"Ohhh, I feel so awful," I groaned, clutching my stomach like it might keep my insides from spilling out. My head throbbed, and the sunlight piercing through the windshield felt like a personal attack.
"I told you to drink my special drink, but you didn't want to," Slavvy pointed out for what felt like the thousandth time, his tone laced with amusement.
"I'm never drinking again," I muttered, closing my eyes and leaning back against the seat.
"That's what they all say," he murmured under his breath, a small grin tugging at his lips.
"Huh?" I asked, peeking at him through half-open eyes.
"Nothing," he replied smoothly, still smirking as he pulled over to the side of the road. "Stay here. I'll be back in two minutes."
Like I was in any state to go anywhere. He got out, and my eyes followed him the way he moved, calm yet commanding, like he owned the very ground he walked on. The sun hit the edges of his broad shoulders, his black shirt molding perfectly against his build. There was something effortlessly dangerous about him the kind of danger that didn't shout, but whispered.
I leaned back, scrolling through his phone, taking a few silly selfies just to distract myself until I noticed something.
A few black SUVs rolled quietly into the parking lot. Sleek, tinted, and menacing. My heart gave a painful jolt as six men stepped out of each one, dressed in black from head to toe. No hesitation. No wasted movement.
Mafia.
Every inch of my body froze. Their presence alone felt heavy like the air itself was afraid of them. My heart hammered as I ducked lower in the seat, clutching Slavvy's phone to my chest.
Then gunshots.
The sharp, echoing cracks ripped through the silence, and my hangover vanished in an instant. Panic seized me, memories slamming into my head my uncles, the gunfire, the blood. My breaths came in short bursts.
No, no, not anxiety. Not now.
My trembling eyes darted toward the store and then I saw him.
Slavvy.
He wasn't the same man who teased me over a hangover. He was cold. Focused. A storm in motion. His movements were precise, brutal, beautiful in a terrifying way. Within seconds, two men were down, his expression unreadable.
When he reached the car, I was shaking so badly I couldn't speak.
"You're safe," he said breathlessly, sliding behind the wheel and flooring the accelerator. His voice was steady, like he'd done this a thousand times before.
"Call Haze," he commanded.
"Calling Haze," the car's system replied.
The line clicked, and a frantic voice came through. "What's going on? Where are you?" Haze barked.
"I'm being followed by the Venoms. Track my car now," Slavvy said, his tone calm — too calm.
"Right on it," Haze answered immediately.
I tried to steady my breathing, but it only got worse. The air felt too thin, my chest too tight. "Slavvy," I whispered, panic flooding my voice.
He glanced at me, concern flickering through his eyes. "I can't breathe," I gasped, clutching my chest.
"Slavvy, Ace and Zack are taking care of it. You're safe now," Haze said, trying to sound reassuring, though his voice trembled slightly.
Slavvy slowed the car, pulling off onto an empty road lined with tall palm trees that swayed gently in the breeze. My vision blurred with tears. I hated this. The anxiety, the chaos, the fear.
He stopped the car and turned to me really looked at me. His expression softened, and the cold edge he carried melted for just a moment.
"Testimony," he said quietly, his voice deep and steady, "breathe."
I tried. I really tried. But the images wouldn't leave my mind the blood, the gunshots, the way he moved like he'd been born for violence.
Tears rolled down my cheeks, and my voice broke. "I'm scared."
He reached out, lifting my chin gently. His eyes once filled with danger l now held something else. Guilt. Warmth. Something unspoken that hit deeper than any words could.
"You're safe now," he whispered, his thumb brushing away a tear. "Nothing will happen to you while I'm here. I promise."
And I believed him. Against all reason, against every warning in my head I believed him.
I buried my face against his chest, trembling, as his arms wrapped around me. His scent smoke, spice, something faintly metallic
grounded me.
"I thought you… you were gone," I whispered.
He pulled me closer. "I'm here. I'm okay. You hear me? I'm right here," he murmured into my hair.
The steady rhythm of his heart calmed mine. Slowly, the fear ebbed away.
When he finally leaned back, I saw that same faint grin tug at his lips again the dangerous, infuriating one. "Hey," he said softly, holding up a small takeout box. "I got you your hot wings."
Through my tears, I laughed. "You're serious?"
"Of course," he said, pretending to look offended.
I sat up, wiping my face and giggling. "Well, I guess my hangover's gone."
He smirked. "Good. I didn't drive all this way for nothing."
I bit into one, and my eyes immediately watered. "Oh my gosh, that's hot!" I fanned my mouth. "Why didn't you warn me?"
He laughed — a low, rich sound that filled the car. "Honey, it's not that bad."
My heart stuttered. "What did you just call me?" I teased, narrowing my eyes.
He gave me that smug, innocent look. "What?"
"Nothing," I muttered, but I couldn't hide the smile spreading across my face.
For a while, we just sat there quiet, close, caught between chaos and calm. His hand brushed against mine on the console, and neither of us moved it away.