The alley was silent now.
But Aira's pulse wasn't.
Akil stood only inches away, chest rising and falling — breath still heavy from running. The night felt colder, but he radiated warmth like a shield around her.
Aira watched him.
Really watched him.
The way his jaw clenched like he was furious at himself for letting danger near her.
The way his hands shook even though he was trying so hard to look strong.
The way he looked at her… like her life mattered more than his own.
And for the first time, Aira wondered if her heart was racing because of the intruders…
…or because of him.
His eyes met hers — intense, protective, unreadable.
She had to look away before she forgot how to breathe.
"We should get out of the open," Akil said, voice low, steady.
"Oh. Right."
Her voice sounded smaller than she expected.
As they walked, her fingers brushed his by accident.
A spark shot up her arm — sharp, electrifying.
She snatched her hand back instantly — cheeks heating.
Akil didn't comment…
but she saw the tiny smirk he tried to hide.
Arrogant.
Annoying.
…God, why did that make him even more attractive?
---
Safe house
Akil led her into a dim, abandoned garage his friend used to hide bikes. Dust clung to everything, but it was better than being in sight.
Aira paced, trying to calm her trembling body.
Akil leaned against a wall, eyes never leaving her.
He wasn't checking the exits anymore.
He was checking her.
"You're still shaking," he said softly.
"No, I'm not."
She crossed her arms — her voice betrayed her anyway.
Akil stepped closer.
Just one step… and she felt it everywhere.
"I know what fear looks like," he murmured.
She looked up — her eyes locking with his.
"And what does it look like?" she challenged.
"Like you're trying to pretend you don't need someone to hold onto."
Her heart stumbled.
"What if I do?"
The words slipped out before she could stop them.
Akil's expression changed — like he didn't expect her to say that.
His breath hitched.
He lifted a hand, slowly… giving her every chance to pull away.
His fingertips brushed her cheek.
Aira's skin felt like it caught fire.
Her hand rose on its own — gripping his wrist gently, not to push him away…
but to keep him there.
A flicker of confusion flashed in his eyes.
He wasn't supposed to want this.
He wasn't supposed to care this much.
But then—
Aira leaned in — just a little — barely a whisper of closeness
Her voice trembled:
"I don't know why I feel safer with you…
when I'm not supposed to trust you at all."
Akil swallowed hard.
"I'm not supposed to care about you either."
Their breaths tangled.
Neither stepped back.
For one suspended second, the world was silent…
their fear turned into something dangerously tender.
Then—
A loud vibration shattered the moment — Aira's phone.
She jerked away quickly, heart in her throat.
Akil exhaled sharply, like he needed to get air back into his lungs.
"What… what does it say?" he managed.
Aira checked the screen…
Her face went pale.
"It's from an unknown number."
A single message:
> If you keep digging — your brother's next.
Aira's blood froze.
Akil took the phone from her hand, reading the text — jaw turning stone-hard.
"They're not just watching you anymore," he said.
"They're warning you."
Aira stared at the screen, then at Akil.
Her fear turned into something fierce.
Something braver than she'd ever felt.
"We're not stopping," she said.
"They can threaten me. But not my family."
Akil nodded.
"Then tomorrow… we burn LeGaled to the ground."
Aira looked up at him again — fire in her eyes this time.
Every emotion — fear, rage, trust — pulled her toward him like gravity.
She didn't step closer.
But she wanted to.
And Akil saw that want.
He didn't move either.
But God, he wanted to.
The line between them had never been thinner.
The night wasn't over.
And neither were they.