Rafe drove very fast through the narrow forest road, the headlights slicing through the darkness like blades. The rainy clouds above hung heavy and low, but inside the car the air was even cold. He kept glancing at the rear-view mirror, where the boy sat curled in the back seat. Rafe's jacket swallowed his whole body, hiding most of his small frame. Only his blue eyes showed, wide and trembling, catching every shift of shadow like they might turn into some kind of monsters.
Rafe wasn't a man who dealt with passengers. His world was filled with blood , bullets and arguments behind closed doors, gunshots echoing in alleyways, the sharp bark of orders being followed. But now, inside the muted hum of the car, the silence pressed against him in a way he didn't expect.
"You cold?" Rafe asked, tone gruff but quieter than usual.
Ayan looked up slowly. He didn't utter a word , maybe he didn't trust the sound of his own voice yet. He simply shook his head, a small, uncertain motion.
"You don't have to be scared of me, kid," Rafe muttered.
But Ayan's fingers tightened around the jacket, and the slight tremor running through his arms told Rafe exactly how scared the boy was. Fear was his second nature. Maybe his first.
When the car finally reached a clearing hidden deep inside the forest, Rafe felt some of the tension slip from his shoulders. A small cabin stood in the darkness a safe house no one else knew existed. It was where he hid when the world grew too loud. Tonight, it was Ayan's shelter.
Rafe parked and stepped out. The boy didn't move until Rafe opened the back door and crouched beside him.
"Come on," Rafe said, voice gentler than he liked to use. "You're safe here."
Ayan hesitated before sliding out of the seat. The cold earth met his bare feet, and he flinched. Rafe cursed under his breath.
"Damn it. Shoes. Tomorrow, first thing."
Ayan said nothing, but when he looked up a real look, not the fearful flickers from before Rafe felt something sharp twist in his chest. Ayan's eyes held the kind of exhaustion people weren't meant to carry at that age. And something else too… something that made Rafe pause.
He unlocked the cabin door and pushed it open. Warm lamplight spilled across the wooden floor, revealing a small table, one chair, and a single bed. Rafe noticed suddenly he didn't even have an extra pillow.
Ayan stepped inside cautiously, his gaze darting to every corner of the room like he was checking for threats. He looked at the window, then the door, then the floor. Memorizing escape routes. Practicing survival.
Rafe watched with a sinking feeling. "Sit," he said, pointing at the bed.
Ayan obeyed instantly. Too instantly. Obedience was carved into him.
Rafe filled a cup with water and handed it over. The boy stared at it first, uncertain, then lifted it with both hands and drank far too quickly. Some water spilled down his chin and onto the jacket.
Without thinking, Rafe reached out and wiped the droplets away with the back of his thumb.
Ayan froze like he'd been struck.
Rafe immediately pulled his hand back. "Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you."
Ayan blinked at him, a flicker of confusion in his expression. Maybe no one had apologized to him before.
Rafe dragged the chair closer to the table and sat, giving Ayan space. "Look. I need to ask you something." Ayan tensed. Rafe raised his palms slightly, signaling calm. "Just your name."
The answer came soft as a breath. "Ayan."
"Ayan," he repeated, anchoring it into his memory. "Good. Do you… know those men?"
Ayan shook his head.
"Do you know why they kept you there?"
A slower shake this time. Maybe he didn't know. Maybe he couldn't say.
Rafe decided not to push. He knew enough about broken people to understand when questions became knives.
Outside, the wind began to whistle. Something rattled against the cabin walls, and Ayan jerked at the sound, eyes wide. His breathing sped up, shallow and sharp.
Rafe's voice cut through it. "No one's coming for you tonight."
Ayan looked at him, uncertain.
"I'm the only one who knows this place," Rafe said, firm enough to make it real. "You can sleep. I'll stay awake."
Ayan shifted on the bed, eyes flicking between Rafe and the door, unsure whether to trust either. Rafe pointed at the mattress.
"Lie down," he said. "Your body's been through enough."
Slowly, Ayan lowered himself onto the bed. He didn't relax, not fully. His muscles stayed tense, ready to flee. His fingers clutched at the blanket like it might disappear.
Rafe watched him from the chair, arms crossed, gaze steady. He kept still so Ayan wouldn't startle again.
Minutes crawled by. The lamplight flickered softly.
Ayan's eyes fluttered shut once, twice, but snapped open each time with a jolt of panic. He would glance at Rafe, as if verifying the man was still there, still calm, still not a threat. And Rafe made sure his expression stayed neutral. Maybe even soft.
"You can sleep," Rafe murmured. "I won't let anything happen to you."
Ayan's breaths grew slower, deeper. Eventually he drifted off, curled into himself like a small animal trying to stay warm. The jacket slipped slightly, revealing a thin shoulder. Too thin.
Something tightened painfully in Rafe's chest. He had seen suffering before. Caused it, too. But this—this boy who drank water like it was stolen, who flinched at shadows, who slept like he was used to waking up scared this shook him.
A gust of wind hit the window, and Ayan whimpered in his sleep, curling tighter.
Rafe stood, walked quietly across the room, grabbed an extra blanket, and draped it over him. Ayan didn't wake, but his hands loosened slightly.
Rafe pulled the chair closer to the bed close enough for Ayan to see him easily when he opened his eyes.
He wasn't sure why he did it.
Maybe protection.
Maybe something deeper.
Rafe leaned back, eyes fixed on Ayan's sleeping form, and for the first time in years, he stayed awake not because he feared his enemies…
…but because someone else needed him.
The first night passed slowly.
And something new began.
continue..............