Kianna’s Pov:
The safe house felt like a cage—too quiet and too dim. The air in here was thick with the scent of gun oil and stale coffee that Mordred always left brewing.
Lysander and I had raced here after that horrifying video call from Maddox, my heart was pounding the whole way with visions of Lesley bound and terrified against the chair, flashing like nightmares.
Lysander had driven, his good hand gripping the wheel tight with his face set in that determined mask he wore when things got bad.
"We’ll wait here," he’d said, as if Mordred’s place was neutral ground.
But nothing felt neutral anymore—not after seeing Mordred tied up, bloodied but defiant, in that grainy feed.
We paced the living room, the clock ticking like a bomb. Lysander leaned against the wall, his bandaged arm slung across his chest, eyes flicking to his phone every few seconds.
"He’ll be fine," he muttered, more to himself than . "Guy’s built like a tank."
I nodded, but my stomach twisted. And when Mordred called and finally announced it was all over now. I exhaled deeply, it was as if so burden had been raised from my head.
Maddox’s obsession, Kylie’s grudge, Trent’s betrayal... it all circled back to my choices and my entanglents. And I wouldn’t have forgiven myself if sothing had happened to them.
I finally made myself a cup of coffee to cool down as I waited patiently for them to arrive.
Sooner than expected, I heard a roar of engines outside announcing the arrival of Mordred’s team.
I bolted to the window, peering through the blinds. Black vans pulled up, Mordred’s bike leading like a dark knight.
His team spilled out—shadowy figures in tactical gear, efficient and silent. Lysander’s head popped up behind as we glanced through them together.
I narrowed my eyes almost in question, Where’s Lesley? I an almost all the guys are out and there’s no sign of her.
Just before I could yell it out, I saw her. She was supported by a big guy with tattoos, her face looked pale but alive.
Ahh finally, I yanked the door open before they could knock. "Lesley!"
She looked up, eyes widening, and broke free from the guy’s arm, stumbling into mine.
I hugged her fiercely, her body shaking like a leaf in a storm. "Oh God, Kianna... I thought... I thought that was it." Her voice cracked, tears soaking my shirt.
I held her tighter, guilt crashing over like a wave. This was my fault—my drama spilling onto her.
"I’m so sorry," I whispered, stroking her hair. "You’re safe now. It’s over."
Then the viper guy Jax, I think Mordred called him—nodded at . "She’s okay. A bit roughed up, but no major damage."
He helped us inside, Lesley collapsed onto the couch with a blanket I fetched from the hall with a deep sigh.
Mordred dismounted his bike last, his silhouette cutting through the night like he owned it.
He strode up, jacket torn, face pale and his knuckles looked raw, but that gravelly confidence of his was intact.
Our eyes t, and sothing electric passed between us—the kind that made my breath catch despite everything.The fear from the call, the doubt from the photos... it all faded in that mont. He was here,alive. And that’s all that matters.
Without thinking, I stepped forward and hugged him too—surprising even myself. His arms wrapped around , strong and warm, pulling close like I was the only thing grounding him.
The scent of leather and sweat clung to him, mixed with sothing sharper, blood? I pulled back just enough to look up, my hands on his chest.
"I thought I’d lost you," I whispered, the words tumbling out raw and unfiltered.
Before he could respond, I kissed him—deep and desperately, like the world might end if I stopped.
He kissed back, one hand cupping my face, the other at my waist, drawing in. It was ssy, fueled by adrenaline and relief, but it felt right, like we’d crossed so invisible line where fear turned to fire.
The doubt lingered in the back of my mind—those photos, his violence and how possessive he could be. But right now, all I cared about was that he was here, solid and real.
Before we could completely lose ourselves in our emotions, a throat cleared behind us.
I broke away, cheeks flushing as I glanced over my shoulder to see who was there.
It was Lysander, he stood by the couch, arms crossed with his eyes fixed on the floor like it held the secrets of the universe.
But I caught it—the tightness in his jaw and the way his good hand clenched. It was definitely a sign of jealousy.
It hit like a quiet storm; Lysander, my steady friend, the one who’d taken a bullet for , watching this.
It got worse as I stepped back from Mordred, the kiss hanging in the air like an unspoken apology I didn’t owe.
"We should go," Lysander said, voice even but edged. "Lesley’s been through enough. The dorm’s probably safer now that... this is handled." He nodded at Mordred without eting his eyes, the tension crackling.
Mordred’s arm stayed around my waist, possessively. "She’s welco to stay here. Safer than the dorm anyway, Maddox, Trent and Kylie are still out there."
Lesley looked up from the couch, exhausted but alert. "I... I just want to go ho, Kianna. With you."
I nodded, squeezing Mordred’s hand before stepping away. "Okay, we’ll go."
But as I helped Lesley up, the pull between them—Mordred’s intensity and Lysander’s quiet hurt tugged at . This wasn’t just about survival anymore, It was about choices. And mine were getting harder.
Outside, as Lysander helped Lesley into his car, Mordred pulled aside. "Be careful, this isn’t over."
"I know," I said, glancing back at Lysander, who waited with forced patience. "But neither are we."
Then he leaned in and kissed my forehead, a promise in the touch, and watched us drive away.
In the rearview, his figure shrank, but the weight of his world clung to . Lysander drove in silence, the jealousy unspoken but heavy.
And as the city lights blurred past, I wondered how long I could balance between them before sothing broke.
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