Fate Or Coincidence

The drink club on the ground floor of Allure pulsed with energy, bodies pressed together in a haze of sweat, alcohol, and loud music. Sycamore had lost herself in the rhythm, her hips swaying against Joan's as they danced. For the first time in a long time, she felt bold, almost fearless. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe the atmosphere, but for once, she wasn't thinking.

Meanwhile, on the upper floor of the club, Levi sat in the lifestyle section, his usual haunt for unwinding. But tonight, the usual pleasures of watching had lost their appeal. For the past two hours, he had barely glanced at the erotic displays before him. His mind was elsewhere. Specifically, on a certain curvy woman with sad brown eyes and too many secrets.

The weight of ignoring her calls and messages sat heavily on his chest. He told himself he was giving her space, but was he? Or was he running?

Lost in thought, he barely noticed Kale returning from his rounds until his friend clapped a firm hand on his shoulder.

"You're somewhere else, man," Kale noted, taking a seat next to him. "If you're not gonna join in the fun, at least pretend to enjoy watching."

Levi exhaled sharply.

Kale smirked. "You know, you could just call her."

Levi shot him a glare, but after a long sigh, he pulled out his phone. He dialed. No answer. He tried again. Still nothing.

A flicker of irritation crossed his face. Was she ignoring him? His stomach twisted at the thought.

"Give me your phone," he demanded, extending a hand to Kale.

Kale arched a brow but handed it over. Levi dialed again. No response. His irritation morphed into unease. Something wasn't right.

"I'm going to find her," he announced, standing abruptly.

Kale blinked. "And where exactly do you plan on looking?"

Levi was already grabbing his jacket. "The hospital. They have her address."

Kale let out a breath, running a hand through his hair. "Fine. Let's go."

Downstairs, in the drink club...

Joan leaned in, breath warm against her ear. "I'm getting more drinks. Be right back."

Sycamore barely nodded, too lost in the moment to care. But then, just as quickly as her confidence had come, it shattered.

A rough hand grabbed her from behind, turning her sharply. Before she could process what was happening, chapped lips smashed against hers, forceful, unyielding.

The taste of heavy liquor and stale cigarettes flooded her mouth.

Her body froze.

Thick, calloused hands groped her backside, fingers squeezing hard enough to bruise. A strong arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her flush against an unfamiliar body. She could feel him—all of him—pressed into her, hard with twisted excitement.

Her skin crawled.

She shoved at his chest, but he didn't budge. Instead, he gripped her jaw painfully, tilting her head back to force her mouth open again.

A guttural chuckle rumbled from his throat. "Come on, sweetheart, don't act shy now."

Sycamore gasped, but the sound barely made it past her lips before his hand shot up, wrapping around her throat.

The air in her lungs vanished.

Her vision blurred.

She clawed at his wrist, but he only tightened his grip, pinching the delicate skin between her thighs with his free hand. Pain shot through her, hot and sharp. Her eyes burned with tears.

She wanted to scream.

She couldn't.

The club spun around her, a blur of flashing lights and silhouettes. No one moved to help. To them, this was just another couple lost in a kinky game.

Tears spilled down her cheeks, her body trembling violently.

Someone, please...

Levi and Kale had just entered the drink club when Levi's gaze locked onto a familiar head of hair.

He barely recognized her at first—her makeup was heavier, her dress shorter—but the fear in her eyes was unmistakable. Then he saw the man. The way he was gripping her hair, the way she was struggling.

Levi's blood ran hot.

"That's her," he growled, his body already in motion.

Kale barely had time to react before Levi stormed across the room like a predator locking onto its prey.

And then—

A blur of motion.

A sickening crack.

The grip on her throat disappeared.

Sycamore collapsed, coughing, gasping, her chest burning as oxygen rushed back into her lungs.

Through blurry eyes, she saw him.

Levi.

His mismatched eyes burned with fury as he stood over her attacker, fists clenched, breathing ragged. The man groaned, blood gushing from his broken nose. But Levi wasn't done.

With a deadly snarl, he lunged. His fist connected with the man's face, then his ribs, then his stomach. Each hit more vicious than the last.

The club, once filled with music and laughter, was silent now. People had stepped back, watching in stunned silence.

Kale cursed under his breath. He had seen Levi lose control before, but this... this was different.

He then turned to check on Sycamore. She was shaking, her hands scratching at her own skin in a frantic, unconscious motion, Sycamore trembled, arms wrapping around herself as she rocked slightly. Her skin still burned where the man had touched her. She could still feel his hands, the pain between her thighs. The humiliation—something Kale had seen trauma victims do. She looked lost, broken, gasping for air. She scratched at her arms, at her legs, trying to erase the filth.

Kale moved toward her, but Levi was faster.

She flinched when his shadow loomed over her, her breath hitching as he crouched beside her.

"Please..." Her voice was barely a whisper. "Let me go."

His chest tightened painfully.

She was terrified.

Of him.

He swallowed the lump in his throat, forcing himself to move gently. Slowly, he placed a finger under her chin, tilting her face up to meet his gaze.

Recognition flickered in her tear-streaked eyes.

"You..." she gasped. "You're here?"

Something in Levi snapped.

"You're safe now," he murmured, voice thick with emotion.

Her lips trembled. "Take me away. Please."

Her legs buckled when she tried to stand. Before she could hit the ground, Levi caught her, effortlessly lifting her into his arms.

She wasn't just trembling—she was shaking, hiccuping through her sobs, her breath uneven.

Without thinking, she buried her face into his neck.

Levi's grip tightened.

Her legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, her arms clinging to him.

His jaw clenched as he turned to Kale. His voice was deadly calm. "Make sure he suffers."

Kale gave him a knowing nod. "Done."

Levi didn't look back.

As he carried Sycamore out of the club, her weight against him felt right. Her presence felt right.

Levi held her like she was the most fragile thing in the world, like if he let go for even a second, she'd vanish. His arms tightened around her, his mismatched eyes dark with emotions he didn't quite understand yet—or maybe he did, and just wasn't ready to face them.

Sycamore's sobs had softened, but she still clung to him, her fingers gripping his shirt as though it was the only thing keeping her from falling apart completely. Her breaths were uneven, hiccuping against his neck, warm and damp from her tears. Every tremor in her body sent a sharp ache through his chest, but he stayed silent. He couldn't ask her anything yet.

Not now.

Not when she was shaking in his arms like this.

His jaw clenched as he fought the storm brewing inside him—the rage, the guilt, the possessiveness clawing at his insides. He wanted to demand answers, to ask why she was even at Allure, why she had ignored his calls, why she had been left alone long enough for something like this to happen. But now wasn't the time.

For once in his life, he had to pull back.

He wanted to be protective. Hell, it was in his nature to be possessive, to claim what was his and make sure the whole damn world knew it. But if he acted on those instincts now, if he smothered her with control before she was ready, he'd lose her before he even had a chance.

So he held back.

For now.

He exhaled slowly, pressing his cheek against the top of her head, inhaling the scent of her—faint perfume mixed with something uniquely her. His fingers traced slow, soothing patterns on her back, hoping it would calm her, even just a little.

She wasn't just any woman.

She was his.

She just didn't know it yet.

And no one—no one—would ever touch her again.