Chapter 21: The Fire Doesn’t Die

Chapter 21:

POV: Kieller

The flight took three brutal hours before we finally touched down in the U.S. at 11:00 AM sharp. Barely had the wheels hit the tarmac when I saw it—news already flashing on every media outlet: Lyra Vale and Kieller Voss spotted together.

How the hell do these people even get this stuff? The whole trip was supposed to be under wraps. But whatever. The damage was done.

At the airport entrance, it only got worse. A swarm of press had gathered, eyes lighting up when they saw Lyra beside me. We couldn't explain why we were here—confidential negotiations, sensitive terms—but I had to think fast.

To shut them up, I grabbed her hand.

She stiffened.

Good.

"Think whatever the hell you want," I said under my breath, and we walked to the waiting white Rolls Royce. I opened the door for her. Gently. It surprised her—hell, it surprised me too.

Once inside, the door clicked shut, and she exploded.

"Was that necessary?" she barked.

Of course. She was always barking.

"Relax," I replied flatly, letting the arrogance drip. "I did it to shut them up. Unless you want NexaTech to pull out after your little disappearance stunt?"

That stopped her. But not for long.

She launched into another verbal barrage. I swear, if there were an award for barking like a damn queen, she'd win every year.

But there was no time for her tantrums. Dorian Gray—the NexaTech U.S. CEO—was waiting. A man known for being sharp, ruthless, and easily offended. If she slipped up, the entire deal could go up in flames. And with it, our company's future.

As we arrived, I whispered, "Pretend you don't hate me."

I stepped out and opened the door for her. Extended my hand. To my shock, she took it. Her fingers slid into mine like they belonged there.

Focus, Kieller.

Gray stood at the entrance, arms folded. I reached out to greet him—he ignored me. That bast**d.

But for Lyra? His hand was already outstretched.

"A man who doesn't offer his hand must be used to others begging for it," she said smoothly, roasting him with a smile. "Excuse the clumsy queen in me."

I wanted to smirk, but I didn't.

"Welcome, Miss Lyra Vale. I've been... very curious about you."

Curious, my foot.

"Flattery is a weak weapon," she replied. "Try interest instead."

Really? That's how she wanted to play this?

And then—just to make it worse—they abandoned me and walked away, talking like old friends.

Lyra was back to her full arrogance.

Fine. Two can play this game.

The conference hall was painfully elegant. Formal greetings, predictable speeches. She spoke about her fashion empire with pride and poise. I had to match it.

"Voss International will power the global rollout—" I began.

But Gray cut me off. "Actually, we already have logistics covered. Mr. Voss, your role will be... media compliance."

Media compliance? What the actual hell?

I bit back the curse. "Of course," I said with a smile so fake I wanted to punch myself.

After everyone left, I stayed behind. My blood boiled.

"Media compliance? What am I, a da*n intern?" I muttered.

She heard me. Of course she did.

"You mean like how you treat everyone else?" she said coolly.

"Don't test me, Lyra," I warned.

"Oh sweetheart, you were the test. And you failed."

That did it.

"You couldn't even stop yourself from getting ra**—" I stopped myself too late.

Silence. Her eyes filled. One tear fell.

And then she ran.

I chased her, but she slipped on her heels—falling right into Gray's arms.

"What the hell?" I roared. "Are you seriously falling into his arms now?"

"I tripped," she snapped. "Not that it's your business anymore."

"Everything about you is my business."

"Correction: It used to be. Now it's just your obsession."

Gray stepped between us.

"I know what I saw," he said. "You cornered her, broke her down, and now you're chasing her like a dog afraid someone else might treat her better."

"I warned you," I growled. "Watch your words."

"I never repeat myself," he said simply.

"Enough!" Lyra shouted. "I'm done with this territorial circus."

"Then let me take you to dinner," Gray offered.

No. Hell no.

"You're not going anywhere with him."

"You don't command me, Kieller."

"Lyra—"

But she was already walking off with him.

And just like that, she was gone.

I downed ten bottles of wine in my suite, but her face stayed in my mind like a scar.

At midnight, I couldn't take it anymore. I checked her room—five times. She hadn't returned. I asked the valet.

"Elowen," he said. A restaurant I knew well.

"Give me the keys," I snapped. "And don't tell anyone."

When I got there, Gray was outside. No Lyra.

"She left without telling us," he said.

I ran. Literally. For two hours. Like a madman through the streets.

And then—I saw her.

She was walking alone. I called out, but she turned down an alley.

By the time I followed, she was gone.

No.

Then—voices. Men. Struggling.

I turned the corner and saw them.

They had her.

"Hey! Leave her!" I shouted.

One of them sneered. "Need help fighting this drunk, boss?"

Oh, I was drunk. But I could still fight.

I took down one, then another—until one hit me with a rod.

I fell.

Their boss grabbed Lyra. Pulled her hair. His hands went places they had no right to.

"Don't you dare," I warned, bleeding on the ground.

Lyra was laughing—drunk out of her mind. "Wait… do I know you?" she said.

She didn't even realize what was happening.

"Lyra, wake up! Just kick him or something!"

"Nope," she replied sweetly. "You're a bast**d."

The guy was groping her now, kissing her neck. Her arms were pinned.

"Kieller… help me…" she finally said, her voice breaking.

My rage exploded.

I stood.

I fought.

I saw her collapse.

I grabbed a nearby gun—fired once, twice.

The boss dropped.

I ran to her. She was unconscious but breathing. I splashed water on her.

Her eyes fluttered open.

"Ahh, you're here. I was thinking of you, Kieller baby," she said in a childlike voice.

"Let's go drink more!"

Unbelievable.

"You had two glasses of wine?" I asked.

She raised two fingers.

"Two."

I drank ten. Fought five men. And she's calling me baby?

Screw it. I smiled. "Let's go, baby."

We went to a small roadside place. She insisted.

"Not here. It's too normal," I protested.

"No, we'll drink here."

We drank.

Laughed.

And somehow, I forgot I hated her.

"I'm sorry about earlier," I muttered.

"For what?" she asked.

She remembered nothing.

"I take it back then," I smirked.

Later, she said she was tired. I piggybacked her back to the hotel. She mumbled something about wanting to die.

"Don't say that," I said quietly. "You're mine. And I save what's mine."

She didn't reply.

Just leaned into me.

I laid her on the bed. Took off her heels. Bandaged the shoe bites. Tucked her in.

Then I walked to my room. Collapsed into my bed.

And for once, even in sleep, she didn't leave my mind.