Chapter 19- Just Bitter Water, Maybe Sweet

Chapter 19

POV: Lyra Vale

This time… I can't depend on anyone.

I remembered what Kieller had told me — cold, bitter, true:"Stop expecting people to save you. If you don't bleed for yourself, no one else will."

So I moved. Dizzy. Weak. But I moved.

He had vanished into the subway — the man in the white mask. I forced my legs forward, my vision crossing with each step, every heartbeat heavier than the last.

Then... Kieller appeared out of nowhere.

And he ran.

Faster than I thought possible. Past me. Toward the masked man.

By the time I reached the platform, the scene was chaos.

Kieller had tackled him.

And he wasn't just fighting — he was unleashing hell.

His fists landed like thunder, over and over. Blood coated his wrists — the masked man's blood. His knuckles were raw, soaked in it. His body shook, not from fear… but fury.

I stood frozen, barely breathing, as Kieller growled through clenched teeth:"You touch her again, and I'll break every f*cking bone in your body.""She's not your game, you filth — she's mine to destroy, not yours to harm."

Each punch carried more rage than the last, as if he were tearing apart every second of helplessness he'd ever felt for me.

People had started to gather, murmuring, filming — like it was some street-side entertainment. A bloody circus.

But I wasn't a part of the audience. I was the dying star.

My legs buckled. The blood loss was catching up.

Still, I whispered, "Kieller… stop…"

He didn't hear me. Or maybe he did — and ignored it.

"Stop, Kieller... for my sake... please… call the police…" My voice was broken. Torn.

That… that finally made him pause.

He looked at me, stunned, as if seeing me clearly for the first time. Then I collapsed.

The world spun.

Pain.

Darkness.

Silence.

Until… I felt arms around me. Warm. Tight. Protective.

Kieller.

He was running, holding me bridal-style, his breath uneven, voice shaking.

"Lyra, stay awake. Please, just hold on. Don't do this to me now," he whispered — or begged — I couldn't tell.

Tears. From him.

Why? Why was he crying?

"Why… why are you always there… when I'm hurt?" I managed to ask, each word slicing my throat.

"Don't speak, you idiotic black cat," he hissed — but it wasn't anger.

It was desperation.

His arrogance hadn't left. It was hiding — behind terror.

I tried to lift my hand to smack him. Failed.

Then the world turned dark again.

Hospital. Again.

Third visit in the same damn week.

The first thing I felt was pain. Radiating from my waist like fire. Even breathing hurt.

I tried to sit up—

"Don't even f*cking try," Kieller snapped from the corner of the room.

There he was. Arms crossed. Jaw tight. Eyes burning.

"What the hell were you thinking?""Running after a killer — while bleeding? What are you? Some heroine from a cheap drama?"

I wanted to snap back. I wanted to hurl a pillow at his pretty arrogant face. But my body betrayed me.

So I just glared and hissed, "Can you… please stop barking at me, you oversized Doberman?"

His brows shot up.

Then his expression dropped all sarcasm. "Are you okay? Wait — I'm calling the doctor."

He disappeared.

The doctor arrived moments later. He checked my vitals and adjusted my IV. "You're still weak. You shouldn't speak, sit, or stand. The stitches are fresh and could tear under pressure."

Lovely.

"Doctor… when can I be discharged?" I asked anyway, stubborn.

"Not soon. The wound is deep. You'll need time."

Great. Just perfect. What about my shoot tomorrow? And what happened to that masked psycho?

Kieller re-entered the room like a storm in Gucci.

"How are you feeling?" he asked — softer this time.

I gave him a thumbs-up. Barely.

He exhaled. "Good. Now the world can be at peace. You won't be running your motor mouth for a week."

Ah. There it is — Kieller Voss, CEO of Arrogance Unlimited.

I was about to flip him off when the door creaked open again.

"WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO YOU?" Gray's voice thundered across the room.

He looked at me, then straight at Kieller.

"Did the shooter get caught?"

Kieller folded his arms, jaw clenched. "Yeah. He's in jail. The police are investigating."

Gray stepped closer, fists clenched. "That's it? That's all you're going to say? What if you were late? What if she had—"

"But I wasn't late." Kieller growled.

"You still let her go after him in that condition!"

"She didn't listen. As usual."

They were arguing. Loud. Over me.

I rolled my eyes and tried to turn to my right to escape the noise — mistake.

Pain shot through my body as I accidentally rolled too far and slipped off the bed.

"AAAHHHHHH!"

"F*CK!" Kieller cursed as he lunged forward, catching me mid-fall.

I was screaming. Crying. My stitches were tearing open.

Gray smashed the emergency button.

Doctors rushed in while Kieller and Gray were pushed outside. Painkillers were added to my drip. I drifted in and out, whimpers giving way to silence.

I woke up hours later.

The room was quiet. Dim.

Someone was holding my hand — gently.

Kieller.

He had pulled a chair beside the bed. Head bowed. Eyes closed. One hand clutched mine like he was afraid I'd disappear.

I moved slightly.

He woke up instantly.

"You okay? Feeling pain? Need anything?" His voice was soft. Careful. Different.

Why was he like this?

Why… did my heart hurt looking at him?

"Just… water," I whispered.

He nodded, got the glass, and with one arm around my back, helped me sit up as he brought the glass to my lips.

The water tasted bitter from the meds.

But maybe… a little sweet, too.

Maybe because of him.

To be continued.