I suppose I should be trying to figure out who is behind the attacks on me, but honestly, we are just waiting for their next move anyway, so instead, I slide into the car next to Yuki.
“It is ready for pickup, sir,” he tells me, and I grin.
“Very good. Have we heard from Phoenix?” I ask.
“Yes, sir. He made contact early this morning. He has their names and is on the way to get them.” He looks at me. “They must have annoyed you a lot to send Phoenix after them.”
“That they did.” I nod, not going into why, but he smiles like he knows.
“How is Nikko? I see he stayed with you and your father,” Yuki remarks, giving me a sly look. My eyes narrow, and his grin only grows. “It’s nice to see you happy, sir. It really is.”
I stare out of the window, but I can’t contain my smile. “I like having him with me. I tried to keep him away, but it didn’t work.”
“I have a feeling you couldn’t keep him away if you tried. Besides, sir, it isn’t your choice. You can’t stop someone who wants to be in your life, not even to keep them safe. The best we can do is protect them with everything we have and hope it’s enough,” Yuki replies.
“And what if it isn’t?” I ask worriedly. “What if he gets hurt because of me?”
“Then you will probably be sad.” He reaches over, covering my hand for a second.
“I don’t want him to throw his life away because he loves me,” I confess.
“It’s his life to throw away,” he responds. “Besides, I think he would argue differently. Nikko is a big boy. He’s a boxer, sir. He cantake care of himself. He knows how to roll with the punches. Give him a chance. He might surprise you.”
“He is uncharacteristically stubborn. I think even if I tried to push him away again, he would find his way back to me somehow. I figured keeping him might make it safer. That’s all,” I explain.
“Sir, keep him all you want. He’s good for you.” My frown must betray my confusion because he grins. “He makes you shine again. You’re happy and more confident. It’s like you’re finally breathing again, and anyone who can make you feel that way is good in my books, sir.”
I bite down on my smile as my phone rings. Pulling it out, I answer the video call from Phoenix.
There’s a man with him. His eyes bulge as he screams, the sound muffled by the electrical tape covering his mouth. There’s a trail of blood down his forehead, and his arms are clearly bound behind his back. He’s somewhere dark with just a flashlight on his face as he shouts and writhes, and then the camera turns so I can see Phoenix’s stoic face. “It has begun, sir. I will keep you updated.”
“Very good. Make sure you do.” Hanging up, I know my smile is vicious and cruel, and Yuki just sighs.
“God help the world when a Xander is in love.”
THIRTY-SIX
Iplay chess with Zia’s father for a few hours before he has to rest, then I wander the house while I wait for Zia to come home. I don’t know where he went, but I already miss him. Zia and his father both said I had free rein, but I still feel like I’m invading their privacy. Everywhere I look, there are paintings and pictures of Zia and his father. They look happy. It’s evident his father loves him very much, and I memorize each and every one. In some, he looks young but still so serious. I wonder if he ever truly got to be a child.
When I find a room that’s obviously an office, I hesitate. There are no locked doors thanks to Zia, but should I go in? No one is around, so I step inside and carefully shut the door, glancing around as I do. It’s a plush space, made for comfort and long hours at work, with the same old-world decor as the rest of the house. Warm, dark-wood bookshelves are filled with books and knickknacks. Deep inlaid sofas are on the left with a coffee table before them covered in open papers and books, and a desk at the back faces a computer, but it’s one of the open books on the table that catches my eye.
It’s a picture album.
Heading over, I sit softly on the edge of the leather sofa, hearing it creak as I do. I pick the top book up and see Zia. They are all of Ziawhen he was young, maybe six or seven if I had to guess. He has the same eyes and wicked smile. His face is chubbier and his hair is different, but the main difference is the way his eyes sparkle with happiness.
There are so many of them—him with a kite and playing in the garden. In every single one, he has this spark, one I haven’t really seen in him. Innocence, maybe, or just childish joy? As I flip through the book and he gets older, that spark seems to die, and he must only be ten before he looks stern and put together.
As I go to put the book down and grab the next, something flutters out. I pick it up, turning it over to see a picture. It’s of Zia’s dad, and there’s a baby in his arms and a woman at his side. Is this Zia as a baby? He was so little, and he has the same eyes as the woman. His mother? He never mentions her, but his father did a bit.
She died. Is that when Zia changed, or was it before? Was it the pressure of being a Xander? I don’t know, but I hope I can relieve some of that for Zia. I want that spark back. I want to see him smile so freely again.
Putting the picture back, I exit the office and shut the door, leaving his dad to his memories, when a loud beeping noise splits the air. None of the guards rush in or seem worried, but I wander to the front door and open it. Peeking out, I see a truck backed in, the tailgate lowered. Zia watches with his arms crossed, his sunglasses in place.
“Zia?” I call, and he turns with a smile.
“There you are. Good timing. Come here.” He holds out his hand, and I wander over. I’m like a moth to a flame when it comes to him. Capturing my fingers, he draws me closer to his side and lets me see what all the noise is about as he pushes his sunglasses up. “Surprise. This is for you.”
“What is—” My eyes land on the sparkling black ARCH KRGT-1, one I have looked at a million times and dreamed of, promising myself I’d buy it one day with my winnings. The bike shines in the sun, and I turn to Zia, unsure what he means when he hands me a set of keys. “Zia, what is this?”
