was still asleep, curled up in my bed like some tragic dream. Her chest rose and fell in a soft, steady rhythm, her lips parted slightly as if even in sleep, she had something to say. She looked so small against the expanse of dark sheets, her hair splayed out like ink. Too small for the chaos she carried with her.

I rubbed a hand across my face, exhausted but far from sleep. My mind refused to settle, my thoughts circling the same maddening questions. How much longer could I keep her in the dark? And when the truth finally broke through, what would it do to her?

The sharp buzz of my burner phone shattered the stillness, dragging me out of my spiraling thoughts. My eyes snapped to it where it sat on the desk. For a moment, I didn't move, just stared at the vibrating device like it might explode.

The name wasn't displayed. It never was. But I didn't need to see it. I knew who it was.

Letting out a slow breath, I reached for the phone, feeling its familiar weight in my palm. I hesitated for only a second before pressing accept and lifting it to my ear.

"I was wondering when you'd call," I said, my voice low, steady.

"You've had a busy night," came the smooth reply, the voice as familiar as it was unwelcome. It was calm, too calm, every syllable meticulously controlled. It was the kind of voice that had always made my blood simmer.

"Is there a reason you're checking in?" I asked, leaning back in the chair. My tone was detached, but my grip on the phone tightened.

"I trust she's...safe," the voice replied, ignoring my question entirely.

My gaze drifted toward the bed. Luna hadn't moved. She was still lost in whatever dream her mind had conjured to escape the reality waiting for her.

"She's fine," I said shortly.

"And?"

"And she doesn't remember," I continued, a hard edge creeping into my voice. "She doesn't know anything."

There was a pause, one of those deliberately crafted silences meant to unnerve. It didn't.

"Good," he finally said, his tone cool, dismissive. "She must stay that way."

I clenched my jaw, my patience wearing thin. "I know what I'm doing."

"Do you?" His response was sharp, cutting. "You've let her slip through your fingers before, Kai. We both know what's at stake if that happens again."

My grip on the phone turned knuckle-white, and I had to fight the urge to throw it across the room. He always did this—prodding, testing, waiting for me to crack. But I wouldn't. Not tonight.

"It won't," I said firmly. "She's exactly where she needs to be."

Another pause. I could hear the faint sound of papers rustling on his end, followed by the clink of glass against wood. "She's lucky, you know," he said, his tone shifting to something almost amused. "If it were anyone else, she wouldn't have survived this long."

The words ignited something sharp and bitter in my chest, but I swallowed it down. "If it were anyone else, you wouldn't need me."

There was a faint chuckle, dry and humorless. "Fair enough. Just remember, Kai—her ignorance is her greatest strength. The moment she starts asking questions, everything falls apart. For her. For you. For all of us."

The line went dead before I could respond, leaving me sitting there in the thick silence of the room, the weight of his words settling over me like a shroud.

I set the phone down carefully, my jaw tight, my mind already spinning. He was right, of course. Luna's ignorance was the only thing keeping her safe. But it was also a ticking time bomb.

I glanced back at her, still asleep, still oblivious. She had no idea how deep this went, how far it reached. And I wasn't sure if I wanted her to.

Not yet.

Not ever.

********

I leave Luna in the bed, the faint sound of her slow, steady breathing a reminder of just how fragile everything feels right now. It's too quiet. I need to move, do something to distract myself, let the chaos in my mind settle for just a moment.

I don't even bother to change. I pull on a pair of gym shorts, my bare chest still slick with the remnants of Luna's body heat—her skin, her scent still on my hands. The strange sense of responsibility I feel for her gnaws at me, but it's not just that. There's something else. A tension, something in the air that's been growing. Something I haven't fully realized yet, but I can't stop thinking about.

I slip through the door, down the staircase, and into the lower level of my house.

The gym is cool, dimly lit, with a few bright spots from the scattered overhead lights, casting shadows that stretch long across the concrete floor. The smell of rubber and sweat hangs in the air, familiar, comforting in its own way. I hit the switch by the door, and the lights flicker on, revealing the space: a heavy bag in the corner, a few dumbbells and kettlebells lined up along the wall, a ring in the far corner with a few faded markings on the canvas floor.

I've always trained in this space when things start to spin out of control. It's the only way I know to get out of my head. To stop thinking for a while. To just feel.

I step toward the bag first, my bare feet quiet on the cold concrete floor. My hands are already flexing, itching for the impact. I put the gloves on with swift movements, tightening the straps around my wrists and knuckles. I don't need to think about it. I don't need to wonder if I'm doing the right thing. I just need to hit something.

I launch my first punch at the bag, the sound of my fist hitting it echoing in the space. The bag sways, creaking under the force. I don't bother with precision at first. My mind is still swirling with Luna. With the way she looked when she passed out. With the strange emotions running through me every time I looked at her. The way she seemed so fragile, so trusting, even when she shouldn't have been.

Another punch, harder this time, and then a second. My breath is coming faster now. My knuckles are starting to sting from the force, but I don't care.

I've always been able to compartmentalize my emotions. It's one of the few things I've learned to do well. But right now? Right now, nothing feels compartmentalized. It all feels like it's crashing down around me.

I slam my fists into the bag again and again, each punch harder than the last. The tension in my chest isn't clearing. It's growing. And for the first time in a long time, I'm starting to realize that I don't know if it will ever clear.

My thoughts keep circling back to Luna. To what happened tonight. To how I ended up here, in this mess. And I can't escape it. Not tonight.

I step back from the bag, panting heavily now, wiping the sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand. My body's starting to feel the burn, but my head is still a whirlwind. I don't  stop. I move over to the weights, grabbing a set of dumbbells.

I lift, one rep after another, my arms burning, my focus narrowing. I need this. I need something to take my mind off her, off the way I couldn't pull away from her even though I know I should have.

The weights feel heavier the more I push myself. I let out a breath, adjusting my grip and going for another set. The burn is familiar, almost comforting. This, at least, I understand. The discipline, the structure. The pain that comes with it.

I set the dumbbells down, wiping my brow once more, then head to the heavy bag again. My fists meet it with a force that cracks the air. It's raw, it's real. And for a moment, it almost feels like I can breathe again. But as the tension in my chest loosens just enough to feel it, another thought cuts through.
Luna.

She's still upstairs. Alone.

A shiver runs down my spine. I glance toward the stairs, toward the door that leads back up to the quiet, empty hallway where Luna's sleeping in my bed. I know what I've done. I know where this is headed, and I can't seem to pull myself away from it.

But one thing's certain:

I can't let her remember what happened. Not yet.

Not until I'm ready to tell her everything.

I stop, my heart racing as the weight of the thought settles on my chest.

I'm not sure how much longer I can keep the truth from her.

———————-

Hiii sorry for the late update to make up for it this chapter is 4,500 words!!!

I hope you all enjoyed it!!

What do yall think of Kai?

Anyways love you all have a great day and as always thank you for reading lovelies!! - Willow 💗