PLAYING HOUSE

KIERAN

The bathroom door clicked shut behind her, and for a second, all I could hear was the dripping of water onto tile.

Silence.

Thick.

Unforgiving.

Almost unfamiliar.

I sat there, steam curling around my skin, t-shirt still draped low across my hips, staring down at the water pooled near my feet. Her scent still lingered on my skin mixed with shampoo, soap, a hint of her fingers that touched too gently for someone who tried to kill me with breakfast.

She touched me like she wasn't afraid.

Like I wasn't a monster.

And fuck… I liked it.

Too much.

It had been a long time since anyone had touched me without a blade, without expectation. Even Rocco, for all his familiarity, had clinical hands. Detached. Efficient.

But Kina?

She lingered.

Maybe she didn't mean to. Maybe it was just her weird brand of awkward humanity. But it felt too careful. Too present. And it stuck to me.

Made something twist inside my gut.

I should've stopped her the moment she offered. Should've barked at her to mind her business, that I was fine, that I didn't need help. That I didn't want to be touched.

But I did.

I fucking did.

And that was dangerous.

I snapped myself out of it, standing slowly and drying off the last of the water before changing into the clothes Rocco left, black joggers, an oversized tee that clung to my still-healing side, and a faint scent of whatever cologne Rocco used. Something expensive and sharp.

I stepped out.

The apartment was dim and warm, a shaft of sunlight streaming in through the faded curtain in the living room, and there she was.

Kina.

Sitting with knees folded on the couch, phone pressed to her ear, talking in that soft, sweet tone that sounded nothing like the goblin who dumped a pan in the sink like it had personally betrayed her this morning.

She smiled. Played with the hem of her shirt. Laughed at something.

That voice was for someone else.

Someone who knew how to pull that out of her.

Someone who—

I tilted my head.

Was she serious about that boyfriend thing?

Because no offense, but if she did have a man, what kind of loser lets his girlfriend live in this barely-holding-together cardboard box with busted wallpaper, expired cereal, and zero actual locks?

Unless…

Unless it was just some workplace crush. The kind of relationship that wasn't real-real. The kind that dies under real pressure. Or, more likely, the kind that couldn't hold a candle to what we were slowly turning into... chaotic, sharp-edged fire.

Still. I was curious.

I padded over silently, barefoot, not making a sound, and leaned close to her, just enough to see the tiny hairs on her nape twitch from awareness.

"Hey," I whispered, my voice low and right in her ear. "You got a hairdryer?"

She jumped like she got struck by lightning.

Let out a squeak and turned, eyes wide, glaring like I'd just declared war.

I smirked, slow and sharp.

The glare deepened. Her voice changed immediately, all flustered and awkward. "Haha—uh—yeah! No, I'm okay, I just saw… something move. A shadow. Probably the air. Y'know, apartment weirdness."

Still on the phone.

Probably with him.

Her hand covered the mic, and she hissed like a pissed cat, "Don't sneak up on me like that!"

I shrugged innocently and watched her flee into her room with the same chaotic energy of a squirrel under siege.

She's so easy.

Once the door clicked behind her, I grabbed my burner from under the coffee table and dialed.

Rocco picked up after one ring.

"Kieran. You alive?"

"Still standing," I replied, lounging on the couch she abandoned. "Give me the bad news."

Rocco didn't waste time. "Scorpion's men hit three blocks in District 11 last night. Two stash houses got raided. Our boys barely slipped out in time."

My jaw clenched. "Was anyone taken?"

"One. Hugo. The kid with the crooked jaw? They took him from the stairwell. No updates yet, but if they're doing recon grabs, they're fishing. They don't know shit."

That tracked. If they knew, this place would already be burning.

"What about movement outside the city?"

"Not yet, but the pressure's cooking. He's courting the old syndicate families. Promising a return to 'tradition.'"

I rolled my eyes. "Always tradition when you don't got strategy."

"Doesn't matter. The money's bleeding. A few more weeks of slow ops and the smaller branches'll fold under pressure. That's when they'll switch sides."

I leaned back into the couch, mind already ten steps ahead. "And the big fish? The dragons?"

"Waiting. Watching. Some people do think you lost your edge. Others think you're playing long ball." Rocco's voice dropped lower. "They don't know what kind of king you're going to be if you come back."

I smirked, but it didn't quite reach my eyes. "Let 'em keep guessing. The moment they think they've figured me out is the moment I slit throats."

"You don't have forever, Kieran."

"I don't need forever."

Silence settled on the line like ash.

Then Rocco spoke again. "Where you're holed up… it's clean. I had the satellite boys scan the block—no electronic noise, no signal sweeps. You're invisible for now. But once Scorpion stops looking loud and starts looking smart, he'll start cross-referencing old logistics, long-forgotten safe zones, anyone with a medical background off-grid. That trail leads to me. Then to you."

"I'll burn that bridge when I have to."

"And Kina? How is she?"

I didn't answer right away.

"She's not part of this and she's constantly in edge and I'm the stray here." I said finally.

"Well she is cautious. She doesn't know what she's keeping in her little box."

I scrubbed a hand down my face.

"I know."

Then, with no warning, my voice shifted—quieter. Colder.

"If he touches her—if he so much as breathes near this place—Scorpion's body won't be found. You understand me?"

Rocco didn't respond for a beat. Then: "Crystal."

I exhaled. "Tell Tank to keep our cash flow moving. Make it look like we're fractured but surviving. Send noise south so they keep looking in the wrong direction. And track every goddamn whisper of Scorpion's alliances. Keep tabs on every fucking territory he tries to piss on. The moment he touches anything that's mine, I'll feed his tongue to my dogs and use his spine as a souvenir."

"What about you?"

I grinned without warmth. "Me? I'll be right here… playing house."

"Try not to get attached."

"Calm your balls, she's just a little pet."

The door creaked open.

I hung up.

Kina stepped out holding a dainty pastel-pink hairdryer and a frown like she wanted to smack me with it. And frankly I wouldn't mind at this point.

I smiled lazily. "Aw. You do care."

She narrowed her eyes and tossed it onto the couch beside me like it had personally offended her.

"I do not. I just want my bathroom back."

I watched her turn to leave, and before she could escape again, I called after her.

"You saw a shadow, huh?"

She flipped me off without turning.

God, I was starting to really like her.