“Stay still,” he says.
It’s not a command raised in volume; it’s one that assumes obedience.
I don’t move.
His thumb brushes just beneath the blood, eyes tracking every reaction on my face. The world seems to narrow to the space between us, the echo of the engine cooling behind him, the night holding its breath.
“No one touches you,” he murmurs, voice low, dangerous in its certainty. “No one but me”
I look up at him, heart pounding, words caught somewhere between fear and something far worse.
His gaze meets mine, steady and unyielding, as if this outcome was inevitable from the moment we collided into each other’s lives.
“I’m taking you home” he says, with no room for argument.
Before I can protest, he’s already moving, guiding me toward the bike with a hand at my lower back, firm and sure. Not pushing. Not dragging. Just directing, like resistance has already been accounted for and dismissed.
“Khai, wait,” I say, breath unsteady. “My car.”
He doesn’t stop walking.
“It won’t be left there.”
I pull back slightly, forcing him to turn. “You say that, but you’re not telling mehow.”
His eyes flick to my hand again, then back to my face. A pause. Measured. Deliberate.
“You don’t need the details,” he says. “You need to know it’ll be where you expect it. By morning.”
“That’s not reassuring.”
A corner of his mouth lifts. Not a smile. Something darker. “It should be.”
That does something unsettling to my pulse.
Khai reaches up and pulls his helmet off, the motion unhurried. He studies it for half a second before pressing it into my hands.
“Put it on.”
I blink. “What about you?”
“I’ll manage.”
“That doesn’t sound safe.”
A beat passes. Then his eyes lift to mine, dark and unwavering. “You’re wearing it.”
It’s not a debate.
He turns away before I can argue, swings onto the bike, and settles in like it belongs to him, like the machine is an extension of his body. He plants his boots on the ground and looks back at me over his shoulder.
“Get on.”
The word lands heavy.
I hesitate, helmet clutched to my chest, suddenly too aware of the night pressing in around us. “Khai.”
He turns fully this time. Slowly. Deliberately. His gaze drops to my injured hand, then drags back up my body, unflinching.
