All Chapters of COLLATERAL DESIRE : Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

The day Lance was discharged from the hospital, the sky was gray and quiet, the kind of day that felt like something was supposed to happen. He returned to the mansion in silence, walking slowly through the large halls that suddenly felt unfamiliar after weeks in a hospital bed.Everything was the same. The furniture, the smell, the quiet. But he didn’t feel the same.Later that evening, Lance sat alone in his room, staring at his hand again. The burn scars ran along his arm and across part of his hand, uneven, shiny, and impossible to ignore. He flexed his fingers slowly, watching how the scarred skin moved differently. He hated it. Not because it hurt, but because it was a reminder, of the explosion, the fear, the bodies, the part of himself he couldn’t forget.A knock came at his door.“Come in,” Lance said quietly.Ragnar stepped inside. He didn’t say anything at first. His eyes immediately went to Lance’s hand, then back to his face. He had noticed.“Get up,” Ragnar said simply.

The mansion was unusually quiet that morning.Lance woke up earlier than usual, unable to fall back asleep. The halls were empty as he walked downstairs, the cold marble floor making soft echoes under his steps. He didn’t know why he was restless lately. Maybe it was being stuck in the hospital for weeks. Maybe it was the tattoo. Maybe it was Ragnar.Or maybe it was the fact that he was getting worse at hiding how he felt.He reached the kitchen and stopped when he saw Ragnar standing by the counter, sleeves rolled slightly, pouring coffee into a mug. The morning light came through the large windows, casting soft light across the room and across Ragnar’s shoulders.For a moment, Lance just stood there, watching him.Ragnar noticed without turning. “You’re staring,” he said calmly.Lance leaned against the doorway. “You have eyes in the back of your head or something?”“I can hear you breathing,” Ragnar replied, taking a sip of his coffee.Lance walked into the kitchen slowly. “That’

The cars arrived late in the morning.Everyone was already outside in the front courtyard, Porto leaning against the railing, Mar sitting on the hood of a car, Ylva standing with her arms crossed, Lance slightly behind everyone, and Ragnar at the front, calm and still as always.The black car stopped first. A driver stepped out and opened the back door.The man who stepped out looked calm, elegant, and dangerous in a quiet way. He wasn’t loud like Mar or intimidating like Ragnar but there was something about him that made everyone stand a little straighter.“Ping Lee,” Ragnar said, stepping forward.Ping Lee smiled slightly. “Ragnar. It’s been a long time.”They shook hands, not like business partners, but like men who had survived things together.Then the other side of the car door opened.A boy stepped out, probably around Ylva’s height, slim, soft features, pale skin, dark hair falling into his eyes. He had headphones on and a candy stick in his mouth, looking completely unintere

The house felt different again when Ylva left.She had a school trip abroad for two weeks, and the morning she left, the mansion was unusually busy. Bags, staff moving around, Porto giving instructions, Mar pretending to be emotional just to annoy her.“Don’t miss me too much,” Ylva said, hugging Porto.“I already do,” Porto said dramatically.She rolled her eyes and then hugged Mar, who whispered, “Bring me snacks or don’t come back.”Then she turned to Lance and hugged him tightly. “Don’t let them destroy the house while I’m gone.”“No promises,” Lance said, smiling a little.Finally she walked over to Ragnar and hugged him too. He rested his hand on her head briefly. “Be careful.”“I will,” she said, then smiled. “Try not to be too grumpy while I’m gone.”“I’m never grumpy,” Ragnar replied.Everyone laughed because that was a lie.After the car left, the mansion suddenly felt quieter. Emptier.And Lance noticed something almost immediately.Ragnar was avoiding him.At first it was

Ragnar finally moved.It was subtle at first, a shift, a breath, his hand loosening around Lance’s wrist like he had just remembered himself.“This—” Ragnar started, his voice low but strained, “you can’t do this.”He tried to pull away.Tried.But Lance didn’t let him.With a sudden, unsteady strength, fueled by alcohol, frustration, and weeks of bottled-up feelings, Lance pulled him forward instead.The movement caught Ragnar off guard.One second he was standing, The next, he was pushed back onto the bed.Lance followed immediately, climbing over him, bracing his arms on either side of Ragnar’s shoulders, effectively caging him in.Ragnar stilled.Not fighting.Not reacting.Just… still.“Lance—” Ragnar’s voice was sharper now, warning.But Lance shook his head, breathing uneven, eyes intense despite the haze of alcohol.“No,” he said. “No, you don’t get to do that.”“Get off me,” Ragnar said, quieter this time.But there was no force behind it.Lance leaned closer instead, his gr