Athena's voice grated against my ears, her tone saccharine.
She leaned in, her perfume cloying— too sweet, too strong, like she had bathed in it.
Her manicured nails drummed against the table in a rhythmic tap-tap-tap that tested my patience.
I didn't bother looking up.
My thumb ghosted over my phone screen as I scrolled aimlessly, more focused on the weight pressing against my chest than whatever she was rambling about.
She had asked me earlier what I liked to eat.
I had muttered something about fried rice, barely paying attention.
And now, here it was in front of me— steaming, fragrant, plated perfectly.
But I knew she hadn't made it. The maids had.
She was just playing house, pretending, like she always did.
"Yeah, sure." My voice was flat, disinterested.
Her pout deepened. "You're so mean these days, Acey~" she whined, dragging out my name like nails on a chalkboard.
I exhaled slowly, my grip tightening around my phone. Irritation coiled in my gut.
Since that night with Iris, I hadn't been the same.
She had been avoiding me— ducking out of rooms the moment I stepped inside, refusing to meet my gaze. And it pissed me off more than I cared to admit.
The memory of her wide, startled eyes haunted me. The way she pushed me away. The way she looked at me.
"Come on, Acey~ Nowadays, you're not giving me attention," Athena purred, snapping me back to the present.
She placed a hand on my arm, her touch lingering, expectant.
Something inside me snapped.
"Stop it," I growled, my voice a low, lethal warning.
She flinched but masked it quickly with an exaggerated pout.
Dumb woman. I wasn't in the mood for her games.
The day was already turning to shit, and it was about to get worse.
"Boss."
Ivan's voice cut through the static in my head, a smirk curling on his lips. Asshole.
I shot him a glare. "What?"
"I ragazzi sono qui (The boys are here)."
Fuck.
I ran a hand down my face.They were all out of town.
I pushed back from the table, my chair scraping against the floor.
"Make sure Iris stays in her room," I ordered, my voice sharp.
The last thing I needed was her wandering around when they were here. My stomach twisted at the thought.
I strode down the hallway, my mind racing.
But just as I turned the corner—
BAM!
A solid force slammed into me, knocking the breath from my lungs. My body lurched forward, momentum dragging me down.
"Fuck!" The word ripped out of me instinctively as I crashed onto something—someone.
I barely registered the soft gasp beneath me before I was met with wide, startled eyes.
Iris.
Her body was pinned beneath mine, her chest rising and falling in rapid, uneven breaths.
Her hair fanned out on the floor, strands curling against her flushed cheeks.
A soft whimper left her throat. "Ouch~"
I froze, my body going rigid.
Fuck. Fuck. Fucking hell.
My hands were braced on either side of her head, caging her in.
A dangerous position.
My jaw clenched. If anyone saw her like this—saw us like this—I was fucking done.
I stood up hurriedly, instinct taking over, and swept Iris into my arms in a bridal carry.
Her body felt far too light—fragile, as if she weighed nothing at all.
Her skin burned against mine, fever still clinging to her like a second layer.
Her head lolled against my chest, lips slightly parted, breaths shallow.
"Wow!! Who is she?"
Felix's voice rang out from the hallway, loud and grating, like nails dragging against steel.
Fuck me. You fucking dickhead.
Before I could react, another voice chimed in, this time from Alex, his tone dripping with amusement.
"Ace, you didn't tell us... that you adopted a child."
My fucking child?
If I were to die right now, I would never—never—accept that. For fuck's sake.
I barely managed to bite down the growl bubbling in my throat when—
A sharp jab to my chest.
I looked down.
Her small hand had weakly pressed against me before slipping away, her fingers twitching slightly before going still.
Her head lolled again, and her body slumped, her breath shallow and uneven.
Cold panic slashed through me.
"Iris," I called her name, my voice tight, lined with something dangerously close to fear.
No response.
I crouched quickly, lowering her onto the stairs with careful hands, but her head only drooped backward lifelessly.
"What the fuck happened to her, Ace? Did you drug her?" Hudson's sharp voice sliced through the air like a blade, sending another wave of irritation crashing over me.
"What! No, asswipe!" My voice came out sharper than intended, my patience already razor-thin. "What do you even think of me? A fucking sex trafficker?"
Hudson ignored my outburst, stepping closer, his expression dark with concern.
He crouched beside Iris, fingers pressing against her wrist, then gently tilting her head to check her pupils.
"Leo, get some cold water. Fast," he ordered over his shoulder.
Felix, standing a few feet away with his arms folded, tilted his head. His curiosity hadn't waned.
"Ace, who is she?"
I ignored him.
My entire focus was locked onto the girl in front of me— her half-lidded eyes, her flushed cheeks, her lips slightly parted as if she were not breathing.
"Relax, she'll be fine," Hudson murmured, but the words did nothing to ease the coil of dread tightening in my chest.
Fine? She looked anything but fine.
Leo returned within seconds, thrusting a cold bottle of water into Hudson's waiting hand.
Without hesitation, Hudson unscrewed the cap and splashed the ice-cold water directly onto Iris's face and then instructed me to tap her cheeks, repeatedly.
I did as told, tapping her cheeks firmly.
She jolted violently.
Her lashes fluttered, a sharp gasp wrenching from her lips, but before she could fully come to—
She threw up.
The sound was raw, wet, a choked gag before the contents of her stomach spilled onto the cold, polished floor.
The whole scene unfolded in a blink.
"Ew..." Aiden's voice cut through the tense silence, thick with disgust. He took a quick step back, wrinkling his nose.
I snapped my head toward him, a sharp glare slicing through the room like a blade.
The weight of my stare alone was enough to shut him up instantly, his mouth clamping shut as he averted his gaze.
Iris trembled violently in my arms, her body wracked with silent sobs. I could feel every shudder, every hitched breath against me.
Her small hands clung to the front of my t-shirt, weak but desperate, like I was the only thing tethering her to reality.
I turned my head sharply toward Athena.
"Athena, call Melinda. Now." My voice was urgent, low, laced with an edge that brokered no argument.
Athena hesitated for half a second before scurrying off.
Iris buried her damp face into my chest, her breath coming in broken gasps against the fabric of my shirt.
I cupped her flushed, tear-streaked face, my thumb instinctively brushing away the mix of tears and vomit clinging to her cheek.
"Mini, look at me," I murmured, my voice softer now.
She stirred slightly, her lashes fluttering weakly.
Her face was a mess— her usually bright brown-gold eyes were swollen and glassy, rimmed with unshed tears.
Her cheeks, normally soft and full of life, were damp, streaked with sickness and exhaustion.
"Sh...Sh... it's okay. Let it out."
My voice was a quiet murmur against the weight of her trembling frame, my hand moving in slow, steady circles along her back.
Each sob rattled through her small body, her chest convulsing as she coughed up more of the vomit clinging to her throat.
The wet, acrid scent of vomit filled the air, sharp and unpleasant, but I barely registered it.
She was shaking, her fevered skin hot and clammy against mine, her breaths uneven and jagged.
I reached up, my sleeve brushing gently over her tear-streaked cheeks, wiping away the mess the best I could.
The fabric dampened quickly, the warmth of her skin seeping through.
"It's okay. Deep breaths."
My voice was still thick with concern, softer this time, as I tried to coax her back to steady breathing.
I could feel her chest rising and falling erratically, each inhale catching in her throat like she was struggling to hold herself together.
"H-urts."
Her whimper was barely a whisper, but it sliced through me like a blade.
A sharp, gut-wrenching pang settled deep in my stomach.
I tightened my arms around her, pulling her closer, cradling her small frame against my neck.
My lips brushed the crown of her damp hair, pressing a soft kiss there as I whispered, "It's okay. You're okay, Mini."
She didn't respond.
Instead, she burrowed deeper into me, her fingers gripping at my shirt and forearm like she was afraid I'd disappear.
Her body was burning up, a fever still simmering beneath her fragile skin.
It was better than before, but still too high.
I clenched my jaw.
I fucking told her not to wear those pathetic excuses for clothes that barely provided any warmth.
"I think she should get changed," Liam's voice cut through the heavy silence.
I lifted my gaze.
He was standing there, unmoving, his eyes fixed on Iris's face like he had just seen a ghost.
His expression was unreadable— calm, detached— but there was something lurking beneath it. Something... off.
I didn't want to let go of her.
Didn't want to move her out of my arms.
But I knew she needed to clean up.
"Ace," Liam's voice echoed in the room, sharper this time, pulling me back to reality.
Reluctantly, I loosened my hold, allowing Melinda to take over.
The moment Iris clung to Melinda's arm instead of mine, something ugly twisted in my gut.
It was irrational— she needed care, and Melinda was the best person for that— but the sight of her leaning against someone else made my skin itch.
Melinda let out a soft laugh, brushing back Iris's damp hair. "Come on, sweetheart, let's get you cleaned up."
I watched as she led Iris away, my muscles tensing involuntarily.
I hated this.
Hated feeling this helpless.
After she disappeared down the hall, I turned to my so-called friends.
They all had the same expression— somewhere between shock, curiosity, and the unspoken "You better fucking explain this."
Except for Hudson.
Hudson didn't look curious.
He looked unimpressed.
Judgment burned in his stare, a silent "What the fuck, Ace?" clear in his sharp features.
Like he knew— before even I did— that I was completely and utterly fucked.
"I think you should also clean up," Athena piped up, her lips curling in distaste as her eyes flicked over my shirt, now stained with vomit.
Dramatic as always. It was just spit and puke.
I threw a glare in her direction before making my way to my room, stripping out of the soiled clothes and changing into a fresh black shirt.
By the time I returned to check on Iris, she was lying on the couch, completely passed out.
This girl never slept in a bed unless I dragged her there. Stubbornly.
With a careful touch, I slid my arms beneath her, lifting her effortlessly.
She barely stirred, her body limp in my grasp, her breath soft and warm against my collarbone.
As I eased her onto the bed, tucking the blankets around her, she shifted slightly, her lashes fluttering.
Drowsy brown eyes peeked up at me, still glazed with sleep.
"What are yo...u doing?" Her voice was a breathy murmur, slurred with exhaustion.
I huffed out a quiet sigh, settling beside her, my fingers instinctively brushing stray strands of hair away from her face.
I bent down, bringing my face close to hers, close enough that our breaths mingled in the quiet of the room.
Her skin was still warm—too warm.
And there was a faint metallic scent clinging to her, something that made my gut twist uneasily.
Yesterday, I'd barely gotten one tablet down her throat, and that was after holding her firmly in my arms and forcing her to swallow it.
"Nothing, sleep Mini," I whispered softly, pressing a kiss to the tip of her nose, then another against her flushed cheek.
It's so soft!! hell.
She blinked up at me, her gaze heavy with exhaustion. Dazed. Almost like a newborn seeing the world for the first time.
Something in my chest tightened.
She didn't say anything. Just stared.
I sighed, letting my cheek brush against hers, soaking in the warmth of her skin.
It felt... grounding.
A strange, sweet numbness spread through me, something I couldn't quite place but found soothing nonetheless.
"Hm~~" A soft hum vibrated against my collarbone as I dipped my head into the crook of her neck, inhaling her faint scent and lingering sickness.
My fingers moved on their own, gently rubbing her forehead, trying to ease the heat beneath my touch.
I let my lips trail small, careful kisses along her neck, feeling the softness of her skin beneath my mouth.
It wasn't lust.
It wasn't hunger.
It was something sweeter, gentler— a quiet pleasure that made me crave more of her presence, more of this closeness.
A sweet, numb pleasure.
I let my fingers slip into her hair, threading through the strands—only for them to get stuck midway in the gentle tangles.
A small smile tugged at my lips.
She murmured something, too soft to catch, before slipping deeper into sleep.
I watched her for a few more moments.
Her breathing was steady now. Peaceful.
The sharp worry that had wrapped around my ribs loosened, just a little.
With reluctance, I pulled myself away, forcing myself to stand.
I took one last look at her sleeping form before stepping out of the room, into the dimly lit hallway.
And that's when I heard it—
"Finally! You decided to come down." Liam's voice, laced with heavy sarcasm.
I barely spared him a glance as I walked in, but the weight of everyone's stares pressed against me like a goddamn vice.
Hudson leaned forward, elbows braced against his knees, eyes sharp and unreadable.
"Ace, explain?"
It wasn't a question.
It was a demand.
I met his gaze with a blank expression, my voice as casual as I could make it.
"Her name is Iris."
A beat of silence.
Hudson exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand down his face.
Really, Ace? That's the best you could come up with?
Leo scoffed, arms crossing over his chest.
His brows furrowed, his gaze flickering between me and the hallway I'd just come from.
"What is she doing here, and who is she to you?" His tone was sharp, edged with something I couldn't quite place.
Before I could answer, he added, "She doesn't look like a prostitute, not with the way you cared for her."
My jaw clenched.
The room went silent, thick with something heavy and unspoken.
I met Leo's gaze, something dangerous flashing in my own.
"No one," I said, my voice colder than I intended. "She is no one."
The words felt strange in my mouth.
Because the truth— the one I refused to admit— was something far more terrifying.
Was she really just no one to me?
"Oh really? For NO ONE, you hugged and calmed her down when she threw up, whispering sweet things and even let yourself get stained with vomit too," Felix interjected, his voice thick with mockery.
I shot him a glare, but he only grinned, enjoying himself far too much.
"And called her 'Mini' too," Aiden added, barely holding back his laughter.
I clenched my jaw, my fingers twitching at my sides.
They were toying with me. Fucking retards.
I needed to shift the conversation before they could tug harder.
"What happened to her, Hud?" I asked, voice sharp.
Hudson studied me, his eyes dark with scrutiny, like he could peel away my skin and read whatever the fuck was underneath. But he answered anyway.
"A sudden drop in blood pressure can cause unconsciousness sometimes."
That made sense.
"Or maybe she bumped into boss, hard, and fell, hitting the back of her head," Ivan added, his brows furrowing in recollection.
He nodded to himself. "Both could be the reason."
Hudson, the only qualified doctor among us, folded his arms and leveled me with a stare that was far too knowing. "Now, you still haven't answered our questions."
The weight of their collective gazes pressed into me like a silent interrogation.
I exhaled slowly, letting the cold calculation slide into place.
"She saw me killing some people. So she's here."
A simple, believable explanation. A lie, but not an obvious one.
Then—
They all exchanged glances that screamed "You think we're dumb?"
Why?
Was it not convincing?
Aiden snickered, shaking his head. "You need an excuse to kill humans, and you expect us to believe that? Coming from you?"
"She's here because one of my clients sold her to me since he couldn't pay his debt," I said, voice indifferent. It wasn't entirely untrue.
The deal had been done long ago, but it was enough to distract them.
I saw the flicker of intrigue in their eyes before Leo cut through it with razor-sharp skepticism.
"Since when did you start buying girls?" He arched an eyebrow. "We had a rule, remember?"
I could hear the unspoken words behind it.
We didn't deal in that kind of business.
We never crossed that line.
"Well, just started. She was worth millions," I lied smoothly.
The words felt foreign, even to me.
Felix exhaled, shaking his head in amusement. "Wow, so this is what you've been up to?"
I could feel it coming.
"I always knew you had a soft spot for... being a softie. But this? Buying girls? Next thing you know, you'll be hosting tea parties and knitting sweaters."
Felix snorted. "Yeah, Ace. Maybe you'll start a new trend: the fashionably lethal but surprisingly tender crime boss."
Laughter rippled through the group, casual, mocking, but beneath it—I could feel the tension simmering.
A test.
They were testing me.
Seeing if I'd crack.
If I'd admit that this wasn't just business.
"Shut up, both of you," I growled, my patience thinning.
If they weren't my friends, I would've slit their throats just for the fucking fun of it.
Cut them open piece by piece and fed their remains to the rats in the tunnels.
But they were my friends.
The only ones I had left.
She's cute," Felix commented, smirking.
Something inside me snapped before I could stop it.
"She's off-limits," I bit out, the warning unmistakable.
Felix raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "I just said she's cute, nothing else."
Liam, who had been unusually quiet, finally spoke. "What's her age?"
I didn't answer.
I just turned on my heel, stalking out of the house, my steps measured and controlled, the only sign of tension being the way my fists curled at my sides.
I needed out.
Away from their probing eyes, their questions, their fucking laughter.
The air outside was crisp, biting against my heated skin as I stepped into the night.
The moment I slid into my car, I exhaled slowly, gripping the wheel until my knuckles turned white.
The scent of her still clung to me—light, familiar, metallic, fucking intoxicating.
No one.
She was no one.
So why did it feel like a goddamn lie?
Felix POV:
"Why is he acting weird?" I asked out loud, more to myself than anyone else.
The question hung in the air for a second before my friends merely shrugged, as they started dispersing.
Typical.
The house was its usual brand of organized chaos—people moving in and out of rooms, conversations overlapping, the distant clatter of dishes from the kitchen.
The kind of noise we were all used to.
And yet, despite the familiarity, something felt... off.
I drummed my fingers on the armrest, my mind lingering on Ace's abrupt departure.
He ran.
Not literally, but in a way that mattered more.
Ace didn't run from situations—he steamrolled through them. He was always the one in control, the one pulling the strings, never the one backing away like he had something to fucking hide.
But this?
This was different.
Aiden strolled back into the room, wearing a robe—dramatically flapping it open like he was some kind of king.
"Maybe he's got a new hobby—collecting sick kittens," he joked.
I frowned, picking up a stray magazine from the coffee table, flipping through the pages without actually reading a single word.
"Sick kitten" was an oddly accurate way to describe that little girl.
She was fragile, weak in a way that was so unlike the women Ace usually had around.
The girls who came and went in his life were temporary, easily replaceable, perfectly detached.
She wasn't.
The way he had held her—like she was something precious, like she mattered—that wasn't normal for Ace.
I leaned back against the couch, tossing the magazine aside.
"Maybe it's love," Aiden mused, his voice laced with mischief as he plopped down beside me. "Or maybe he's just realized that his personal chef makes better coffee than he does."
I rolled my eyes. "Aiden, your jokes are as delightful as ever, but I don't think this is a culinary issue."
Aiden only grinned, but I wasn't joking.
I'd known Ace for years.
I'd seen him in situations most people wouldn't walk away from— negotiating with men who would slit your throat without blinking, walking into gunfights like he was untouchable, dealing with people who made the devil himself look tame.
And yet, he had never once looked as rattled as he did just now.
Over a girl.
It didn't make sense.
Ace didn't get attached.
He fucked, he used, he discarded— there was no emotional investment, no lingering concern.
And yet, the way he'd held her, the way his entire demeanor had shifted when she was sick, when she was trembling against him...
That wasn't Ace.
That was something else entirely.
I frowned, running a hand through my hair as I stood in the middle of the room, replaying the scene in my head.
The desperation in his voice when he called her name.
The way he had wiped her face clean like it was instinct.
The way he had lied.
Because that's what that was—a lie.
Ace was a lot of things, Even a good liar.
But when he said she's no one, it felt wrong. Forced.
Like he was trying to convince himself as much as us.
I exhaled sharply, shoving my hands into my pockets.
And the fact that he refused to acknowledge it—refused to share—meant one thing.
This wasn't just some random girl.
And if she was his weakness, that meant she was dangerous.
Not to him.
To us.
And if there was one thing about Ace— when he didn't want us to know something, it meant we needed to know it.
I clenched my jaw, dragging a hand down my face.
Whatever. I'll figure it out later.
Ace didn't share much with us. He never had. That wasn't new.
But that just meant we had to figure things out on our own— like always.
I turned on my heel, heading toward the hall to freshen up.
But my mind was already turning, already pulling at the threads of what I'd just seen.
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