Chapter Five Close enough to bleed

I don’t realize I’ve walked into his orbit until it’s already too late.

The street is narrow, half-lit, smelling of wet concrete and exhaust. Morning is trying to arrive, but the city isn’t ready to let go of the night just yet. Everything feels suspended sound, movement, even my breath.

I’m focused on one thing only: staying upright.

My ankle is a dead weight now, dragging me down with every step. My ribs feel like they’re stitched together with wire. I’m cold in a way that has nothing to do with the weather, a deep internal chill that tells me my body is running out of favors.

I turn the corner too fast.

And slam straight into a wall of muscle.

Strong hands catch my shoulders instantly, firm and unyielding, stopping me from hitting the pavement. The impact knocks the breath from my lungs anyway, a sharp, humiliating gasp tearing out of me before I can stop it.

“Hey ”

The voice is low. Rough. Controlled.

Not angry.

I freeze.

Every instinct in my body screams danger, but not the frantic kind. This is something else heavy, grounded, like standing too close to a cliff edge without realizing it.

I don’t look up right away.

I can’t.

Because if I meet his eyes and they recognize something in mine fear, blood, desperation I don’t know what will happen next.

“Easy,” he says, quieter now. “You’re hurt.”

It’s not a question.

I swallow hard, my throat dry as sandpaper. His hands are still on me. Warm. Steady. Infuriatingly solid. They feel wrong in a way that makes my chest ache.

I jerk back, pulling free from his grip with more force than my body can afford. Pain lances through my ankle, white-hot, and I hiss despite myself.

“I’m fine.”

The lie sounds pathetic even to me.

I finally look up.

He’s tall. Broad-shouldered. Dressed in dark clothes that scream money without trying too hard. There’s a faint scar cutting through one eyebrow, barely visible but unmistakable. His expression is sharp, assessing, eyes flicking over me with practiced efficiency.

Not predatory.

Protective.

That scares me more.

“You’re bleeding,” he says flatly.

I glance down and curse under my breath. Blood has soaked through the side of my jacket, dark and obvious against the fabric. I tug the jacket closed instinctively, shielding it like it’s a secret.

“I said I’m fine.”

He studies me for a long second too long.

Something shifts in his gaze not recognition, but interest. Instinct. Like a puzzle he hasn’t decided whether to solve.

“Yeah,” he says slowly. “That’s not fine.”

I take a step back.

Then another.

The street suddenly feels too open, too exposed. My heart starts racing again, panic clawing up my spine. I don’t know who he is, but everything about him tells me he’s not someone I can afford to linger near.

I turn to leave.

His hand snaps out not grabbing me, not quite but close enough that I feel the heat of it against my arm.

“Wait.”

The word lands heavier than it should.

I stop despite myself.

I hate my body for betraying me like this.

“Where are you going?” he asks.

None of your business.

Anywhere but here.

I keep my voice flat. “Away.”

His jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. “You’re limping. You’re hurt. And you look like you haven’t slept in days.”

I don’t answer.

He exhales through his nose, frustration bleeding through his control. “You need help.”

The word hits something raw in my chest.

Help.

I laugh a short, broken sound. “No,” I say quietly. “I really don’t.”

Something flickers across his face then.

Not anger.

Not pity.

Recognition of something he understands too well.

“Someone’s looking for you,” he says, just as quietly.

My blood turns to ice.

I force myself not to react, not to flinch, not to give him anything. “Aren’t they always?”

He watches me carefully now, like he’s measuring every breath I take. The street hums faintly around us cars passing, voices in the distance but it feels like the world has narrowed to the space between us.

“How many?” he asks.

I shake my head. “Too many.”

He curses under his breath.

That’s when I see it.

The earpiece.

Barely visible, tucked neatly against his ear, almost hidden. My pulse spikes violently.

He’s not alone.

I back away again, more urgently this time. “I need to go.”

He steps sideways, blocking my path without touching me.

“Listen to me,” he says. “You don’t look like the kind of person who ends up like this by choice.”

I meet his gaze head-on now, exhaustion burning through fear.

“You’d be surprised.”

For a moment, something dangerous flares in his eyes anger sharp enough to cut. Not at me.

At whoever did this.

He hesitates.

I can tell he’s weighing something. A decision. A line he hasn’t crossed yet.

Behind him, an engine turns over.

His attention flickers just for a second.

That’s all I need.

I pivot and run.

Or what passes for running now.

Pain explodes through my leg as I bolt down the side street, lungs screaming, vision blurring. I hear him shout something behind me my name, maybe, or just wait but I don’t stop.

I can’t.

Footsteps pound after me for a few seconds.

Then they slow.

Then they stop.

I duck into an alley, press myself against the wall, fighting for breath, heart slamming violently against my ribs. I clamp a hand over my mouth to keep from sobbing as the adrenaline crashes hard and fast.

I wait.

Nothing.

When I finally dare to peek out, the street is empty.

He’s gone.

I slide down the wall, trembling, my entire body shaking with delayed fear and something else I don’t have a name for yet.

That was too close.

Too close to everything.

I don’t know that the man I ran from is my brother.

I don’t know that he stood inches away from the sister he thought was dead.

I only know this 

For the first time since I escaped, someone looked at me like I mattered.

And it terrified me enough to run harder than ever.