LOGINNoa couldn’t sleep.
Couldn’t think.
The words burned on the screen:
You’ll beg for me soon.
“Fuck you,” he hissed, throat tight.
Fingers shaking, he deleted the message. Blocked the number. Thrown the phone facedown on the nightstand so hard it bounced.
Didn’t help.
Not even close.
His body was still on fire. Every inch of skin thrumming, remembering. Remembering the heat of Alessio’s mouth, the sharp scrape of teeth, the unforgiving grip on his wrists, the whispered filth against his ear. The way he’d been undone and left aching.
“Get out of my fucking head.”
But the ache didn’t go away.
It had its claws in him now.
He locked himself inside for two days.
Curtains drawn. Phone off. World shut out.
Didn’t eat. Barely drank.
Every time he closed his eyes worse.
Dreams, twisted and vivid. Alessio’s hands pinning his wrists above his head. A mouth against his throat, dragging teeth down his skin. Tongue tasting him like a claim.
He’d wake up gasping. Hard. Sheets tangled, hips grinding uselessly against the mattress.
“Goddammit!” The sound ripped out of him.
He stumbled to the shower. Cold water at first.
Didn’t help.
In the end, he cursed and wrapped his fist around himself, panting. Harsh, angry strokes.
Just to take the edge off.
Just so he could breathe.
But when he came, it wasn’t his own face he pictured.
It was his.
Alessio.
Noa bit down on his lip to keep from crying out.
Even then he hated himself.
By the third day, a knock came.
Hard. Controlled.
Noa froze.
That voice followed, low and velvet:
“Noa.”
His breath hitched. No. No, no
“Go away!” he barked, voice rough with exhaustion and something else. Desperation.
“You need air,” the voice coaxed. “You need to move.”
“Fuck off!”
The words felt brittle in his throat.
A beat.
“You need me, Noa.”
A whisper now. Dangerous silk.
“The hell I do!” His nails dug into the drywall beside him.
“Then open the door. Tell me to my face.”
The invitation was a dare. It curled through the air like smoke.
Noa pressed his forehead to the wall. His body trembled with want and rage.
“You’ll come crawling if you don’t,” Alessio murmured. “I’m just giving you an easier option.”
Noa bit down hard on his knuckles. Silence.
A pause. Then “I’ll be waiting.”
The footsteps retreated, deliberate.
Noa sank to the floor, breath catching in his throat.
“Jesus Christ,” he whispered.
Hours passed.
Long, restless hours.
He stalked around the apartment, restless and wild.
“You’re stronger than this,” he muttered to himself.
Liar.
Because by sunset he was dressed.
Hoodie gone. Black shirt. Fitted jeans hugging lean hips. Boots on. Hair pushed back.
As if he were going somewhere.
As if he wanted to be seen.
“Goddammit, you’re sick.”
But when his hand hit the door handle, there was no stopping his legs.
The car was already waiting.
Alessio in the driver’s seat. Window down.
A shark’s smile playing on those wicked lips.
“You didn’t disappoint.”
“I’m not here for you,” Noa said flatly. His heart was hammering.
“Liar.”
Noa swallowed hard. Throat dry.
“One drink,” he forced out. “Then I leave.”
“You’ll stay as long as I want you to.”
The words shouldn’t have sent a pulse of heat through him. But they did.
Noa slid into the passenger seat.
The club tonight was different.
No shadowed corridors. No smoke-choked back rooms.
A rooftop bar, high above the city. Open air. Lights glittering across the skyline like stars.
It was too beautiful. Too exposed.
“You’re changing the game,” Noa said, voice tight.
“I’m evolving,” Alessio replied smoothly.
His gaze flicked over Noa like a brand. Pure hunger.
They sat. A waitress appeared without being summoned. Two glasses of whiskey set down. Neat.
Not a word exchanged.
Noa gripped the glass like an anchor.
Minutes ticked by in charged silence. Every nerve in his body was wired.
Finally he couldn’t stand it.
“Why me?” he asked, voice low.
“You fight me.”
“That’s it?” he snapped.
“No.” Alessio leaned in, voice dropping. “You make me feel. I don’t feel it. Not ever. But with you I’m alive.”
Noa’s breath caught.
For a second, the noise of the city seemed to fade.
“You’re insane,” he whispered.
“Maybe. But I’m yours.”
“I didn’t ask for that.”
“Doesn’t matter.”
The tension between them coiled tighter than steel cable.
Noa lifted the glass to his lips. His hand trembled.
“You keep saying you want me,” he said hoarsely. “You don’t know how to love.”
“I know how to want.”
Alessio’s knee brushed him beneath the table. Deliberate.
A jolt of electricity shot through Noa’s blood.
“And I know you want me too.”
Noa drained the whiskey in a desperate gulp.
“Stop this.”
Alessio’s gaze burned. “Say stop to my face.”
Then he reached out. Fingers curling around Noa’s wrist. Skin to skin.
Noa gasped softly. A traitorous shiver ran through him.
“Say it,” Alessio breathed.
No words came.
Alessio stood.
Fluid. Predatory.
“Come.”
“Where” Noa started.
“Trust me.”
Noa didn’t trust him.
And yet he followed.
The suite upstairs was pure sin.
Low lights. Black sheets. Mirrors gleaming.
A room designed to consume.
Noa’s heart pounded.
“You brought me here to fuck me?” he asked harshly.
“No.” Alessio’s smile was dark. Slow. “To give you a choice.”
Noa’s instincts screamed.
He backed toward the door.
Alessio blocked him, body closed .
“Do you want me to touch you again?”
Noa’s lips parted. No sound emerged.
“Because I will. Unless you tell me no. Right now.”
“Alessio” His voice was raw.
“Say no, Noa.”
A velvet command.
Noa couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move.
“I…”
Alessio’s fingers slid into his hair.
Gentle. Possessive.
“Last chance.”
Noa’s fists clenched at his sides.
“I hate you.”
“Say stop.”
“I… can’t.”
And then Alessio kissed him.
Not rough this time.
Slow. Deep. Consuming.
Noa whimpered. His body betrayed him, arching into the touch.
“Fuck” the curse tore from his throat.
Alessio’s hands mapped his waist. Slide under the shirt. Skin to skin, blazing.
Noa moaned into his mouth.
“You feel this,” Alessio whispered darkly.
“Yes fuck you bastard”
Alessio smiled. Bit the side of his throat.
“You’re mine now.”
Noa clawed at his back. Desperate.
“God help me.”
“You don’t want saving,” Alessio chuckled softly.
Noa’s jeans were too tight. His breath came ragged, panting against Alessio’s mouth.
“Touch me,” he gasped before thought could stop him.
Alessio pinned him to the wall. One hand sliding lower.
“Beg.”
Noa’s hips bucked helplessly.
“Fuck please ” The plea broke from him like a sob.
Alessio’s grin was wicked.
“Good boy.”
His palm cupped him through the denim. Noa cried out.
“So hot for me already.”
Noa’s hips jerked again. His vision swam.
“Please Alessio ” His voice was wrecked.
Alessio leaned close, mouth ghosting over his ear.
“Say it again.”
“Please fuck “
A sharp nip to his earlobe.
“Next time” Alessio promised, voice a purr, “I’ll make you scream it.”
Abruptly he stepped back.
Noa nearly collapsed, legs trembling.
“Why did you stop?” he gasped, wrecked.
“I’m not done playing yet.”
Alessio kissed him once more.
Slow. Cruel.
“Next time, Noa.”
He turned. Left him breathless. Shaking.
Noa slid to the floor.
Hands fisted in his hair.
“Fuck.”
His phone buzzed.
Another message.
You’ll be in my bed tomorrow. Or I’ll take you from yours. Choose wisely.
A~
Noa stared at the screen.
His heart slammed in his chest.
His body ached.
And he had no idea which choice terrified him more.
The world woke up slowly.A pale, honey-gold morning spilled through the tall bedroom windows, touching everything it liked: the soft sheets, the half-open curtains, the messy pile of clothes on the velvet chair, and the two bodies tangled in the center of the king-size bed like they’d grown there overnight.Noa was the first to blink awake… barely.His curls were pushed up in every direction imaginable, like he had lost a fight with sleep itself. His cheek was pressed against Alessio’s chest, one arm flung over his waist, fingers buried in the sheets like he was afraid to let go even now.Alessio didn’t wake easily. He never had. But the moment Noa shifted, his hand slid instinctively into Noa’s hair, rubbing slow circles against his scalp.A low, lazy hum escaped Noa. “Are you awake or is this your sleep-mode autopilot?”Alessio’s voice came out rough morning gravel and quiet warmth.“Sleep-mode wouldn’t bother touching you.”“Oh.” Noa’s lips are curved, small and smug. “So this is
The envelope lay on the table like a fresh wound.Noa hadn’t moved for a full minute after whispering, “My family.”He just stared at the paper, breathing too quietly, hands too still.The kind of still that wasn’t calmIt was shocking wearing a mask.Alessio didn’t touch him, not yet.He knew the difference between giving comfort and overcrowding a wound.But when Noa finally exhaled shaky, uneven Alessio reached out and slid a hand up the back of Noa’s neck, fingers slipping under his hair.Noa leaned into the touch like he’d been waiting for it.“Talk to me,” Alessio murmured.Noa swallowed hard. “It’s not… it’s not all of them. Just one person.”“Who?”“My mother’s brother.”A strained breath. “Milan used to keep him away. I didn’t know how far it went.”That explained the handwriting in Quinn’s note: the cryptic warnings, the protective anger, the terrible choices.Quinn hadn’t been fighting Alessio.He’d been fighting ghosts.And losing.Alessio cupped Noa’s cheek gently and tur
The crack in the doorway widened, and the man stepped fully into the room with the kind of confidence that came from knowing he was the storm, not walking into one.Quinn.Not the Quinn from the early days.Not the Quinn who used to tease Noa for drinking coffee like it was oxygen, whose grin stretched too wide whenever Noa rolled his eyes.Not the Quinn who had walked into their lives pretending to be harmless, pretending to be a friend, pretending to be nothing but a passing breeze in a world full of hurricanes.This Quinn was colder. Sharper.Even the air seemed to change around him. He carried that strange electricity, that eerie calm of a man who didn’t need to raise his voice or lift a weapon to make the room tilt.His eyes weren’t warm; they were calculating, slicing through shadows like blades.His posture wasn’t relaxed, it was commanding, a quiet warning written into the way he stood.And his smile, his damn smile felt like a trap tightening around the throat of anyone who d
The world didn’t breathe with him.For a moment, Alessio wasn’t sure if the ringing in his ears was from the gunshot echo, the shouting, or the way his heart slammed mercilessly against his ribs as he crashed through the broken service corridor door. Dust exploded around him as concrete fragments rolled across the floor, skittering like tiny bones. His vision blurred panic, adrenaline, grief, everything mixing in a way that felt poisonous. His lungs couldn’t decide if they wanted to choke or scream.He didn’t care.He only saw Noa.Pressed against the wall.Hands held behind him.A figure standing too close.Too familiar.The “second man.”The shadow that had stalked them through cities, hallways, forests, phones, and nightmares. A ghost wearing skin. The presence that kept appearing at the edges of surveillance footage, behind half-open doors, reflected in mirrors. The person who had trailed them like something feral with a purpose.A man whose face Alessio hadn’t seen until now.Noa
For a full second, Alessio didn’t move.Couldn’t.His muscles felt locked, like someone had emptied concrete into his veins. The doorway felt too narrow around him, the frame pressing in on either side as if trying to trap him in the moment. Even the air felt wrong, thick, unmoving, heavy in a way that pressed against his chest and made each breath drag too slow, too sharp.And Noa Noa stood there with that wrong, practiced, emotionless half-smile that didn’t belong anywhere near his face. His pretty mouth curved in a way Alessio had never seen, stiff at the edges, hollow everywhere else. His eyes were void. Hollow. Like someone had scooped out the warmth inside him and replaced it with a blank template.And the man standing behind him…Alessio finally placed him.The hair.The posture.The slow, methodical way he exhaled like he’d been waiting for this moment longer than Alessio had even been alive.Quinn.Milan’s protégé.The one Milan used to describe as “almost perfect, but not da
Alessio didn’t feel the cold.Didn’t feel the pavement under his shoes. Didn’t feel the sting in his lungs or the burning in his calves as he sprinted down the street. His breath tore out of him in sharp bursts, every inhale scraping his throat, every exhale tasting like metal and panic. But none of that registered. All he could see was the picture on his phone Noa’s face lit by the dim hallway light, wide eyes staring into the camera like he didn’t even know someone was watching.Or maybe he did.Maybe he felt someone standing close enough behind him that their shadow fell across his back. Someone close enough to capture him in the most vulnerable second imaginable. Noa hadn’t even fixed his shirt. His hair was still messed up from where Alessio’s fingers had been in it just minutes earlier.Ten minutes earlier.The timestamp dug into Alessio’s mind like a nail driven straight between his ribs.Ten minutes ago.Ten.That meant someone had been inside the house while Noa was in his ar







