Ethan:
The moment she lay down, the room felt smaller.
Too quiet.
Too still.
Ethan stood on the terrace, there for a few seconds longer, his jaw tight, his breathing controlled—but not calm.
Not anymore.
Her words replayed in his head.
How many girls…
It wasn't the question.
Not really.
It was the timing.
The way she asked it.
The way she looked at him—like she needed something from him he didn't know how to give.
Reassurance.
Something soft.
Something human.
And that—
That irritated him.
Because he didn't do that.
He never had.
His fingers curled slightly at his side.
Then without another word—
He turned.
Walked out of the room.
The door closed behind him, quieter than expected.
But the silence it left behind felt loud.
---
He moved down the stairs slowly.
Each step measured.
Controlled.
Like he was forcing himself not to go back.
Not to say something worse.
Or something he couldn't take back.
The house was dark.
Only a few lights left on.
The kind of silence he was used to.
The kind that didn't ask questions.
Didn't demand answers.
---
He walked straight to the bar kitchen.
Didn't hesitate.
Didn't think.
He grabbed a glass.
Poured.
The sound of the liquid hitting the glass echoed in the quiet space.
Sharp.
Clean.
Simple.
He picked it up.
Drank.
The burn hit instantly.
Strong.
Familiar.
Grounding.
He exhaled slowly.
Then poured another.
---
After a moment—
He stepped outside.
The night air was cooler now.
Calmer.
The pool reflected the moonlight perfectly, the surface almost still except for small ripples from the breeze.
Ethan walked toward the edge.
Stopped.
Stood there.
The glass in his hand catching the faint light.
He took another sip.
Then another.
His gaze fixed on the water.
But he wasn't really looking at it.
His mind wasn't there.
---
"I don't want to feel like I'm just another one of them."
Her voice.
Soft.
But it stayed.
It shouldn't have.
But it did.
His grip on the glass tightened slightly.
"…You're not," he muttered under his breath.
The words felt strange.
Unfamiliar.
Like something he wasn't used to saying.
Or even thinking.
---
He leaned slightly against the edge, looking up at the sky.
The moon hung high.
Bright.
Cold.
Detached.
Just like everything else in his world.
Simple.
Predictable.
No emotions.
No complications.
No questions.
---
But she—
She was none of that.
And that was the problem.
---
He let out a slow breath.
"…Why ask that now…" he murmured.
It didn't make sense to him.
Not in that moment.
Not when everything between them had already been decided.
Or at least—
He thought it had.
---
His phone buzzed in his pocket.
He ignored it.
Another sip.
Then again.
The alcohol didn't blur his thoughts.
It never did.
It just made them quieter.
More distant.
---
"…You don't belong in this world."
He had said that to her.
And he meant it.
Because this—
This wasn't something you explained.
It wasn't something you adjusted to.
You either understood it.
Or you didn't survive it.
---
He looked back at the house.
At the window of his room.
Where she was.
Probably still awake.
Thinking.
Questioning.
Feeling things he didn't.
Or refused to.
---
His jaw tightened again.
"…She wants answers," he said quietly.
But what he didn't say—
Was that he didn't have the kind she wanted.
---
Another memory surfaced.
Elena's voice.
"He doesn't leave things behind."
His gaze darkened slightly.
No.
He didn't.
And that was exactly why this was complicated.
Because if she was just like the others—
Temporary.
Replaceable—
Then none of this would matter.
But she wasn't.
And that—
That was the issue.
---
He took a deeper drink this time.
The glass nearly empty now.
His fingers tapped lightly against it.
A habit.
A sign of thought.
Of calculation.
---
"…You're asking for something I don't give."
He had said that too.
And it was true.
Because love—
Attachment—
Those weren't things he trusted.
Not anymore.
Not after everything.
---
But still—
His eyes shifted back to the window.
And stayed there.
Longer than they should have.
---
"…Then why didn't I walk away?"
The question came quietly.
Unintentionally.
And he didn't answer it.
Because he already knew.
---
The wind picked up slightly.
The water in the pool rippling more noticeably now.
Breaking the perfect reflection of the moon.
Distorting it.
Just like everything else.
---
Ethan set the empty glass down on the edge.
Then ran a hand through his hair.
Exhaling slowly.
He wasn't angry anymore.
Not fully.
Just…
Restless.
---
"She doesn't understand," he said to himself.
A pause.
"…And I don't want her to."
Because if she did—
She would see everything.
Not just the parts he allowed.
But the real parts.
The ones that didn't deserve to be understood.
---
His phone buzzed again.
This time—
He checked it.
A message.
Short.
Direct.
Work.
His expression returned to normal instantly.
Cold.
Focused.
Controlled.
---
But even then—
For a brief moment—
His gaze shifted back.
Upstairs.
---
"…Sleep," he muttered under his breath.
Whether he meant himself—
Or her—
Even he didn't know.
---
He picked up the glass again.
Walked back inside slowly.
The night behind him.
The silence following him.
And something unresolved—
Still lingering in the air.
Between them.
Unspoken.
Unfinished.
Ethan stepped back inside, the cool night air fading behind him as the glass doors slid shut with a soft sound.
The house felt quiet again.
Too quiet.
He picked up the half-empty bottle from the bar and poured himself another drink, slower this time. His movements were steady, controlled—like nothing inside him had shifted.
But it had.
His phone buzzed again in his hand.
This time, he didn't ignore it.
He unlocked the screen and looked down.
Kai.
A short message.
Direct.
Just the way Kai always sent them.
Ethan's eyes scanned the text once.
Then again.
And the air around him seemed to grow heavier.
---
"Order from your father. Target confirmed. You handle it personally. Deadline: day after tomorrow. Details attached."
---
For a moment, Ethan didn't move.
Didn't blink.
His grip on the phone tightened just slightly.
"…Of course," he muttered under his breath.
It was never a request.
Never a suggestion.
When it came from his father—
It was an order.
And orders weren't meant to be questioned.
---
He opened the attached file.
A name.
A face.
A location.
All clean.
All precise.
Everything laid out like a routine task.
Like it was nothing more than business.
Ethan stared at the photo for a few seconds longer than necessary.
Memorizing.
Analyzing.
Breaking it down.
The way he always did.
But this time—
There was a small pause.
Barely noticeable.
But it was there.
---
His mind flickered back—
To earlier.
To her voice.
"You talk about killing people like it's nothing."
His jaw tightened.
"…It is nothing," he said quietly.
But the words didn't feel as solid as they usually did.
---
He locked the phone.
Set it down on the counter.
Then picked up his drink and took a slow sip.
The burn grounded him again.
Pulled him back to where he belonged.
Control.
Focus.
No hesitation.
---
"This ends in two days," he said under his breath.
Not to anyone.
Just… stating it.
Because that's how it worked.
A target.
A deadline.
An outcome.
No emotions.
No complications.
---
But even as he stood there—
His gaze shifted slightly.
Toward the stairs.
Toward her room.
Where she was.
Sleeping.
Or maybe not.
Thinking.
Questioning.
Feeling things he didn't have time for.
Didn't allow himself to have.
---
His fingers tapped lightly against the glass again.
A quiet rhythm.
"…This is why you don't belong here," he murmured.
Not angry.
Not harsh.
Just… certain.
Because this world didn't stop.
Didn't slow down.
Didn't change.
Not for anyone.
---
He picked up his phone again.
Typed a short reply.
"Send full details. I'll handle it."
Sent.
No hesitation.
No second thought.
---
That was who he was.
What he did.
What he had always done.
---
And yet—
As he stood there in the quiet house—
With the faint echo of her voice still in his mind—
For the first time in a long time—
It didn't feel as simple as it used to.