Ace POV:

The numbers on my laptop screen blurred together as my mind drifted—drifted to her.

Sick, fragile, asleep in my bed, clinging to me like I was the only thing keeping her tethered to reality.

My fingers hovered over the keyboard, but all I could feel was the ghost of her warmth against my skin.

The way her breath had tickled my neck.

The way her body had trembled against mine.

I exhaled sharply and leaned back in my chair, rubbing my temples.

It was already 7 PM.

Which meant everyone was in the dining hall.

Which meant I was about to walk straight into another interrogation.

A sharp knock at the door snapped me back to the present. Athena.

"Dinner's ready," she said, her voice as indifferent as ever.

I didn't answer her, just pushed away from my desk and followed her to the dining hall, already feeling the weight of the scrutiny waiting for me.

The second I stepped into the room, I could feel it— the tension was so thick it was almost suffocating.

Conversations stilled. Forks scraped against plates.

And every single one of them had their eyes locked on me.

I frowned, scanning the table.

Mini wasn't here.

I pulled out my chair, casually scrolling through my phone, pretending I didn't feel the weight of their stares, pretending I wasn't already calculating where the fuck she was.

"So, Ace," Leo finally spoke, his voice light but edged with curiosity. "Where's the new girl?"

"I don't know," I murmured, dryly.

Athena— that bitch— decided to answer for me.

"She's eating with the maids," she said nonchalantly, and I could almost hear the smirk in her voice.

I froze.

What the fuck?

"Why the hell is she eating there?" Aiden asked, brows furrowed.

"Well, because she's a maid," Athena answered like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

My grip on my phone tightened.

That was a lie.

I never told her Mini was a maid.

But Athena had always been a problem— disobedient when she wanted to be, mouthy when it suited her, and always trying to push her luck with me.

"And for just a maid," Leo mused, tilting his head. "This man held her so gently and helped her this afternoon." He pointed at me with his fork, raising an eyebrow.

I almost laughed.

He had a point.

Aiden leaned back, stretching, his lips curling into a smirk. "He doesn't even give me water when I have a fever. Maybe I should take notes— next time I'm sick, I'll try showing up at his door in a cute apron."

Felix snorted, biting back a laugh.

I rolled my eyes, turning my glare to Athena.

I had told Athena not to mention anything about Iris and she obeyed because she doesn't have any choice or she is in a place to complain or disobey.

but I didn't tell her that Iris was a maid here. This bitch.

She knew I didn't tolerate disobedience. Yet here she was, running her fucking mouth.

Athena visibly stiffened.

Before I could say anything, Alex spoke, his tone sharp, final.

"Well, you're not his girl either," he shot at Athena. "If you can eat here, then so can she. I want her here now."

Athena scoffed but pushed away from the table.

Athena snickered at him and murmured incoherently under her breathe as she stood up to fetch Iris.

"I hate her," Alex muttered under his breath, stabbing his fork into his steak. "Why the hell can't you find a girl who's not a bitch?"

I shrugged. I didn't care enough to defend her.

After a minute, the sound of Athena's slippers echoed as she returned, followed by Iris.

A minute passed. Then, the soft padding of Athena's slippers echoed as she returned.

Empty-handed.

Leo sat up straighter, his brows drawing together. "Where is she?"

Why the fuck was he so interested?

"Coming," Athena muttered with an exaggerated eye roll. "Sorry, she was busy brushing up on her 'maid's guide to etiquette.'"

Liam scoffed, shaking his head. His voice was calm, almost bored as he turned to Athena.

"You better watch your attitude, girl," he said smoothly, tilting his head. "You're just a fuck. A whore who spreads her legs for pleasure and money. So you don't deserve this much attitude."

Athena's face remained neutral, her lips curling into a forced smile.

"And please," Aiden added with a smirk, leaning forward, "if you're about to start your pathetic sob story to justify why you're a whore? Don't."

Felix leaned back, grinning lazily. "Everyone has choices," he said, swirling his wine glass.

"You just chose the easy path. At least, that's what most girls say." He winked at her.

Athena's hands clenched into fists, her jaw tightening so hard I thought she might crack a tooth.

She was furious.

Good.

I wasn't in the fucking mood for her either.

And more importantly, I didn't give a fuck about her feelings.

All I cared about—all I fucking cared about—was the girl who should've been sitting here, nervously and shyly.

My ears perked up at the faintest sound— a soft yawn, barely audible over the quiet hum of conversation.

I turned my head, and there she was.

Iris.

She padded into the room hesitantly, her movements slow and uncertain, like she wasn't sure if she belonged here.

Her black hair was slightly mussed, her eyes still heavy with sleep as she rubbed them with the back of her hand.

And then I saw what she was wearing.

A long-sleeved shirt and dinosaur leggings.

Fucking adorable.

Something in my chest clenched, something sharp and unfamiliar.

I didn't like it. I hated it.

And yet... I couldn't look away.

Maybe it was the way she walked, her steps small and quiet, like she was afraid of making too much noise.

Or maybe it was the way she kept her head down, her body language screaming submissive, fragile, untouched.

Maybe I just wanted her to look at me.

No, scratch that.

I wanted all her attention.

On me.

Just fucking me.

Hudson cleared his throat, sitting up straighter. "Iris, we're all Ace's family," he said, his voice calm but firm, as if that should reassure her.

Her head jerked up slightly, and she hesitated before whispering, "Um... Hello."

Then, she fucking bowed.

To everyone.

The room fell into stunned silence.

Hudson blinked, clearly thrown off. No one had ever bowed to him before— especially not with such sincerity.

"Sit," Liam ordered, his voice sharp, his eyes burning into her.

Iris hesitated, her wide gaze flickering around the table. And then— She fucking sat on the floor.

What the actual fuck?

"What are you doing?" Leo demanded, looking as bewildered as I felt. "Sit on a chair."

Iris flinched at the sharpness in his tone.

She glanced at Athena—why her?—before quickly getting up and sliding into the farthest chair from us.

Too far away.

I fucking hated it.

Melinda began serving, moving gracefully as she placed dishes onto the table, but Iris barely lifted her head.

She looked stiff, her posture rigid, her small hands curled into fists in her lap.

"Dear, are you okay?" Melinda asked gently.

Iris only nodded, keeping her eyes downcast.

Something twisted in my gut.

Was she scared?

"So... Iris, what's your age?" Aiden asked, shattering the silence.

She lifted her head slightly, her lips parting as if to answer— But nothing came out.

Her throat bobbed, her eyes blinking rapidly, like she was trying to pull the words from the air but couldn't find them.

"A.h..."

Fuck.

"Seventeen," I muttered, shoving a spoonful of fried rice into my mouth, trying to drop the conversation before it spiraled.

Hudson shot me an unimpressed look. "Ace, we didn't ask you."

I scowled. "She wasn't going to answer. So! Thank me instead of being a bitch."

Before Hudson could respond, Aiden suddenly got up—what the fuck—and plopped down beside her.

My entire body went rigid.

"What are you doing, dickhead?" I growled, my voice low, warning.

Aiden ignored me.

"Hi, I'm Aiden Carter," he said smoothly, grinning at Iris. "I'm the boss of this group."

The fuck he was.

Iris stared at him, her expression unreadable, like he had just invited her to a surprise party she wanted no part of.

But after a moment, she hesitantly reached out and shook his hand.

I clenched my jaw so hard it ached.

Then, Aiden's gaze flickered to her arms.

"Your sleeves," he murmured, eyes narrowing.

I followed his line of sight.

Food stains. Smudged along her sleeves.

Before I could react, he reached out— touched her— and began folding her sleeves for her.

Iris stiffened, watching him like he had just done something completely foreign to her.

I, on the other hand, was about two fucking seconds away from grabbing Aiden by the collar and throwing him out of my house.

I didn't know why I was reacting this way.

I just knew that I wanted his hands off her.

Now.

Aiden's voice cut through the tension like a blade.

"Do you like bitter gourd?" The question was so random, so utterly stupid, that for a moment, I thought I'd misheard him.

Then, I saw her reaction.

Iris's face twisted in sheer disgust, mirroring Aiden's own look of exaggerated revulsion.

"I would rather die than eat that nauseous thing," Aiden declared dramatically.

Iris let out a small hum of agreement—and fucking smiled.

I gripped my fork tighter.

Why the hell is she smiling?

He didn't even say anything funny.

Aiden, oblivious—or maybe just too stupid to care—continued to prattle on, throwing out the most inane, useless questions like they were the most important things in the world.

And the worst part?

She answered him.

Not every time. But enough.

Enough to make me want to snap his fucking neck or maybe rip it off.

Idiot.

     The night was thick with smoke and the scent of burning tobacco, mingling with the sharp tang of alcohol in the air.

The backyard stretched out behind the house, dark and still, the only movement coming from the faint rustling of leaves as a breeze whispered through them.

The bottle of scotch in my hand was half-empty, and my cigarette burned low between my fingers, the ember flaring each time I took a drag.

But none of it—neither the alcohol nor the nicotine—did a damn thing to ease the restless energy coiling in my gut.

Across from me, Aiden leaned back lazily in his chair, tipping his beer bottle toward his lips as he muttered, "She seems like a good person."

I exhaled slowly, my grip on the glass tightening. Of course he'd say that

Liam let out a scoff before I could respond, shooting Aiden a pointed look. "Are you stupid? You just started talking to her! What if she's some sort of threat or trap?"

Aiden barely had time to react before Liam smacked him upside the head. The dull thwap echoed in the night air.

"Shit, man!" Aiden grumbled, rubbing the back of his head. He shot Liam a glare. "Look, I'm 23, not a toddler."

Felix, who had been watching with an amused grin, leaned forward.

"Yeah, but Ace is 25, and we all know that means he's soooo much more responsible," he drawled mockingly.

I didn't even acknowledge that. Not worth it.

Felix was also 25, Leo and Alex were 27, and Liam and Hudson were 28.

Leo stretched his arms above his head, then let them fall back onto the armrests of his chair with a satisfied sigh.

"I think her brain was damaged when we told her to sit in a chair, and she almost sat on the floor," he said with a chuckle.

Silence.

No one else laughed.

Leo looked around, clearly expecting someone to back him up. When no one did, he groaned, rolling his eyes. "What? It's funny! Come on, guys, lighten up!"

Stupid.

The irritation simmering beneath my skin boiled over. I downed the last of my scotch, letting the burn settle in my chest as I stood up.

I needed to get the fuck out of here.

The chair scraped against the patio as I pushed it back.

I could feel their eyes on me, their curiosity thick in the air, but I ignored them.

"Where's the shortcake staying?" Felix's voice rang out, laced with amusement.

I stopped mid-step.

A slow, humorless chuckle rumbled from my chest. Without turning around, I lifted my hand in the air and gave him a well-deserved middle finger.

Laughter erupted behind me.

"Fuck you too!" Felix called after me, still chuckling.

I rolled my eyes and kept walking.

He thinks I'll tell him?

Fuck no.

Athena was waiting outside my bedroom door, looking at me with a hopeful expression.

"Can I sleep with you tonight?" she asked, tilting her head slightly, her voice soft but laced with expectation.

"No," I said flatly.

No hesitation. No explanation. Just no.

And then I shut the door in her face.

I turned around, only to find Iris standing in front of the couch, her small frame barely illuminated by the dim bedside lamp.

She let out a soft yawn, rubbing one sleepy eye with the heel of her palm.

Her clothes looked even bigger on her, making her seem even smaller.

Something in my chest tightened.

I strolled toward the glass window, already knowing what I'd see.

And there they were.

My friends pretending not to be watching. But I knew better. They were waiting. Anticipating.

Fuck them.

Roughly, I yanked the curtains shut, letting the thick fabric swallow the moonlight completely.

I sighed, rubbing a hand over my jaw before settling onto the edge of my bed, stretching my legs out comfortably.

"Mini bear," I murmured, patting my lap.

Her body stiffened instantly. Her eyes flicked between my face and my lap, like she was weighing her options.

Like she was deciding whether to obey or run.

She approached hesitantly, standing in front of my leg but not quite sitting.

"Boss..." she whispered, her voice fragile. "Please leave me."

I stilled.

She clasped her hands together in front of her chest, her head bowing low, her whole posture screaming defeat.

"I am so thankful you helped me when I was sick, but please leave me. I am no use to you; I will not tell anyone anything," she pleaded, her fingers twisting against each other.

I reached out, gripping her waist lightly, my fingers tracing slow circles against the fabric of her shirt, trying to steady her.

The closeness made our height difference more apparent— her small frame, my hands nearly spanning her entire waist.

I pulled her in just a little more, lowering my voice.

"Mini bear," I murmured, my fingers still stroking her waist, "is someone hurting you here?"

She blinked, startled, looking up at me before quickly glancing away.

"Especially Athena?" I added, watching her closely.

She swallowed hard, her head shaking. "No," she mumbled.

Her voice was barely above a whisper, but the way she looked at her hands—like they were the most fascinating thing in the world—made me question if she was telling the truth.

Her fingers fidgeted, twisting and turning over each other like she was trying to keep herself occupied.

"Look at me, Mini," I coaxed gently.

She hesitated before meeting my gaze.

"Then why were you going to sit on the floor instead of a chair?" I asked, watching her reaction closely.

Was this some kind of game?

Some way to gain sympathy?

She looked confused for a second, tilting her head slightly, then spoke as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Well, I am a maid," she said simply. "That's why."

My fingers stilled against her waist.

The way she said it. No anger. No bitterness. Just... acceptance.

Like she'd convinced herself that this was all she was worth.

I leaned forward, my grip tightening just a little.

"You're not a maid," I said firmly.

And before she could react, I pulled her into my lap, adjusting her until she straddled my waist, her knees pressing against either side of me.

She let out a startled gasp, her hands pushing weakly against my chest.

I caught her wrists, holding them gently but firmly.

"Why do you always push me away?" I murmured, my voice dipping into something almost playful. Almost.

She struggled in my hold, squirming against me.

"Don't you like me?" I teased, tilting my head slightly.

Her breath hitched.

I rocked us back and forth slowly, like a human swing, my hands resting at the small of her back.

I wanted to see her smile. Not the small, barely-there ones. Not the polite ones.

The kind she gave Aiden.

Even just a little.

"Boss, there are so many people out there who like you. It doesn't matter if I like you or not," she murmured, her gaze dropping to my neck, a strange mix of curiosity and wariness in her eyes.

That look—like she was studying me, like she wasn't afraid but still hesitant.

It stirred something deep in my gut.

I leaned in, my voice dropping to something quieter, something meant only for her. "Well, I don't care about others right now. I want to know if you like me or not."

She blinked, staring at me with those damn eyes.

Then, with the flattest, most unimpressed tone, she said, "No, boss. I don't like you."

The audacity of this girl.

A slow smirk tugged at the corner of my lips. I could feel something dark curling inside me— amusement, annoyance, something else.

Before she could process it, I flipped us over, pinning her beneath me with ease.

A sharp yelp escaped her lips, her small hands pressing against my chest in a weak attempt to push me away.

Her eyes widened, shock flickering through them like she hadn't expected me to react like this.

"You should show your eyes to some fine doctor," I muttered, watching her closely.

She was still staring at me, not with fear, but with something unreadable. Something that made my fingers twitch against the sheets.

"My eyes are perfectly fine, boss," she quipped, her voice still steady, still trying to play her little game.

"They're just tired from trying to figure out why you're holding me against my will."

I chuckled. Fucking hell.

Her lips jutted out in a pout, her brows furrowing just slightly, and for some reason, that made my chest tighten.

I let out another laugh, tilting my head. "Oh, my Mini," I mused between chuckles.

She didn't respond.

A comfortable silence fell over the room, stretching between us like something fragile, something that neither of us wanted to break.

I expected her to push me away, to squirm out of my grip like she always did.

But she didn't.

She just lay there beneath me, her breathing slow, her eyes distant.

Like she was lost in something too heavy, something she didn't want to voice.

I watched her carefully, my fingers idly tracing patterns against the fabric of her shirt.

"If someone hurt you here, would you tell me?" I asked, voice quieter, sharper.

Her gaze snapped up to meet mine.

Something flickered through her expression— hesitation, softness, a kind of vulnerability I wasn't used to seeing.

Then, just as quickly as it appeared, it was gone.

"No."

One word. Firm. Final.

I narrowed my eyes.

"No one is hurting me," she murmured.

And then—out of nowhere—her teeth sank into my shoulder.

A sharp sting shot through my body, hot and unexpected. I hissed, jerking back slightly.

The little brat.

She rolled away before I could react, landing on the floor with a loud thud.

Then, standing up, she looked at me with an almost triumphant expression, her arms crossed over her chest like she had just won some kind of battle.

My gaze dropped to my shoulder where her teeth had left faint marks, a smirk playing at my lips.

"If you wanted to bite, you could've just said so," I murmured, voice dark with amusement. "I could've given you something better to sink your teeth into... like my neck."

Her eyes widened, her lips parting slightly.

Good.

But then she recovered too quickly, scowling and muttering, "That was self-defense."

She shot me a smug look, clearly pleased with herself.

I huffed out a chuckle, shaking my head as I leaned back against the bed.

She turned away, making her way to the couch, wrapping herself in a blanket like some tiny cocoon, her toes wiggling beneath the fabric.

I watched her.

Watched the way she tucked herself in.

Watched the way she avoided looking at me.

I should have gotten up.

I should have walked over and pulled her back onto the bed.

I should have reminded her that she belonged here.

But instead, I just lay there, my fingers absentmindedly tracing over the place where she bit me.

I should have been annoyed.

Instead, I found myself smirking.

Suddenly, her gaze met mine, and I felt my heart skip a beat.

There was something about her eyes, the way they held a world of my past memories, that always caught me off guard.

Then, her sleepy voice cut through the quiet.

"Good night, boss. I hope a lizard falls on your face."

I let out a low chuckle, shaking my head.

She was fucking ridiculous.

And yet—

I slept well that night.

Because for the first time in a long time, the presence of another person didn't feel suffocating.

And her soft snores filled the room.

NEXT MORNING

The rhythmic clang of weights echoed through the gym, accompanied by the heavy scent of sweat and iron.

I moved with precision, my muscles burning with each rep, my mind elsewhere.

The pull, the strain—it grounded me, kept the frustration at bay.

Last night had been... good.

Iris hadn't laughed, not with me, but I had.

I shouldn't care that she laughed with Aiden. But it gnawed at me.

Aiden, with his stupid jokes, his childish charm—he made her laugh, made her lower her guard.

I wanted that.

I wanted her to look at me the way she looked at him in those fleeting moments.

I wanted her small teeth showing, her eyes glistening, her cheeks lighting up like she wasn't trapped in a place she didn't want to be.

But she only ever looked at me with hesitation. With wariness.

Like she was still trying to decide if I was worse than whatever she had already survived.

My grip on the dumbbells tightened.

I was spiraling.

Then— splash.

Ice-cold water drenched my back, seeping through my shirt, shocking my already overheated skin.

I turned sharply, my glare murderous, only to find Felix standing there with an empty water bottle, his grin wide and unapologetic.

"Dumbass," I muttered.

Felix only smirked. "You were smiling alone." He wiggled his eyebrows like an idiot, but his eyes were sharp.

I clenched my jaw and turned away, picking up my weights again. Ignore him. Ignore all of them.

But, of course, Aiden had to fucking chime in.

"OHHH!!! Ace smiled," he sang, dragging out the words with exaggerated glee.

I imagined punching him square in the throat then he would let out a choked–

"So, who's the lucky human making our Ace smile all by himself?" Felix continued, his voice laced with mock innocence.

"Maybe it's Athena," Aiden chimed in, his expression twisting into exaggerated disgust. "Gross."

"Shut up, Aiden," I said, my voice quiet but edged with something dangerous.

Leo snorted. "Oh, come on, Ace. We're just messing with you."

But his eyes were watchful, too. Like he was really waiting for an answer.

I didn't give them one.

Because the truth was a dangerous fucking thing.

"Come on, Ace. We're just messing with you," Leo said, chuckling. "But seriously, who were you thinking about?"

I finished my set and dropped the weights, the thud echoing through the gym like a warning.

"Aw, don't be like that, Ace," Aiden taunted, grinning. "We're just having fun."

"Yeah. Fun," I drawled, my voice flat. My patience had thinned to a single, fraying thread.

I grabbed a towel, wiping the sweat from my neck.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I have actual work to do."

I didn't wait for a response.

Didn't acknowledge the laughter that followed me as I walked out.

I needed to get out of here.

Iris's POV

"Who do you think you are, huh?!"

Jeremy's voice was a snarl, raw and unforgiving, his breath hot against my face.

His fingers dug into my collar, the fabric biting into my throat as he yanked me up like I weighed nothing.

The sting of his grip burned against my skin, a cruel promise of bruises that would bloom by morning.

My feet barely touched the floor before I was shoved back against the wall, my head knocking against the unforgiving surface with a dull thud.

Pain shot through my skull, but I swallowed back the gasp threatening to escape.

I knew better than to cry.

"Next time, be responsible," Jeremy sneered, his face twisted in irritation.

For what?

I didn't even know what I had done this time.

The shattered glasses on the floor weren't my fault—someone else had bumped into me.

But that didn't matter. Nothing ever mattered except finding someone to blame.

And that someone was always me.

I forced my feet to move, my body screaming in protest as I turned toward the coffee machine.

My hands shook as I measured out the grounds, the rhythmic sound of coffee dripping into the pot barely masking the quiet, strangled sobs hitching in my throat.

Tears blurred my vision, but I didn't let them fall.

Crying would only make it worse.

"I'm sorry."

Brent's voice was softer than usual, the sympathy in his eyes making my chest ache in a way that had nothing to do with Jeremy's slap.

He pressed an ice pack into my palm, his fingers warm against my trembling ones.

I forced a small smile.

"Thank you," I whispered, pressing the ice against my cheek.

The cold stung at first, then dulled into a numbing relief, contrasting the heat radiating from my skin where Jeremy's hand had struck.

Brent didn't say anything else.

He just turned back to his work, kneading dough with the same steady, practiced movements, as if nothing had happened.

Because nothing had.

Not really.

By the time my shift ended, it was already 9:30 PM.

Every inch of my body ached— my feet, my arms, my shoulders.

Even my ribs felt sore, as if exhaustion itself had settled deep into my bones.

My stomach growled in protest, but I ignored it.

Melinda had given me extra food today. I had eaten more than usual.

But still, I felt empty.

The bus stop was deserted.

Not a single bus in sight.

Just silence.

The night air wrapped around me, cold and heavy, sinking into my skin like a second layer.

I lowered myself onto the metal bench, the icy surface biting through my clothes.

I pulled my knees close, hugging them to my chest in a feeble attempt to keep warm.

I stared at the road.

Nothing.

The city was alive somewhere—cars honking in the distance, laughter spilling out of late-night bars—but here, in this quiet corner, I might as well have been invisible.

Hours passed.

Still, no bus.

I tilted my head back, my gaze drifting up to the sky. The stars glimmered faintly, scattered across the darkness, distant and indifferent.

It was a beautiful night.

But it didn't feel beautiful.

It felt... hollow.

Because no one was waiting for me.

No one was worrying about why I wasn't home yet.

No one would wonder where I had gone if I simply never arrived.

Jeremy wouldn't care.

Brent might frown the next morning, but he wouldn't ask.

And Melinda?

She had her own life, her own problems. She was kind, but kindness wasn't the same as love.

No one loved me.

Not selflessly. Not enough to notice when I was breaking apart.

The thought sat heavy in my chest, suffocating.

I hugged my knees tighter, burying my face against them, wishing—just for a moment—that someone, anyone, would come looking for me.

Suddenly, I saw two men walking toward the bus shelter, and anxiety clawed at my chest, tightening with every step they took.

The first man spoke, his voice cutting through the heavy silence of the night.

"What are you doing here this late, kiddo?"

His tone held a strange mix of concern and curiosity, but something about it made my skin crawl. I forced myself to glance at my phone.

10 PM. Oh no.

My heart lurched violently against my ribs. Ace is going to kill me.

The last time I came back late, I ended up with a fever.

I shot up from the bench so fast that my vision spun. I had to get home. Now.

"Whoa! Wait, kid," the other man called behind me.

I ignored them and started walking quickly, but their footsteps followed.

"We can give you a ride if you want. I mean, it's so late, who knows what could happen to you."

I froze. The words hit like a sharp gust of winter air, chilling me to the bone.

He wasn't wrong. Things happened to girls out alone at night.

Last time...

A violent shudder crawled down my spine.

I swallowed, hard. "O-Okay," I murmured. "Only if I'm not being a burden."

Neither of them answered.

A heavy silence settled between us as I followed them toward their vehicle.

A few steps in, I tried again. "Um, thank you. I appreciate it."

Still, no reply.

A slow, creeping unease twisted in my stomach, each step toward the vehicle tightening it like a vice.

Then, the second man finally spoke.

"No, more like you're a profit for us."

I stopped cold.

The breath in my lungs stilled as dread gripped me, sharp and suffocating.

Run. Run now.

I turned on my heel, but it was too late.

Hands clamped onto my arms, rough and unyielding. My scream barely left my lips before a palm covered my mouth, stifling it into a muffled whimper.

I kicked, thrashed, my heart slamming wildly against my ribs, but they were stronger.

No, no, no!

They dragged me, my shoes scraping against the pavement as I fought.

"Let me go!" I tried to scream, but it came out garbled, lost against the damp press of fingers over my mouth.

They hauled me into the alleyway, the shadows swallowing us whole.

The stench of rotting garbage filled my nostrils, thick and nauseating. My head spun, panic clouding my thoughts.

"No, no!" I choked out as they forced me onto the filthy ground.

Their hands were iron shackles, locking me in place. No matter how hard I struggled, they only held me tighter.

Panic clawed at my throat, strangling me with every shallow breath I took.

My heart pounded so violently it felt like it might burst through my ribs.

"Help me!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, my voice echoing off the narrow walls.

Stupid, stupid Iris.

The weight of one of them settled over me, pressing me into the filth. My thrashing limbs only made them chuckle.

The man above me leaned in, inhaling deeply near my neck.

"God, you smell so sweet."

A sickening wave of nausea rolled through me.

"Please no—" A strangled sob tore from my lips as I twisted, trying to break free.

He grinned—a cruel, predatory stretch of his mouth.

His fingers dug into my skin, gripping me so hard it felt like he wanted to carve his possession into me.

Then his tongue dragged across my collar.

A violent shudder wracked my body.

The other man laughed, his breath reeking of cigarettes as he leaned down beside me.

"She's already shaking," he taunted. "Like a little rabbit."

My stomach twisted, bile rising in my throat.

Then—his hands. Rough, forceful, violating.

He groped me, squeezing, pressing, his touch like fire scorching my skin.

"Stop! STOP!" I screamed, thrashing so wildly that my shoulder slammed into the pavement.

A sharp burst of pain shot through me, but I barely noticed.

Tears blurred my vision, hot and endless.

My mind went blank with terror.

"Someone, please."

I squeezed my eyes shut.

I prayed. I prayed to anyone.

And then—

BANG.

A gunshot.

The man above me lurched forward, a strangled scream ripping from his throat before he crumpled.

I gasped, my breath hitching, my body convulsing with relief and shock.

I shoved him off me, scrambling backward on shaking limbs, my lungs burning for air.

My head spun, but I forced my eyes open.

The other man—he bolted.

Another shot.

He dropped, wailing in agony as he clutched his leg.

The alley flooded with movement. Figures emerged from the darkness, cutting through the night with swift, commanding strides.

Flashing lights painted the grimy walls in red and blue.

Police.

Relief surged through me so violently I nearly collapsed.

My knees buckled, and I barely caught myself, my hands scraping against the rough pavement.

A shadow loomed over me.

"Look, kid," an officer said, his voice firm yet strangely gentle. "Breathe. Just breathe."

I sucked in a shaky gasp, trying—failing—to calm the violent tremors wracking my body.

A hand hovered near my shoulder, hesitant, before he decided against it.

"You hurt?" he asked.

I shook my head quickly, but my throat closed up when I tried to speak.

My body was screaming, raw with pain, but I wasn't injured. Not in the way that mattered.

After a few moments of scanning me for injuries, the officer sighed.

"We'll take you to the station. We need a statement."

I nodded numbly, my mind still reeling, my body locked in a state of sheer exhaustion.

The air inside the police station was sterile, cold.

I sat on a hard plastic chair, my arms wrapped around myself, trying to keep from falling apart.

An officer crouched in front of me, his sharp eyes scanning my face.

"Is there someone you can call to pick you up?"

Someone?

I hesitated. My mind whirled, grasping at the idea of anyone who would come for me.

I fumbled with my phone and called Helen.

It rang once.

Twice.

"No way! I'm not coming to get you, especially at this time!"

Her voice sliced through me like a knife.

I blinked.

The rejection hit harder than I expected, knocking the air from my lungs.

"Helen—please, I—"

"Figure it out yourself," she snapped before the line went dead.

A deep, suffocating ache spread through my chest.

The officer exhaled, shaking his head. His lips pressed into a thin line, his concern evident.

"Sir... she's out of town," I mumbled, forcing the lie through my trembling lips. "Can I just go by myself?"

He studied me for a long moment.

Then, finally, he sighed.

"Fine, kid. But next time, be more aware of who you're trusting. We can't save you every time."

The words stung.

Not because they were cruel, but because they were true.

I nodded.

By the time I left the station, the city had fallen into a suffocating silence.

It was past midnight.

The streets stretched empty before me, bathed in the cold glow of streetlights. Each step felt heavier than the last, exhaustion dragging at my bones.

My body ached.

My mind buzzed with static.

I was alive. Barely.

But who cared?

No one was waiting for me.

No one was worrying about me.

The thought twisted inside me like a knife, sharp and merciless.

I swallowed the lump in my throat, staring up at the blackened sky.

The stars were still there, distant and untouchable.

I exhaled a shaky breath, my voice barely a whisper.

"God, can't you just kill me again?"

Ivan POV:

"Really?" I asked, keeping my tone amused, though the story itself was anything but.

Aiden grinned, leaning back in his chair. "Yeah. Then I shot him right in the head. Perfect shot ever."

His voice carried an almost childlike excitement, as if he were recalling a game rather than a kill.

"Well, it is," I admitted, because for Aiden, it probably was.

Felix, ever the curious one, tilted his head. "Where's the shortcake?"

Ace, lounging with his glass of scotch, barely spared him a glance. "Whoring around."

His voice was flippant—but I caught the slight edge in it.

The way he rolled his eyes, the way his fingers tapped against his glass with just a fraction too much force.

I glanced at my watch.

Iris was late.

Not just five or ten minutes— really late.

A tight feeling coiled in my gut. She was never reckless about time, not unless something was wrong.

"She doesn't seem like that type of girl," Leo mused, taking a slow sip of his beer.

"Damn, Ace," Felix chuckled. "You sound mad. You jealous or something?"

Ace snorted. "Jealous? Of what?" He took a slow sip of his scotch, letting the burn settle before continuing.

Leo exhaled through his nose. "Maybe she lost track of time."

Ace let out a dry laugh. "You think she's that careless? Please. If anything, she's annoyingly responsible."

Felix clicked his tongue. "So... either she's with someone or she's in trouble."

The air shifted.

The room didn't exactly go silent, but something in it changed— like a wire pulled too tight, waiting to snap.

No one acknowledged Felix's words outright, but they lingered.

Ace's fingers tightened around his glass, his knuckles turning pale.

His expression didn't change much, but his jaw set, a muscle ticking beneath his skin. His scotch sat untouched now.

Something ugly twisted in my gut.

I pushed back from the table, standing abruptly. I pulled out my phone, scrolling to Iris's contact with mounting urgency.

My thumb hovered for less than a second before I pressed dial.

Ace didn't move. Didn't react.

But when I glanced at him again, his eyes—shaded beneath the dim lights—had darkened into something dangerous.

The phone rang. Once. Twice.

Then, finally, her voice came through the line. Weak. Trembling. "Hello?"

Something in me turned ice-cold.

"Iris, where are you? Are you okay?" My words came out sharper than I intended, but I couldn't stop it.

A shaky breath filtered through the receiver.

"Sir... Can...you pick me up... please?" The quiet plea in her voice sent a sharp pang through my chest.

There was desperation there, but shame too.

"Okay, but where are you?" I was already heading for the car, fishing out my keys.

"Police station," she whispered, and my heart plummeted.

The weight of those two words hit like a gut punch.

"Okay, Iris, I don't know what you did, but stay at the police station and don't go anywhere," I said, running faster .

I didn't hear her response, barely registered the voices behind me. I got in the car, heart hammering too fast as I started the engine.

The drive was a blur of streetlights and distorted reflections against the wet pavement.

My fingers drummed against the steering wheel impatiently, thoughts racing, trying to make sense of why she would be at a police station.

And more than that— why she sounded the way she did.

By the time I pulled up in front of the building, my pulse was an erratic thunder in my veins.

And then I saw her.

Sitting on the curb just outside, curled in on herself.

She was playing with the frayed ends of her shoelaces, fingers tugging at them absently, over and over— like if she let go, the world might swallow her whole.

She wasn't crying.

But something about her was even worse.

I got out of the car, my steps quick, controlled. "Iris, what the fuck happened?"

She flinched. It was subtle, barely noticeable, but I caught it.

Her head lifted slowly, almost reluctant, like she wasn't sure she wanted to meet my eyes.

And when she did—

Jesus.

Her skin was paler than usual, washed out beneath the harsh glow of the streetlights.

Dark circles shadowed her eyes, and her lips were slightly chapped. But it was her cheeks that stopped me cold.

Faint, almost fading—but unmistakable. Finger marks.

I stared. My hands clenched at my sides.

I forced my voice to stay even, but it still came out rough. "Iris... your cheeks."

She averted her gaze, shifting uncomfortably.

"Can we go away from here... please, sir?"

Her voice—so small, so quiet—felt like a blade straight through the ribs.

I took a breath. My fists tightened, then released.

"Yeah. Let's go." I wanted to press her for answers.

I wanted to know who the fuck had touched her, why she looked like she'd barely managed to hold herself together.

But I knew now wasn't the time.

So I did the only thing I could.

I opened the car door, and I got her the fuck out of there.

Fifteen minutes. That's how long it took to get her back.

It felt like an eternity.

The entire drive, Iris sat curled in the passenger seat, small and silent.

I had seen exhaustion before, had seen fear and grief in more ways than I cared to count, but there was something different about her now.

Something which was on the edge of being broken.

I wanted to ask, but she wasn't ready to talk. I could feel it.

So I kept quiet.

When we pulled up to the mansion, she hesitated before stepping out, blinking as if she was just now remembering where she was.

"Iris," I called, voice firm but careful.

She flinched.

Shit.

I softened my tone. "Come on."

Her head snapped up, eyes darting to mine, and for a brief second, I saw shame.

Thick and suffocating. Then, just as quickly, she looked away.

She climbed out on her own.

Stiff, slow, her hands curling into the hem of her shirt like she was trying to hold herself together.

I parked the car and turned toward the entrance, fully intending to find Ace before he lost his goddamn mind.

But as soon as I stepped onto the front yard, I knew I was already too late.

God fucking gracious.

Ace was waiting.

The rest of the guys stood around him, all of them unnervingly still, watching with barely concealed wariness.

Even Liam, who usually stayed quiet, had a hard look in his eyes.

And Iris?

She looked like she had walked straight into a storm.

Ace's face was unreadable—cold, calculated—but his eyes?

His eyes were a fucking hurricane.

"Tell me, Iris! Are you satisfied whoring around, or should I get you some more guys?"

Fucking hell.

I stiffened, glancing at Iris, who visibly recoiled at the venom in his voice.

Her entire body shrank under the weight of his words, and for the first time, I saw fear replace exhaustion.

No.

Not like this.

"Boss, you misunderstood her," I interjected quickly, stepping forward before this spiraled out of control.

Ace's head snapped toward me, his expression darkening.

"Really, Ivan?"

His voice was like a blade—sharp, edged with something lethal.

I swallowed, keeping my stance steady. "Look, I picked her up from—"

"Zip it."

His voice was final. Deadly.

I clenched my jaw, watching helplessly as he turned his full attention back to Iris.

She didn't even move when he grabbed her.

His fingers wrapped around her throat— not enough to choke, but enough to remind her exactly how angry he was.

"I asked you something. Where were you all this time?"

She didn't answer.

Not because she was defiant, not because she was being difficult—no, she was too scared.

And Ace? He was too fucking blinded by rage to see it.

"If you don't speak now, I swear I will kill you right here without a second thought."

"Ace," Hudson moved. Just a shift in weight, a sign he was ready to step in.

Good. Because this was getting dangerous.

Iris let out a fractured sob, her small hands weakly pushing at Ace's grip, her body trembling like a cornered animal.

"I'm sorry," she whimpered, and it hit me then—she wasn't afraid of dying.

She was afraid of him.

Ace's fingers curled around her cheeks, forcing her to look up at him.

Her breath came in ragged gasps, the weight of his dominance, his rage, his twisted anger pressing down on her.

Her cries were pitiful. Wrecked.

"Ace, calm down. You can talk to her tomorrow," Alex tried, his voice measured, controlled.

"Y-y-you're e-evil," Iris stammered, her entire body trembling.

Ace's lips curled into a sinister smile.

"Oh, took you time to realize, Mini."

Then— The gun.

I barely had time to react before Ace drew his pistol, pressing it against her bare stomach.

Iris screamed.

A blood-curdling, piercing wail that echoed into the night. She shoved at his chest, weak and desperate, but futile against his strength.

Ace didn't move.

Didn't even blink.

There was no anger in his eyes anymore. No fury. No fire.

Nothing.

It was as if he had shut himself off entirely, retreating into a void so deep that even he couldn't find himself anymore.

Then—

Bang.

The first gunshot cracked through the night, ripping through the oppressive silence.

Two.

Three.

Four.

The deafening shots rang out, their echoes bouncing off the trees.

Iris shrieked, the sound raw and jagged, as if the bullets had torn through her instead.

She twisted in his grip, trying to free herself, but it was pointless.

Her frail frame was nothing against him.

Every breath she took was ragged, fractured, like she couldn't get enough air into her lungs.

Her knees buckled beneath her, and for a brief second, I thought she might collapse.

Ace didn't move.

Didn't breathe.

His arm was still extended, the gun held loosely in his fingers.

Everyone, including Liam, usually the quiet observer, stood up, their eyes glued to the disturbing scene.

And then I saw it— the way Ace's fingers curled slightly around the trigger again, how his grip tightened just enough to make my stomach twist in dread.

The realization hit me like a freight train.

He wasn't done.

He was about to press the burning barrel against her bare skin.

My blood turned to ice.

Gosh, this is fucking hell.

"Ace! She was at the police station! I picked her up, for God's sake!" I shouted, my voice hoarse, desperate.

Ace's head snapped towards me so fast that I felt my pulse stutter. For a fraction of a second, his expression was unreadable.

Then, his lips curled.

"Really, Ivan?" His voice was dripping with cold sarcasm, like my words were nothing more than a pathetic excuse.

I wanted to grab him by the collar and shake him, but I wasn't a fucking idiot.

"She was at the police station, Ace."

Ace's dark eyes bore into mine, dissecting, calculating. For a long, excruciating moment, he said nothing.

Iris continued to tremble in his grasp, pushing against him with all her might

Then—

"Iris, what happened?"

His voice had shifted.

It was still cold. But there was something else there now—something razor-sharp, something dangerous.

Iris looked up at him with tear-filled eyes, her voice barely a whisper, "...B..Ba..d..t-uch."

Her breathing was labored, shallow, uneven. The room seemed to shrink around us, pressing in with suffocating weight.

No one spoke. No one moved.

The only sound was the fractured, trembling breaths that escaped her lips.

"What do you mean?" Ace's voice was flat, but there was something else beneath it—something coiled tight, like a predator waiting for confirmation before striking.

"Two men," Iris managed to gasp out, her chest heaving with each ragged breath.

Aiden, always the one to catch on first, exhaled slowly.

"Two men... bad touch." He repeated her words with careful deliberation, piecing together the fragments she could barely voice.

"Two men tried to rape you?" Hudson's voice was sharp with concern, his brows furrowing deeply.

Iris flinched, coughing violently.

"Two men...b-b-bad touch." She wheezed, her body trembling as she tried to form the words.

Her breathing grew more erratic, like each syllable physically hurt to speak.

I felt my stomach twist into knots. Fuck.

"Iris, did they do anything to you?" Ace's voice shifted, the steel beneath it giving way to something different. Something darker.

The air around him seemed to pulse, his stillness more terrifying than his anger.

She shook her head—then nodded. The hesitation made my skin crawl.

Ace took a single step back from her, his eyes scanning every inch of her face with that razor-sharp intensity that made anyone fold in his presence.

"Then how did you get the marks?" I asked, my own voice quieter now, struggling to understand.

I needed her to say it.

The second the words left my mouth, Ace moved.

The gun slipped from his hand, hitting the marble floor with a sharp metallic clatter that echoed through the silence.

It was the first time I had ever seen him drop a weapon voluntarily.

Then, as if possessed by something raw and unseen, his fingers traced over her wrist, ghosting over the faint bruises.

He didn't squeeze, didn't apply pressure.

His fingers reached her throat, the same throat he had wrapped his hand around moments ago.

He traced the faint red marks on her skin, his movements almost reverent. But then he froze.

I saw it happen in real-time— the realization, the weight of it, the way his entire world shifted in the span of a single breath.

Ace went completely still.

His face darkened into something unrecognizable, shadows pooling under his eyes.

His lips parted slightly, but no words came. A look of regret flickered across his features, so brief I almost thought I imagined it.

Then, he did something that made my breath catch.

He touched her cheek.

Not roughly. Not like before.

His thumb ghosted over her skin so gently, so carefully, that if I hadn't witnessed what had just happened, I wouldn't have believed it was the same man.

"Iris." Her name was a whisper, barely audible, but the way he said it sent a shiver down my spine.

It wasn't cold. It wasn't demanding.

It was something else— something foreign. Something dangerously soft.

She covered her face and started sobbing, her cries broken and raw.

"I want t..to d-die," she choked out, muffled behind her hands. "I am... y-you're evil."

Ace inhaled slowly, as if the words physically struck him, but his expression didn't change.

He simply reached for her, lifting her in his arms with a quiet finality, his grip firm yet careful.

His grip tightened. Possessive. Protective.

"Li voglio entrambi nel seminterrato entro domattina (I want both of them in the basement by the morning)," he commanded, his voice once again steel, but beneath it lurked something primal.

Something that promised pain.

No one questioned him. No one even breathed too loudly.

The room remained suspended in stunned silence, the weight of what had just happened pressing down on us like an unbearable force.

Hudson exhaled sharply, his expression twisted in disbelief.

"How the hell did she end up in his hands?" His voice was filled with frustration.

"Faith," Alex said quietly, shaking his head. The word hung between us, thick with meaning.

Iris, who had already suffered so much, was now caught in the gravitational pull of something far more dangerous than she realized.

And as I watched Ace disappear with her in his arms, I had one chilling thought—

Even if he is my boss, even if I have seen him do things that should haunt my nightmares, we all know how heartless he can be.