Shadows and Scars

The night stretched endlessly as the city lights cast faint shadows across the penthouse. She shifted restlessly on the couch, her thoughts plagued by worry. Every sound outside the door made her heart race, but each time, it was only the silence that greeted her again.

Her mind wandered to his parting words. "Nothing will happen to me. I'll be back before you know it." Despite his confidence, she couldn't shake the unease curling in her chest. She hated feeling this powerless, trapped in luxury while he faced the unknown.

Finally, unable to bear the stillness, she rose and wandered into the kitchen. She poured herself a glass of water, but her hands trembled so much that the glass slipped, shattering on the floor. She winced, startled by the noise.

Before she could move, the door swung open, and two guards rushed in, their weapons drawn. "Are you hurt, ma'am?" one of them asked, scanning the room for danger.

"No, I'm fine," she said quickly, her voice shaky. She gestured toward the broken glass. "It was just an accident."

The guards relaxed slightly but exchanged glances. "Please be careful," one of them said. "Mr. Ryu would—"

"Would what?" she snapped, frustration boiling over. "Lock me in tighter? Send more guards to suffocate me?"

The guard looked taken aback but remained silent. She sighed, rubbing her temples. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. Just…please leave."

After a moment of hesitation, they nodded and stepped out, closing the door behind them. She sank to the floor, her head in her hands. Why does it feel like I'm falling apart?

The stench of desperation clung to the narrow streets of Kuragari as Ryu Aksh moved through the shadows. The man with the cross tattoo had been forthcoming—surprisingly so. He'd directed Aksh to Vortex, the seediest club in the area, claiming Lucian would be his lead to Black Shadow. But there was something in the man's smirk, something off about how easily he'd given up the information.

Aksh had weighed the possibility of a trap. It wouldn't be the first time someone tried to outmaneuver him. But he had no choice. He was already too deep.

The Vortex loomed ahead, neon lights flickering against the hazy night sky. The thumping bass of the music was muted, the club's chaos well-contained within its grimy walls. Aksh adjusted his jacket to conceal his weapon, his sharp eyes scanning the exterior for signs of trouble.

As he stepped inside, the smoky air hit him like a wall. The club was a labyrinth of shadows and deceit, filled with a mix of intoxicated patrons and menacing figures who knew exactly how to blend into the background. Aksh made his way to the bar, his movements precise and deliberate.

The bartender didn't even glance up when he approached. "What'll it be?"

"I'm looking for Lucian," Aksh said, sliding a bill across the counter.

The bartender hesitated, his hand hovering over the money. "Lucian doesn't meet with strangers."

"Tell him it's about Black Shadow," Aksh said, his voice cold enough to send a shiver through the man.

The bartender's eyes flickered with recognition, and he nodded reluctantly. "Wait here."

Aksh leaned against the counter, his gaze fixed on the door behind the bar as the bartender disappeared. He felt eyes on him, the kind of stares that lingered too long. His instincts screamed at him to leave, but he stayed rooted.

Minutes later, the bartender returned, his expression neutral. "Lucian's in the back. Follow me."

Aksh's steps were careful as he was led through a dim hallway lined with peeling wallpaper and flickering lights. His senses were on high alert, his hand brushing against the concealed holster under his jacket.

The door at the end of the hallway creaked open, revealing a small room. Lucian sat on a plush chair, his sharp eyes scanning Aksh as he entered.

"Lucian," Aksh said, his tone measured.

Lucian smirked, gesturing for him to sit. "The man who walks into Vortex asking about Black Shadow. Bold. What do you want?"

"I need information," Aksh replied, his voice steady. "I was told you're the one to talk to."

Lucian leaned back, his gaze calculating. "And why do you think I'll tell you about him?."

"I'm not here to Play Games," Aksh said, taking a step closer. "You either tell me, or we both lose time we don't have."

Lucian raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "You're confident. I like that. But—"

The sharp crack of a gunshot cut through the air.

Aksh barely registered the sound before pain exploded in his shoulder. He staggered, clutching the wound as blood seeped through his jacket. Chaos erupted around him, shouts and panicked movements filling the air.

Lucian bolted from his seat, slipping out through a hidden door before Aksh could react.

"Damn it," Aksh hissed, pressing his hand against his shoulder as he scanned the room.

Another shot rang out, missing him by inches as he ducked behind an overturned table. The room was a blur of movement, but Aksh's focus was razor-sharp. He fired back, taking down one of the attackers.

The hidden door Lucian had disappeared through was ajar, but the path to it was blocked by two armed men. Aksh gritted his teeth, his vision blurring slightly from the blood loss. He couldn't afford to lose Lucian—not now.

With a burst of adrenaline, Aksh moved swiftly, taking down the guards with calculated precision. By the time he reached the door, Lucian was gone.

Aksh cursed under his breath, leaning against the wall for support. His shoulder throbbed, the pain a constant reminder of how close he'd come to failure.

Stumbling out into the alley behind the club, he scanned the empty streets. Lucian had vanished into the night, taking the answers Aksh so desperately needed with him.

Clutching his shoulder, Aksh made his way to his car. The mission wasn't over—far from it. Lucian had escaped, but he would find him. And when he did, there would be no more running.

As he drove back toward the penthouse, his mind replayed the night's events. He'd underestimated the danger, and it had nearly cost him. But one thought burned brighter than the pain in his shoulder.

She was waiting for him. And no matter what it took, he would return to her.

The elevator doors slid open with a quiet ding, and Ryu stepped into the penthouse, his body rigid despite the pain radiating from his shoulder. He had wrapped the wound tightly with a makeshift bandage in the car, his dark jacket doing the rest to conceal the blood. His face was stoic, betraying nothing of the struggle he had endured.

As the door clicked shut behind him, he noticed her sitting by the window, her silhouette bathed in the soft glow of city lights. Her head turned sharply at the sound, her wide eyes filling with relief the moment she saw him.

"You're back," she said, her voice a mixture of disbelief and concern. She stood, her movements hesitant as she took in his disheveled appearance. "Are you okay? You look—"

"I'm fine," he interrupted quickly, forcing a small smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. He avoided her gaze, knowing she would see right through him if he lingered too long. "It was nothing. Just…a long night."

But she wasn't convinced. Her eyes narrowed slightly, scanning him with an intensity that made his pulse quicken. "What happened? You look like—" She stopped mid-sentence, her gaze landing on the faint crimson stain seeping through his jacket.

Her breath hitched. "You're hurt."

"It's nothing," he said, his tone firmer this time. He took a step back as she moved closer, her concern evident in the way her hands hovered near him, unsure whether to touch.

"You're bleeding!" she exclaimed, her voice rising as panic seeped into her tone. "What happened? Did someone—"

"Calm down," he said gently, his voice softening. "It's just a scratch. I've had worse."

Her breathing quickened, her hands trembling as she reached for his arm. "You're lying. This isn't just a scratch—"

"Stop," he said, grabbing her wrist lightly but firmly. His voice was calm, but the steel in his tone was unmistakable. "I don't want you to worry. It's under control."

Her lips trembled as she stared at him, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. "How can I not worry? You're hurt, and you're acting like it doesn't matter. You—"

"It matters," he cut in, his voice low and steady. "But what matters more is that you're safe. That's the only thing I care about right now."

She shook her head, her panic bubbling over. "This isn't just about me! You keep putting yourself in danger, and I don't understand why. Why do you—"

"Because I have to," he said, his voice breaking just slightly before he composed himself. "This world I'm in—it's not safe. But I can handle it. I don't want you to be dragged into it, and that's why I need you to trust me when I say I'm fine."

Her hands fell to her sides, her expression crumpling as she took a step back. "You're hiding something," she whispered, her voice trembling. "You don't want me to know, do you?"

He hesitated, the weight of her words settling over him. "I don't want you to relive your own fears," he admitted finally. "I saw the way you panicked when you were kidnapped. I don't want to be the reason you feel like that again."

Her chest heaved as she processed his words, the tension in the room thick and suffocating. After a moment, she exhaled shakily and nodded, though her eyes still glimmered with worry. "At least let me help you," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

"You don't have to," he started, but the look she gave him silenced his protests.

"Please," she said, her gaze steady despite the tears threatening to fall. "Let me do something."

He sighed, the fight draining out of him. "Alright," he said, his voice quieter now. "But only if it'll make you feel better."

She hurried to the bathroom, returning moments later with a first aid kit. Her hands were steady as she worked, cleaning the wound and rewrapping it with fresh bandages. She didn't speak, but her focus and care spoke volumes.

When she finished, she sat back and met his gaze. "You don't have to protect me by hiding things," she said softly. "I'm stronger than you think."

His chest tightened at her words, a mixture of guilt and admiration flooding through him. "I know," he said, his voice barely audible. "But some things…I'll never forgive myself for if they touch you."

For the first time that night, her lips curved into a faint smile. "Then stop scaring me like this," she said, her tone lighter but still tinged with worry.

He chuckled softly, the sound brief but genuine. "I'll try."

As she stood to put the first aid kit away, he watched her with a quiet sense of relief. She was safe, and that was all that mattered. For now.