Liam
The morning sun filtered through the tall windows of Harley's Manhattan apartment, casting a warm glow on the minimalist decor. The city outside was already bustling, but inside, a heavy silence lingered. Harley sat at her kitchen island, her fingers wrapped around a chilled glass of her favorite iced blonde vanilla latte with oat milk and a hint of cinnamon.
Harley's days had become a blur of meetings, emails, and endless work. She buried herself in her career, using it as a shield against the loneliness that crept in during the quiet moments. Steve, her boyfriend, had grown distant, his absence more pronounced with each passing day. The texts had dwindled, the calls became infrequent, and the warmth that once defined their relationship had faded.
I noticed the change. I saw the way her shoulders tensed when she checked her phone, only to find no new messages. I observed the forced smiles and the way she threw herself into work with a fervor that bordered on desperation. Yet, I said nothing, offering silent support through my unwavering presence.
I stepped out of her building to give her a bit of space and went for a short walk to get sandwiches , and something pulled at me. I didn't take the usual route back. Something told me to take the long way. I did
That's when I saw him.
Steve. Standing on the sidewalk a few blocks down. Laughing. Arm around a woman in a red dress, her curves pressed against him like they were molded together. His hand was low on her waist, fingers tapping against her hip like he owned her. They kissed. Then he leaned down, whispered in her ear.
I stood there, frozen.
He looked up. Saw me. For a split second, we just stared at each other. And then I smiled. Just a little.
I turned, walked away, and went back to Harley's apartment. She hasn't eaten anything all day, I thought on what I should give her I ended up giving her a sandwich, she was picky, she didn't notice it immediately. Her eyes were glued to her screen again, going through emails.
I walked onto the balcony and pulled out my phone.
"Get him," I told Evan. "Quiet. No public mess."
"Who?"
"Steve. Get rid of him. It's a way to make her vulnerable."
"You got it."
I waited. Gave them the location. And by late afternoon, I got the message:
He was at the warehouse.
I knew what I was doing the second I made the call. There was no hesitation. No internal debate. No "maybe this is going too far." Because some men… they need to be shown the edge they've been dancing around.
By the time I walked into that warehouse, Steve was already there—tied to a chair beneath a dull swinging light. His face was red, gag tight over his mouth, chest rising in panic like a man finally realizing he'd pissed off the wrong stranger.
He looked up when the door creaked open. And the fear in his eyes… it didn't feel good. It felt right.
I took slow steps. Unrushed. I wasn't here to yell. I wasn't here to lose control.
I was here to teach.
He thrashed a little when I stopped in front of him, muttering against the tape. I crouched down, eyes level, and peeled the gag off like I was opening something cheap and useless.
"What the hell is this? Who the hell are you?" he spat, lips chapped, voice full of fear he tried to disguise as outrage.
I didn't respond. Just studied him. He was smaller than me—not in size, but in presence. We could've been the same height, same build, but he felt small. Like all cowards do when they're finally cornered.
"You love her?" I asked, voice low.
His brows bunched. "What?"
I tilted my head. "Harley. Do you love her?"
He let out a short, mocking laugh. "She's too much. Always working, always micromanaging. Honestly? She's exhausting."
I smiled a little. Not because it was funny—but because now I was sure. There was no grey here. This was black and white.
He kept going like he thought he had the upper hand. "She doesn't know how to relax. Always on her laptop, never fully present. You try dating someone who acts more married to her inbox than to you."
"You don't deserve her," I said quietly, rising to my feet.
He narrowed his eyes. "Who the hell are you? Some jealous ex? What is this, a breakup kidnapping?"
I circled behind him slowly. My heart wasn't racing. My breathing was steady. I was just… done. Done with people like him thinking they could chew someone like her up and spit her out without consequence.
"No," I said. "I'm the man who noticed her when you stopped. Who watched her shrink a little every time you didn't show up. Who brought her coffee when she looked like she hadn't eaten. Who held her gaze when she thought no one saw her anymore. You are worthless now and you don't deserve her"
Then I hit him. Once. Clean. Right in the gut. He doubled over, groaning.
Another to the ribs.
"Jesus Christ!" he gasped, coughing. "Are you fucking crazy?!"
I leaned in close. My voice calm, steady.
"No," I said. "I'm just loyal."
He looked at me like that was worse.
"You're gonna text her tonight," I told him. "You're gonna say sorry. You're gonna tell her you're not the right man for her. And you're gonna leave the city. Quietly. You so much as breathe near her again, I'll take your hands. You understand me?"
He coughed, blood on his lip now. "You're insane."
"Keep repeating that," I muttered, wiping my knuckles on a rag. "It might make it true."
Evan stepped in. "Want me to drop him somewhere?"
"Port Authority. The longest damn bus out of this city. No return ticket."
I stepped in close one last time, crouched to his level again. He was breathing hard now. Sweating.
"You didn't lose her to me," I said. "You lost her the second you forgot she deserved better. The moment you made her feel like she was too much."
He didn't say anything.
There was nothing left to say.
I turned and walked out. Didn't look back.
And later that night, lying in bed alone, I didn't feel guilt. I didn't feel powerful either. Just… settled.
Because when you care about someone, really care—you don't let the world eat them alive.
You bite back.
She deserves better.
Better than Steve.
Fuck even better than me.
I wasn't here for he but here for her damn father. Vengeance.