Chapter Five

I sat in the car for what felt like hours, staring at his number on my phone screen. My thumb hovered over the call button, but I couldn’t press it. It was just ten digits ordinary, meaningless to anyone else but to me, it felt like crossing a line I could never return from.

I dropped the phone onto the passenger seat and leaned back, exhaling.

“Get a grip, Vivienne,” I muttered, pressing my fingers against my temple. “He’s just a guy.”

But even as I said it, I didn’t believe myself. There was nothing just about Zayden. Every thought of him carried heat, danger, and something I couldn’t name. I hated that a man I barely knew could get under my skin this way. I hated even more that I wanted to hear his voice again.

The phone buzzed suddenly, making me jump. My heart leapt to my throat, but it wasn’t him,it was an unknown number. I sighed in relief and irritation all at once.

“Hello?” I said, voice low.

“Vivienne?” a familiar male voice said on the other end. Derek.

I froze. “How the hell did you get my number?”

“Doesn’t matter,” he said quickly. His tone was strange,nervous, rushed. “Listen, I just want to say I’m sorry about what happened. I didn’t mean for it to go that far.”

“You tried to assault me, Derek,” I snapped. “There’s no sorry big enough for that.”

He was quiet for a second. “You don’t understand. I was drunk, okay? I wasn’t thinking. Please, Vivienne, don’t tell your father. He’ll ruin me.”

“Good,” I bit out. “You deserve worse.”

He sighed shakily. “You don’t get it. You don’t know what he’s capable of.”

My blood went cold. “Who are you talking about?”

But before he could answer, the line went dead.

I stared at my phone, my stomach twisting. The silence in the car felt heavier than ever. Derek’s words echoed in my head, but I couldn’t piece them together. What was that supposed to mean? Who was he afraid of?

I shook my head, shoving the phone into my bag. “I’m not doing this tonight,” I whispered to myself. “I’m done.”

But deep down, I knew I wasn’t done. Not even close.

The next morning, I woke up groggy and restless. I hadn’t slept much. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw his face again; Zayden’s, not Derek’s. The way his jaw clenched when he looked at me, the fire in his voice when he told Derek to get lost.

By the time I got dressed and went downstairs, I was running on coffee and nerves. Evelyn was already in the kitchen, flipping through a magazine like she didn’t have a care in the world.

“You’re up early,” she said without looking up.

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“Another nightmare?”

I hesitated. “Something like that.”

She finally looked at me, her eyes narrowing. “You look… different. Did something happen?”

I wanted to say no, but what was the point? Evelyn had a way of sniffing out secrets like perfume. “Just a long night,” I muttered, pouring myself another cup.

She watched me for a long moment, her lips curving slightly. “You met someone.”

I almost choked. “What? No.”

“Oh please,” she said, smirking. “I know that face. You’re either in trouble or in love, and with you, it’s usually both.”

I rolled my eyes, ignoring her teasing. “You read too many romance novels.”

She grinned, sipping her drink. “And yet, I’m never wrong.”

Before I could respond, my phone buzzed again on the counter. Unknown number.

My heart skipped.

I picked it up hesitantly. “Hello?”

“Next time you come looking for him,” a woman’s voice said coldly, “you won’t leave in one piece.”

My blood froze. “Who is this?”

The line clicked dead.

I stood there, staring at my phone, my pulse hammering in my ears.

“Viv?” Evelyn’s voice broke through. “What’s wrong?”

I forced a shaky smile. “Wrong number,” I lied.

But my hands wouldn’t stop trembling.

The rest of the day passed in a blur. I tried to distract myself with work calls and errands, but my mind kept circling back to that voice. Cold. Calm. Threatening.

By evening, I was done pretending I could ignore it. I grabbed my phone, went outside, and sat in the car again. The sky was painted in streaks of orange and pink, but it didn’t calm me.

I scrolled to the number I’d saved last night. Zayden.

I hesitated one last time before pressing call.

The phone rang once. Twice.

Then, “Yeah?”

His voice was deeper than I remembered. Rough. Distracted, like he hadn’t expected anyone to call.

For a moment, I forgot how to breathe. “It’s me,” I managed.

“Who’s me?”

“Vivienne,” I said softly.

A pause. Then a low, quiet laugh that wasn’t exactly amused. “Didn’t think I’d ever hear that voice again.”

I swallowed. “I just wanted to say thank you. For last night.”

“You already did,” he said flatly. “With silence.”

“I didn’t mean...”

“I don’t need your gratitude, princess.”

The word princess rolled off his tongue with something between sarcasm and heat. I didn’t know whether to be offended or flustered.

“Fine,” I said. “Then consider this… closure.”

“Closure for what? You don’t even know me.”

“Maybe I want to.”

He was quiet for a long moment, and I could almost hear the sound of his breath through the line. “You shouldn’t,” he said finally. “You don’t belong in my world, Vivienne.”

“Maybe I don’t want to belong anywhere right now.”

That made him pause again, and when he spoke, his voice was lower. “Where are you?”

I hesitated. “Home.”

He hummed quietly, like he didn’t believe me. “Don’t call this number again.”

Then the line went dead.

I stared at my phone, stunned and a little angry. Don’t call this number again? 

Who the hell did he think he was?

But the anger didn’t last long. Because beneath it was something else, an ache I couldn’t explain. He was warning me off, but I could hear the restraint in his voice. Like he was fighting himself as much as he was pushing me away.

Two nights later, I found myself outside again, sitting in my car in the same spot where everything had started. The club lights flashed faintly down the street, and the night smelled like smoke and cheap liquor. I didn’t know why I came. Maybe I just wanted to prove to myself that I wasn’t afraid.

As I stepped out, I noticed a group of bikers parked near the side road. Their engines rumbled low, the metallic growl vibrating through the air. And then I saw him.

Zayden.

He was leaning against his bike, leather jacket glinting under the neon light, cigarette between his fingers. He looked up just as I froze, and our eyes met across the distance.

For a moment, neither of us moved.

Then he dropped the cigarette, crushed it under his boot, and started walking toward me.

My breath caught. Every step he took felt deliberate, heavy, like he knew exactly how much space he occupied in my world. When he finally stopped in front of me, I could smell the faint scent of smoke and danger all over him.

“I thought I told you not to call again,” he said quietly.

“I didn’t call,” I whispered. “I came.”

He looked down at me, jaw tight. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I needed to see you.”

“For what?”

“I don’t know,” I said honestly. “To ask why you’re pretending you don’t care.”

His expression darkened. “Because caring gets people killed.”

I blinked. “What?”

He exhaled slowly, glancing toward the bikes where his crew was waiting. “You don’t know what you’re getting into, Vivienne. Go home.”

“I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s going on,” I said, my voice shaking but firm.

He stared at me for a long moment, his eyes unreadable. Then, without warning, he stepped closer, so close that I could feel the warmth radiating off him. His voice dropped, rough and low.

“You really want to know?” he murmured. “Then don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Before I could answer, he reached into his pocket and handed me something ,a folded piece of paper.

“Read it when you get home,” he said. “And for your sake, don’t come looking for me again.”

And then he turned and walked away, swinging his leg over his bike as the engines roared to life. Within seconds, they were gone, swallowed by the night.

I stood there, the paper trembling in my hands. For a long moment, I couldn’t move. The world felt still. Too still.

Finally, I unfolded it under the streetlight.

My stomach dropped.

Inside was a photograph grainy, but unmistakable. My father.

And Zayden.

Standing together.