Hey everyone,
I've been thinking a lot lately about where to continue sharing my stories. After trying out other platforms, it feels like things just aren't working out the way I hoped. So, I'm seriously considering reopening my Patreon account again.
This time, though, I plan to keep things a little cleaner — I won't be uploading the spicy or R-rated chapters there anymore. I want to focus on storytelling, worldbuilding, and giving you all consistent updates without worrying about content restrictions.
What do you all think? Would you still be interested in supporting and reading on Patreon if I relaunch it that way?
Your feedback really matters to me — it'll help me decide the best direction to take moving forward.
Thank you all for sticking with me through everything. Your support means more than words can express. 💛
*****
{Chapter: 196 - Tension in the Hotel}
"Please—please don't kill me!" Sylar blurted out, his voice trembling as he lay half-crushed under the hard light construct binding him. His breathing was labored, blood trickling down the side of his face from the previous below. "I wasn't trying to hurt her! I just… I just wanted to understand. I was curious—curious about why you didn't take her power. Why you left it untouched when it's clearly so… unique."
Aiden's expression remained unreadable, his eyes dimly glowing with energy as he observed the man before him. There was no urgency in his stance. He stood there, arms loosely crossed, like a judge watching a criminal write his own sentence.
"Oh?" Aiden tilted his head. "That's not what I heard. You were just about to slice open her skull, weren't you? Wanted to see how her ability works, isn't that right?"
Sylar's mouth twitched, his signature charm faltering under pressure. He shook his head rapidly, switching tones with practiced ease. "You're misinterpreting it. Look, I know how it sounds—but think about it. People like her, they don't use their powers right. Not really. She could've been so much more, but instead, what does she do? Hide. Survive. Waste potential. You and I—we're different. We use what we have. We're not afraid of becoming something more."
"You're preaching," Aiden said with a wry smile, tapping a single finger against his temple. "And frankly, you're boring me."
Sylar persisted, ignoring the remark. "Listen to me," he said, more urgently. "We're the next step in evolution. The future. You must see that! God—or fate, or whatever you believe in—chose us. Why waste that gift by letting mediocrity cling to it? Take her power. Use it. Refine it. Do something great with it. That's what I've always done. That's the point."
Aiden nodded slowly, almost thoughtfully, as if he was considering Sylar's words. His fingers flexed once in the air, and the force that held Sylar began to slacken—just enough to give him hope.
Sylar saw it and seized the opportunity like a vulture diving on a wounded animal. "Exactly," he said, voice rising with renewed excitement. "Exactly. You get it. You're not like the rest of them—you're like me."
Aiden's eyes narrowed slightly.
A whisper escaped his lips. "But this world already has me…"
Sylar blinked. "…What?"
"…So it doesn't need you."
There was a moment of stunned silence. Sylar opened his mouth, but no words came.
Aiden's hand clenched into a fist.
Without warning, Sylar's body slammed violently into the ceiling with a crunching crack, then was hurled into the far wall with bone-jarring force. A second later, he was smashed into the ground, and then back into the ceiling. Again. Again. Again. The apartment shuddered with each brutal impact—wall, floor, ceiling, wall again. Plaster crumbled. A light fixture burst. Blood sprayed across the room.
Sarah stood frozen near the bedroom doorway, hand over her mouth as she watched in horrified awe. The same man who had nearly murdered her was now being reduced to pulp before her eyes.
And Aiden? He didn't flinch. He watched the scene unfold with cold, detached precision—more like a scientist conducting an experiment than a man delivering punishment.
At last, Aiden extended his hand, and Sylar's broken body floated forward still bind in the dark green hard light construct his limbs limp and bloody, his head lolling from side to side.
"I said I'd take your ability," Aiden said, more to himself than to Sylar, "and I keep my word."
He placed a hand on Sylar's forehead. A forcw surged from Aiden's palm, snaking down into Sylar's skull like living tendrils. Sylar's eyes rolled back as he convulsed, a low scream rising from his throat—half-pain, half-defiance—but it was no use. Aiden's grip was absolute. His absorption process was far slower than usual—his body still hadn't recovered from whatever condition had been limiting his abilities—but he pressed on, teeth gritted, focused entirely on the task.
Minutes passed like hours.
Finally, with one last surge of power, Aiden withdrew his hand. His chest rose and fell with the effort, but his expression remained composed.
"You… were sloppy," he murmured, staring at Sylar's body with disinterest. "You took what you wanted because you could, not because you should. That's the difference between us."
With a final wave of his hand, Sylar's lifeless body was flung out the shattered apartment window like a rag doll.
"Sarah," Aiden said, brushing dust from his coat, "you might want to clean up."
Bang!!
A heavy, sickening thud echoed from far below. Neither of them needed to look to know Sylar's story had come to a definitive end.
Sarah, now trembling with adrenaline and delayed panic, snapped out of her daze. She rushed into the bedroom and threw open her closet, grabbing a backpack and suitcase from under the bed. She didn't need to be told twice—Sylar showing up meant the authorities would come next. Even if they defended themselves, the chaos left behind would only bring questions, suspicion, and worst of all—detention.
She packed fast, muscle memory guiding her through every item—documents, burner phone, some clothes, and one small pendant she never let out of her sight. She zipped the bag, threw on a jacket, and turned to Aiden, who stood calmly near the broken window.
"Ready?" he asked.
She nodded. "As ready as I'll ever be."
Aiden eyed her for a moment, then without warning, he stepped forward, wrapped an arm around her waist, and jumped out of the window.
"What the hell are you doing!? Are you crazy!?" she screamed, clinging to him in terror as the wind howled past them. Her mind raced—ten floors up, and Sylar had just died from that fall!
Aiden simply smirked. "Relax."
Before they could plummet more than a few stories, the air shimmered beneath them. Dark green energy spiraled up from below like a funnel, catching them and slowing their descent until they hovered gently above the rooftops.
Cradled in Aiden's arms, Sarah blinked at the city lights below them. It was breathtaking. Terrifying, yes—but also beautiful. She felt like she was flying.
"W-What is this?" she whispered, gripping his shoulder.
"Just a little something I have," Aiden said softly. "Now hold on tight."
He adjusted his grip, and with a pulse of light, the two of them rocketed forward, disappearing into the night sky—one step ahead of the law, and miles ahead of fate.
The night air had barely settled when Aiden and Sarah landed softly inside his room in the hotel through a window. Sarah, her heart still pounding from the high-altitude glide through the cityscape, stepped away from him, knees slightly unsteady. The lights of the city twinkled beneath them like scattered fragments of a broken dream.
Aiden watched her with a calm, unreadable gaze, then casually extended a wine glass toward her. The crimson liquid swirled slightly, catching the reflection of the rooftop lights.
"You look like you could use this," he said, his voice smooth and rich.
Without thinking, Sarah accepted the glass and took a sip. The taste hit her before her mind caught up—dry, full-bodied, expensive.
"Where do I live?" she asked finally, her voice still carrying a faint edge of disbelief from everything that had happened that evening. Her mind was trying to catch up with the whirlwind of chaos—Sylar's death, the sudden escape, flying through the sky like a superhero.
Aiden walked to the balcony door and held it open for her with a slight smirk. "This suite is massive. Plenty of room. You can stay here."
Sarah stepped inside slowly, looking around the suite. It was more of a penthouse—glass walls, sleek furniture, and the faint scent of lavender from some automatic air freshener. She turned to him, all seriousness now.
"Just to be clear," she said, crossing her arms, "I'm your secretary. I'm not your... whatever you're thinking. So keep those thoughts in check."
Aiden raised his eyebrows, amused by her defensive stance. "Thoughts?" he asked, stepping closer. "You sure you're not the one doing the thinking?"
Before she could retort, he moved in—a little too close—and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her gently but firmly toward him. Sarah gasped, instinctively placing her hands on his chest to push away, but her fingers didn't follow through. The warmth of him. The raw energy she could feel just beneath his skin. It was distracting.
Her breath hitched as her chest pressed lightly against his. She could smell the faint hint of ozone on him—an odd scent, like the aftermath of lightning.
"I'm warning you," she whispered, trying to sound stern but failing miserably.
"I don't need to force you to do anything," Aiden said, his voice low and teasing. "That's your job, isn't it? Forcing people into things?"
That hit her harder than she expected. She looked down for a moment, swallowing hard.
"I didn't ask for this," she said.
"No one does. But you're here, and you're alive." He tilted her chin up with one finger. "And I saved you."
She hesitated, then, on impulse, stood on her tiptoes and pressed her lips softly against his. The kiss was brief, uncertain, but genuine. A moment passed, and then she pulled away, her cheeks pink, avoiding his eyes.
"Thank you," she whispered.
Aiden blinked, caught off guard by the gesture. Slowly, he touched his lips and gave a slow, almost smug smile. "Cunning girl…"
He walked across the room and, with a flick of his hand, a shopping bag appeared in mid-air and hovered toward her on a dark green platform. Sarah blinked.