It had been a week. Seven days of pretending I didn't hear the whispers in the club. Seven days of ignoring the looks Kyler gave me from across the room. Seven days of fighting the feeling that maybe… I didn't fully hate him.
But I wanted to.
I needed to.
That night, I was cleaning up after the club closed. The lights were dimmed. The music long gone. Just silence and shadows left behind.
I was wiping down a counter when I heard his voice behind me.
"You're still here."
I jumped. "You scared me."
Kyler stood with his arms crossed, leaning against the doorframe. He wasn't wearing his usual black coat. Just a plain dark shirt that made him look younger. Less mafia. More… human.
"You work hard," he said. "Most girls would have run by now."
I set the cloth down and faced him. "Most girls aren't trying to pay off their father's life."
He walked in slowly, every step like thunder echoing through my chest.
"I want to show you something," he said.
I frowned. "Why?"
"Because I want you to understand who I am."
Everything in me screamed not to go. But curiosity? It's a dangerous thing.
I followed him.
He took me upstairs to a hidden room above the club. Inside was quiet, warm. Filled with books, leather chairs, old paintings. It looked nothing like the place downstairs.
"This is your… office?" I asked.
He nodded. Then he walked to a photo on the wall. A boy—maybe ten years old—standing next to a woman with long dark hair.
"My mother," Kyler said. "She died when I was sixteen. Shot in front of me."
I turned slowly to look at him. He wasn't cold now. He wasn't scary. He was… broken. Just like me.
"Why are you telling me this?" I asked.
"Because you looked at me like I was a monster," he said softly. "But monsters are made, Ash. Not born."
Something inside me cracked.
And maybe he saw it, because he stepped closer. Too close.
I felt my breath catch. His hand brushed my cheek.
"You don't belong in this world," he whispered. "But now you're in it because of me."
My voice trembled. "Do you regret it?"
He didn't answer with words. Just silence and eyes full of storms.
Then… he left.
I sat alone in that room, surrounded by his memories. And I realized something terrifying.
The more I saw of his pain…
The less I hated him.