Velia

"One punch, one kick, and—victory!" Velia cheered, her voice brimming with excitement. Fingers flying across her controller, she was engrossed in her video game as she munched on a piece of chicken. Her eyes were glued to the screen, her face lit up with pure joy.

Suddenly, a familiar sound broke her focus. She pulled off her headphones and checked her phone. It was a call from her brother, Hardin.

Smiling, she answered. "Hello, brother," she greeted, her voice muffled by the food in her mouth.

"What are you eating?" Hardin asked, his tone calm and amused.

"Chicken," she replied, still chewing.

He chuckled softly. "Don't rush yourself. Listen, I'll be home late tonight. There's an important guest at the club. Make sure you lock the door before you go to sleep, okay?"

"Of course," Velia said sweetly. Hardin was always so caring, constantly looking out for her. He practically smothered her with attention, which was probably why she didn’t have many friends. She was homeschooled at his insistence and rarely went out unless absolutely necessary.

"Did you get the groceries?" he asked, his tone shifting slightly.

Velia froze. She had completely forgotten about it, having spent the entire day playing games. "Um, yes, of course, I did," she lied quickly.

"Good. Will you cook something for me? Just leave a plate in the fridge. But, if you're too tired, that's okay. I can find something to eat," he offered kindly.

"I’ll make something! What do you want?" she asked, already scrambling to get dressed.

"Whatever you're having. You know what I like."

"Okay. Ciao, ciao!" Velia hurried to get off the phone. She had to get to the store before it closed.

"And don't forget to lock the door, Vel," Hardin reminded one more time.

"Yes, Har, I'll remember." Velia rolled her eyes. He was so good to her but, really, she wasn't a baby.

She threw on her favorite purple dress, which matched almost everything she owned. Purple was her favorite color—her hair, her phone case, even her room was decorated in shades of purple.

Pulling on a purple hoodie and grabbing her headphones, Velia stepped out of their small apartment. They didn’t have much, but Hardin made sure she lacked for nothing, from education to little luxuries.

She considered taking her bicycle but decided against it since the grocery store wasn’t far. Walking quickly, she slipped on her headphones and started playing her favorite BTS song, Run.

"Run, bulletproof, run. Yeah, you gotta run," she sang along happily, her voice carrying through the quiet street.

Arriving at the store, she let out a relieved sigh. It was still open. She had worried it might have closed, but luck was on her side tonight. Grabbing a basket, she quickly picked up everything she needed, eager to get home. If Hardin found out she'd gone out so late, he'd be angry.

Humming to the song, she twirled down an empty aisle, carefree and content. For Velia, the world seemed blissfully simple at that moment.

***

"This must be his blood. He can't have gone far—let's find him," one of the men pursuing Venom said. They began tracing the blood, scanning the surroundings intently.

"When you spot him, aim straight for his head. Understood?" another man ordered. The others nodded grimly, following the trail of blood.

Venom kept running, his breaths ragged, his heart pounding. He could hear their footsteps growing closer. They were tracing his blood; he was certain they'd catch him soon. Desperate, he tore off his jacket, ripped it into strips, and tied the pieces around his bleeding wounds to slow the flow. He darted into a nearby bush, moving carefully.

"The blood stops here," one of the men announced, staring at the ground.

"He must be in the bushed somewhere," another said cautiously. "Stay sharp."

Venom crouched behind a tree, holding his breath as they passed by, their eyes darting nervously. Taking advantage of their distraction, he silently attached a silencer to his gun. He breathed deeply willing his shifter blood to start healing his wounds even though he couldn't shift here. He was losing a lot of blood but he had to stay sharp for a few more minutes.

He peeked around the tree and took aim at one of the men. Thank the goddess his enhanced eyesight was still functional. The man dropped from a shot straight in in beady, black eye. the rest of the men started ducking and dodging as their comrades fell around them, not able to tell where the silent shots were coming from. One by one, the men dropped, their confusion evident as they searched in vain for their unseen attacker. When the last of the six fell, Venom tossed his gun aside and stumbled out from behind the tree.

His adrenaline was wearing off and his strength was waning; each step felt heavier than the last. His vision blurred, and his body swayed. In the distance, he spotted a small house on the edge of a patch of overgrown asphalt where a couple of cars were parked. He made it to a trash bin at the back door before collapsing to the ground. He fought to stay conscious, his eyes fluttering but soon he lost the fight and everything went dark.

***

Velia rushed into her house, humming a cheerful tune. She was late and needed to prepare dinner so her brother would have a plate when he finally made it home. He worked so hard and so many long hours. As she moved around the kitchen, her eyes fell on a trash bag in the corner.

"Oh no, I forgot to take this out," she muttered, grabbing the bag. "He'll be so disappointed in me if he sees this."

Still humming, she carried the bag outside, singing along to her music. "Imma light it up like dynamite, oh-oh," she sang, dropping the bag at the curb. She turned to go back inside when something grabbed her ankle.

She cried out and yanked off her headphones, gasping when she saw what—no who—had her ankle. A man lay on the ground, covered in blood.

"Help me," he rasped weakly.

Velia froze, her mind racing. "I... I don’t know what to do," she stammered. She turned to run but stopped, guilt gnawing at her. She couldn’t leave him to die.

"I’ll call an ambulance," she said, fumbling for her phone.

"No!" Venom said, his voice barely audible. "No hospitals... please... help me."

Velia hesitated, torn. "What am I supposed to do then?"

"Take me in," he pleaded, his light brown eyes desperate and full of pain.

Velia hesitated. She new her brother wouldn't approve of her bringing a strange man into the house but her tender heart couldn't leave him here suffering. Reluctantly, Velia agreed. "Okay, I’ll help you."

She crouched beside him, slipping her arm under his large, muscular one. Supporting his weight was a struggle, but she managed to drag him through the back door and into her home. Once inside, she laid him on the couch and grabbed towels and a basin of warm water.

"This may hurt a bit," she warned softly as she cut off his shirt and began cleaning his wounds. As the blood was cleaned away, she couldn't believe how many holes he had in his torso. How was he still alive?

Velia had been very young when her father died but some of her most vivid memories were of him treated men's wounds, removing bullets and stitching wounds. The memories almost swamped her as she worked to clean the man's chest, back and shoulder thoroughly. She remembered how important that was.

Venom winced occasionally but didn’t protest. "Thank you," he whispered.

Velia gave him a tight smile. "Wait here. I think I have some medicine and bandages."

Velia retrieved her father’s old medical kit from the closet. She found his tools and other supplies and with a steady hand, she worked to remove the bullets lodged in Venom’s body, her mind flashing back to her father’s precise, confident movements.

When she finally removed them all and dressed the wounds, Venom opened his eyes. "Thank you," he said again, his voice ragged with fatigue and pain.

Velia nodded, a soft smile on her lips. "My father was a doctor. I learned from him."

Venom’s gaze lingered on her. "You're incredible," he said weakly, his sincerity unmistakable.

Blushing, Velia quickly busied herself cleaning up. Despite his state, she couldn't help but notice how striking he looked. The man was all muscle, not an ounce of fat on him. And somehow the bullets had left a large, beautiful wolf tattoo undamaged on the right side of his chest. She'd been fascinated by it while she was cleaning him up. And those eyes. She'd never seen eyes of such a clear, light brown. They also glowed from within. She shook her head at her own flight of fancy.

"You need rest," she said firmly, turning back to the man on the couch.

"What is your name," he asked, his voice fading.

"Velia." Velia blushed again. She had no experience talking to handsome men, even those half dead and weak.

Venom’s eyes softened. "Pretty. Thank you, again, pretty Velia."

Velia felt a strange sense of resolve as she watched him drift into an uneasy sleep. She didn’t know who he was or why he was running, but something made her determined to help him, no matter the risks. Velia gently draped a blanket over him and settled beside him, her gaze lingering on his peaceful expression as he slept.

As the hours passed, Velia felt an inexplicable pull toward the man. It was irrational—she didn't even know his name—but something about him captivated her, stirring emotions she couldn’t quite understand.

Watching him sleep, a sense of protectiveness swelled within her. She realized she would do anything to shield him, to keep him safe from harm.

But Velia had no idea that the stranger was hiding secrets of his own. Their lives were about to intertwine in ways she could never have foreseen.