AIDEN’S POVI wasn’t expecting much when I pushed open the motel door. Maybe the faint smell of cheap air freshener and Cheryl sprawled out on the bed, tangled in the thin sheets.What I wasn’t expecting?Cheryl. Naked.Dripping wet.Frozen mid-step like some kind of forbidden masterpiece I was never meant to see.My brain glitched. My breath caught.And for a full second—maybe two—I didn’t move.Her eyes widened in sheer horror, and for once, I wasn’t the one in control.The motel’s crappy lighting flickered above us, but it didn’t matter. I saw everything. Water trailed down her collarbone, over the curve of her waist, disappearing between her thighs. Her wet hair clung to her skin, droplets catching on her lips, which were slightly parted like she’d forgotten how to breathe.Same, sweetheart. Same.Something burned in my chest, something dangerous, something I couldn’t afford to feel. I should’ve turned away. Looked at the damn ceiling. Covered my eyes.But my body had other plans.
Aiden’s POVThe door creaked open, and there she was.Cheryl stood in the doorway, freshly dressed in the T-shirt and shorts I’d bought for her, her damp hair tied into a messy bun with a few strands slipping free to frame her face.And she wouldn’t look at me.Her gaze skittered to the side, lingering on the carpet, the walls—anywhere but me. The air between us was thick, humming with something undeniable and unspoken.God help me.I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to stay still, but my mind was already betraying me—Flashes.Of her.Naked. Wet. Dripping.The curve of her hip.The way water had slipped down her skin.The way her lips had parted in shock, her cheeks burning red when she realized I was standing there—Fuck.I needed to shut this down. Now.I opened my mouth, desperate to break the tension, but my tongue refused to cooperate. The words came out in a stuttered mess."We… w-we need to start going."Jesus. Christ.I didn’t wait for her to respond. I turned sharply, pushing
"That's odd because the patients are not allowed access to phones. And even weirder because Evelyn Scott died in her sleep last night."The words felt like a hammer to my skull. A dull, echoing thud that didn’t register at first. The wretched-faced nurse was still standing there, looking between Cheryl and me like she had just announced the weather. Casual. Indifferent. Like she hadn’t just told me that the woman I spent years searching for was now nothing but a cold body."No," I said. It wasn’t a question. It was a rejection.The nurse frowned. "Excuse me?""No. You’re lying. That’s not possible."Something primal burned in my chest, a slow, spreading fire that threatened to consume me whole. I had been so close. A few goddamn hours."Aiden—" Cheryl’s voice was soft, but I wasn’t listening."You expect me to believe that she just happened to die the night before I came looking for her? That’s bullshit."The nurse sighed, already annoyed. "Look, I’m sorry, but it’s the truth. She was
Cheryl’s POVAiden’s head snapped sideways from the force of the punch, and I froze.My breath caught in my throat as I stared—horrified, stunned, completely unable to move.Damon’s fist was still clenched, his knuckles already turning red from the impact. Aiden barely reacted at first, just rolling his jaw like he was testing if it was still intact. But then—he smiled.Blood stained his lips as his smirk grew, his tongue darting out to taste the metallic tang of his own blood like he was enjoying this. His eyes darkened, glinting with something dangerously close to amusement."To what do I owe this pleasant surprise?" Aiden sneered, his voice dripping with mockery, the smirk on his face infuriatingly smug.Damon still had him by the collar, his chest heaving, his muscles coiled with rage."You stay the hell away from her," Damon snarled, his voice rough and commanding, his grip on Aiden’s shirt tightening.Aiden let out a low chuckle, completely unbothered. "How can I do that? We liv
Cheryl’s POV"I need you to move out."Damon’s words knocked the wind out of me. I blinked, half-expecting him to take it back, to laugh and say he was joking, but his expression remained set in stone. He wasn’t joking. My stomach twisted uncomfortably, a mix of shock and... something else.I folded my arms, forcing a scoff. “Excuse me?”“You heard me,” he said, his voice firmer this time. “You need to move out, Cheryl.”I shook my head, laughing dryly. “You can’t be serious.”“I’m very serious.”I searched his face for any trace of doubt, any sign that he was just being dramatic because he’d walked in on me and Aiden looking like we were about to—God, we really almost kissed, didn’t we? I mentally shook the thought away and focused on Damon’s clenched jaw, the way his hands curled into fists at his sides. He was pissed, but this? Kicking me out? That was extreme, even for him.“You’re overreacting,” I said, trying to keep my voice even.Damon exhaled sharply through his nose. “I don’
Aiden’s POV"I’m moving out."The words hung in the air like cigarette smoke, thick and suffocating.I didn’t say anything at first. I just stood there, staring at Cheryl as my mind tried to process what the hell she’d just said. There was an odd feeling in my chest—a twinge, small but sharp, like the moment you realize you left something important behind but can’t remember where.I turned slightly to the blonde still clinging to my arm, barely registering her presence now. She looked up at me with big, expectant eyes, but I wasn’t in the mood.“Give us a minute,” I murmured, barely sparing her a glance.She huffed, clearly annoyed, but still unlatched herself from my arm and strutted off toward the living room.I let out a slow breath and turned back to Cheryl. “What do you mean you’re moving out?” I asked, keeping my voice casual, stripping it of the edge that wanted to creep in.Cheryl hesitated. Just for a second.“You know, I always said I was going to move out,” she started, her
CHERYL'S POVI woke up to a house of blessed silence.No awkward run-ins. No tense, unsaid words hanging in the air like ghosts. No Aiden.I took a deep breath, inhaling the relief like it was freshly brewed coffee. The air had been thick ever since last night—ever since I dropped the bomb that I was moving out. If tension could be bottled and sold, our apartment could’ve been a freaking factory.And let’s not talk about the fact that after I thought he had disappeared into his room—with that blonde he dragged home—I had gotten up for a glass of water and almost face-planted into him in the dimly lit kitchen.Talk about bad luck.There we were, standing in a painfully awkward silence. Him, grabbing a juice carton. Me, clutching my glass of water like it was my emotional support beverage. I could barely meet his eyes, and he didn’t even try to say something stupid, which somehow made it worse. I should have just abandoned the water and walked right out, but nooo, I stood there, like an
Aiden's POVThe moment I stepped into my office, the heavy silence greeted me first. It was the kind that pressed down, thick and oppressive, like the weight of the past refusing to stay buried. I swallowed it down, forcing my focus on the only thing that could keep me sane—work.Numbers. Contracts. Emails. Anything to drown out the thoughts clawing at the back of my mind.But then I saw her.Anika.She was sitting on the couch near the floor-to-ceiling windows, legs crossed at the knee, a picture of effortless confidence. She didn't glance up right away. No, she made sure I saw her first. Her lips parted slightly, her jaw moving slow and deliberate as she chewed her gum, the glossy pink sheen of it catching the morning light. Then, with an almost practiced sensuality, she blew a bubble, holding my gaze as it popped.My grip tightened around the handle of my briefcase.I hadn’t invited her here.Hell, I hadn’t even seen her since the benefit that night. Hadn’t texted. Hadn’t called. A
CHERYLMy heart slammed against my ribs so loudly I could hear it—like it was trying to speak before I could.Aiden’s voice still rang in my ears, soft but firm. “Come with me. I'll explain everything, I'll tell you everything.”And then Damon’s—darker, lower. “Don’t move.”I stood between them like the axis of some cruel universe, their opposing gravities tugging at my ribs. The silence that fell wasn’t peaceful. It was the kind that howled beneath your skin. The kind you find just before a car crashes or a gun fires.My feet didn’t move. But everything inside me did.Aiden was looking at me like I was salvation, or maybe a last chance. And Damon? Damon’s face was unreadable—except for his eyes. His eyes were sharp and cold, yet… pleading.That was the worst part. Damon never pleaded.My gaze dropped to his chest, to the white bandage stark against his olive skin, to the dried blood that clung stubbornly to the edge of his open shirt.I did that. I shot him.He should hate me. But in
AIDENI should’ve known the address Damon sent wasn’t neutral ground. I mean I did recognise the address but I didn't think she'd be there too.The moment I stepped into the sleek, modern living room, the temperature dropped ten degrees. Not because of the air-conditioning, but because of her—Cheryl, sitting on one of those black leather chairs like she belonged there, and Damon, standing behind her with that arrogant smirk and a half-drunk glass of whiskey in his hand.The sight stopped me mid-step.I hadn’t prepared for this—hadn’t prepared to see her again in his space. The last time I’d seen her, she was shaking, holding a gun, her hands stained with fear and guilt. And now? Now she looked too calm, too collected, like she hadn’t just watched me disappear into the shadows of chaos.But what got me the most… was that she didn’t look surprised, maybe she did, I wasn't particularly looking at her. I was staring daggers into Damon's eyes“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I said,
CHERYL'S POVThe sky hung heavy and gray above me as I drove, casting the entire town in a muted haze. It was the kind of weather that whispered secrets and warned of storms—fitting for the place I was heading. Damon’s house. Or, more accurately, the house Damon bought for me. My grip on the steering wheel tightened as I turned onto the long, winding driveway. The structure loomed into view like a forgotten secret—modern, cold, and elegant. It hadn’t changed. White concrete walls, dark paneling, glass edges that reflected the world but let no one in. It was still as breathtaking and lonely as the man who owned it.I parked and stepped out slowly, gravel crunching underfoot. The keypad beside the tall black door blinked awake as I approached. I didn’t hesitate—my fingers moved by memory, punching in the code he had set using my birthday. There was a soft click, and then the door opened with a sigh, as if the house had been holding its breath all this time.Silence met me inside.Thick
Cheryl’s POVI stared at the phone on my dresser for longer than I should have, the contact name glowing like it knew too much — like it was mocking me.Damon.I didn't even know what I wanted to say. What did you say to a man you shot? To a man you might've killed — who might still be bleeding out in some forgotten room?Still, my fingers moved on their own, like muscle memory. I tapped the call button before I could talk myself out of it. I held my breath as the dial tone started.Once.Twice.Three times.He’s not going to pick up, I told myself. Maybe that was a good thing. Maybe—Click.His voice, low and gruff, filled my ears like smoke curling under a door."What a pleasant surprise," he said.I froze. My throat clenched, mouth suddenly dry."...You're okay," I managed. My voice sounded far away, like someone else had spoken for me."For the most part," he said, and I could almost hear the smirk beneath his words. "But my heart is still broken. Wasn’t expecting the woman I’m in
Cheryl’s POVThe morning light streamed through the pale curtains, brushing my room in gold, but it only made the pounding guilt in my head stronger.I sat up slowly, rubbing my arms, feeling the faint bruises of last night's chaos beneath my skin. It was almost absurd how normal everything looked. The smell of bacon frying downstairs, the creak of the old wood floors in my aunt’s house, the chirping of birds outside.But inside me?Nothing felt normal.Every time I closed my eyes, the gunshot echoed in my brain — loud, sharp, deadly. My fingers twitched at the memory, and I recoiled, wrapping my arms around my knees like they could somehow hold me together.I had shot someone.Not just anyone. Damon.I hadn't meant to — God, I hadn't meant to. It was instinct, pure reflex. I had seen the gun pressed to Aiden’s head and I hadn’t thought — I had acted.Like some wild animal, desperate to protect.But the more I thought about it… the more I realized the sinking truth:I wasn’t sure I ha
Cheryl’s POVThe moment I felt his arms wrap around me, I thought everything would be okay. For a single, fleeting second, the chaos quieted. But then I looked down. My eyes found Damon’s body lying limp on the cold, cracked earth, blood blooming beneath him like ink spilled from a broken pen.That’s when it hit me.I had shot someone.I had taken a life. Maybe not completely yet, but I could see the way his chest rose in stuttered breaths, each one weaker than the last. His blood... his blood was on me.I stepped out of Aiden’s embrace like I was in a daze, my body numb, the gun suddenly burning hot in my hands. I dropped it. It clattered to the ground like it had fulfilled its purpose.“We need to call someone,” I breathed. “911. We have to call for help.”Aiden’s voice was firm but low. “We need to get the hell out of here, Cheryl. Now. Before Alejandro realizes what’s happening.”“No!” I snapped, shaking my head. My voice cracked. “No, we can’t just leave him like that. I shot him
Damon’s POVHe always knew it would come to this.The moment he saw Cheryl for the first time — in that slinky red dress at that bar, soft curls falling over her shoulders like poetry in motion — he knew he'd never stand a chance. Not when Aiden was involved. Aiden always got what he wanted, he looked like a guy that got everything he wanted. The girls. The glory. The forgiveness. Even after everything.But not this time.Not anymore.Damon lit a cigarette and took a long drag, leaning against the black Impala parked under the sickly orange glow of a dying streetlamp. The road out here was cracked, half-swallowed by overgrown weeds. The silence of the place clawed at the back of his neck, broken only by the distant echo of a rusted windmill creaking with each breeze.The warehouse ahead of him stood like a tomb — abandoned, graffitied, the scent of oil and mildew bleeding from its rusted frame. It used to be a car assembly plant, once. Now, it was the kind of place nightmares came to
Cheryl’s POVThe room was dimly lit—too dim to tell if the red smears on the floor were wine or something far worse.The air smelled of rusted metal, sweat, and something faintly floral—like someone had tried to mask the decay with cheap perfume, or maybe it was my own perfume turned cheap from the deathliness of this place. A single lightbulb swung lazily from the ceiling above me, casting long, flickering shadows that danced across the concrete walls like ghosts.My hands were still untied and free when my eyes popped again to the strangeness of this place, but they still ached from the pressure of the zip ties. My legs were numb, folded underneath me on the cold stone floor. I didn’t know how long I’d been here—minutes, hours—it all bled together in this silent, chilling purgatory.Until the door opened.It didn’t creak or groan. It glided open smoothly, almost soundlessly, like it had been waiting for this moment. And when I looked up—he was there.The boss - or so I assumed becau
Cheryl’s POVThe first thing I felt was the cold. It seeped through my skin like tiny shards of ice, making it impossible to stay asleep. Then came the pain—an aching throb behind my eyes, the sore sting in my wrists, the bruised thump of my knees. My body felt like it had been tossed like trash into the back of a car.I opened my eyes to darkness. Not complete darkness, but the dim, flickering kind—the kind that hummed from a dying fluorescent bulb overhead.My heart pounded. My breathing stuttered.Where the hell am I?I sat up slowly, the thin mattress beneath me crunching with old springs. My hands were free, but the bruises around my wrists told me they hadn’t always been. I looked around. Four walls. One metal door. No windows. A chair in the corner. A bucket near the wall that made my stomach turn.This was not a misunderstanding.This was not a mistake.I had been kidnapped.My fingers clenched into fists as panic began to crawl up my throat. And then… Aiden. His name crashed