Chapter 4

The morning sunlight filtered through the glass windows of Thunder’s penthouse, casting golden streaks across the floor. But the warmth did little to thaw the coldness in Summer’s chest. She stood near the balcony, arms wrapped tightly around herself, staring blankly at the skyline of Toronto.

A few days had passed since she had that emotional breakdown in Thunder’s arms, and even though he hadn’t brought up the proposal again, the memory lingered—unshakable, haunting. Thunder was still the same: gentle when needed, firm when she drifted into fear, and always present. But something had shifted.

Summer could feel it.

A small part of her wanted to run again.

“Coffee?” Thunder’s deep voice called from behind.

She turned her head slowly. His towering figure leaned against the kitchen doorway, two steaming mugs in hand, blue-gray eyes locked onto hers. Despite the simple black shirt and messy hair, he looked devastatingly calm—and it unsettled her.

“Thanks,” she whispered, walking toward him. She took the mug and allowed her fingers to graze his. Thunder said nothing, but the touch lingered just long enough to send a jolt through her spine.

“You didn’t sleep last night,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

Summer took a sip. “Nightmares.”

He nodded. “Oasis again?”

“No.” She lowered her eyes. “Lava.”

Thunder’s jaw tightened. His silence was deafening.

Summer placed her cup on the table and sank into the nearest chair. “He’s coming, Thunder. I can feel it. I saw something… a car following me yesterday. A man watching from the café across the street. He’s not done with me.”

Thunder sat opposite her, fingers steepled beneath his chin. “If Lava Xovert dares touch a strand of your hair, I’ll personally burn his world down.”

“I don’t want war,” she said, voice quivering. “I just want peace. I want… quiet. I’m so tired, Thunder.”

He reached for her hand. “Then let me fight the war for you. You’ve battled alone for so long. Let me take this one.”

Summer looked at him, truly looked. This man wasn’t just her present—he was offering to fight her past.

But before she could respond, the doorbell rang.

Thunder’s brows furrowed. “I’m not expecting anyone.”

He stood up, walking cautiously toward the entrance. Summer’s heart began to race. Her instincts screamed. Something wasn’t right.

Thunder looked through the peephole—then stiffened.

“Stay back,” he said, voice low.

Summer stood, stepping quietly behind him.

He opened the door. A delivery man stood there with a bouquet of black roses.

Summer gasped.

No card. No name. Just an envelope attached with a wax seal—an X.

Thunder took the envelope, closed the door, and tore it open.

One line. Handwritten in blood-red ink.

“If I can’t have her, no one will.”

Summer staggered back, her hand flying to her mouth. The floor felt like it was disappearing under her feet.

“No, no, no…”

Thunder crushed the note in his fist. “It’s time we stop waiting. We make the first move.”

She stared at him. “What do you mean?”

He looked at her with unwavering determination. “We’re flying to Manila. We expose Lava. End this once and for all. But we do it on our terms.”

Her heart pounded. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

He cupped her face gently. “I’d rather bleed for you than let you shed another tear alone.”

Tears streamed down her cheeks, but she nodded. For the first time, she didn’t feel weak. She felt ready.

They spent the night preparing. Calls were made. Flights booked. And confidential documents retrieved from Thunder’s private vault.

It turned out, Thunder Voldizépeña had been preparing for this battle long before Summer even knew it existed.

Security footage, bank records, testimonies. Lava Xovert’s empire had cracks—Thunder just needed Summer to say the word.

And she did.

“I’m done being the victim.”

Two days later, Manila buzzed with its usual chaos: traffic horns, shouting vendors, and the scent of roasted street food in the air.

But inside a luxury hotel suite overlooking the skyline, Thunder and Summer plotted justice.

Their plan was bold—dangerous, even. Summer would let herself be “found.” Lava would take the bait.

And when he did, Thunder’s team would trap him in the very web he spun for her.

But plans rarely go smoothly when old ghosts are involved.

Because unknown to them, Lava already knew she was coming.

And he had a plan of his own.

...Because unknown to them, Lava already knew she was coming.

And he had a plan of his own.

Lava Xovert sat in the shadows of his lavish private estate in the outskirts of Manila, sipping an aged bourbon while watching the live feed from a hidden camera—one installed long ago in a hotel suite that once belonged to Summer’s cousin. He smirked as he watched her figure move about the hotel room, guarded yet visibly determined.

She was still so beautiful, but the fire in her eyes now? That was new.

“She thinks she can outplay me,” Lava whispered, stroking the edges of a black envelope similar to the one Thunder had received. “Poor little bird. You forgot who taught you how to fly.”

A knock came from behind. One of his men entered, bowing slightly.

“Boss, the plane landed as expected. She’s staying at the Sky Imperial Hotel, Room 2703. They’ve tightened security.”

Lava chuckled, standing up. “Security is only a wall for people afraid to die. I am the storm they’re trying to hide from.”

He walked to the wall, revealing a photo of Summer and Thunder—one taken recently. His eyes fixated on the way Thunder held her waist, the way she leaned slightly into his shoulder.

“That man... thinks he can replace me. Like he can rewrite a history soaked in my blood.” He turned slowly, eyes wild with obsession. “I made her. She was mine. And if I can’t break her mind, I’ll break her heart—and him.”

He lit a match and watched the photo burn slowly between his fingers, flames licking at the memory.

The game had begun.

But unlike before, this time—Lava wasn't aiming to win her back.

He was aiming to ruin her soul.