Page 33

Veronica

A loud crash. A cry.

Veronica jolts awake, her heart hammering in her chest.

The surface beneath her is soft—silky. A blanket drapes over her, and plush pillows surround her. The bedsheets feel familiar, luxurious, like the Egyptian cotton ones Raidon uses for his bed.

Egyptian cotton.

Realization hits her. She’s in a private jet. His private jet.

She and Shiro were going to head back to the airport and return home. But Raidon insisted on flying her back in his private jet. He was sure if he let her go into that commercial flight, he might never hear from her again.

Another cry slithers through the door. A frantic oh my god!

Her stomach twists, the clash, the scream.

She flips the blanket off, feet hitting the floor just as the door to the cabinet slides open.

Shiro stumbles in, his bluish-gray eyes wide with horror, his entire body trembling.

Panic spreads through her like wildfire. “What’s happening?” she demands, her voice shaking.

She fumbles with her loafers, her mind immediately jumping to the worst—they are crashing.

Cold sweat beads on her skin. She doesn’t want to die. Not like this—exploding midair, her body shredded into nothing but scattered bones…if they even find them.

“Come on, Tanaka, what’s happening out there?” Her voice pitches, breath coming out faster. “Are we dying?”

“He’s about to kill someone,” he says, his voice trembling.” Her stomach lurches. It’s not a crash, but a murder.

“W-ho?” The relief of not being the one dying is short-lived. Because someone else is about to.

“Come and fucking stop him.” Shiro grips her wrist, yanking her toward the door.

They both race through the meeting cabinet, the dining area, then he pulls apart a curtain.

Veronica stops dead.

Her heart slams against her ribs. Her blood roaring in her ears.

Raidon stands at the open jet door, fingers wrapped around a flight attendant’s throat. The prettiest of the three. She dangles in the air, feet kicking, her mouth open in a silent, desperate plea.

Terror chokes Veronica.

One flight attendant shakes like a leaf, eyes glossy with horror. The second pilot stands frozen, torn between acting and self-preservation.

One of Raidon’s soldiers watches, sunglasses on, arms crossed—doing nothing.

Veronica’s gaze snaps back to Raidon.

A thick veins pulses along his neck, another branches into a Y at his temple. His sneer is razor-sharp, his expression murderous.

Then it clicks.

This isn’t Raidon.

This is the other one. Kael. And one inch forward, the girl will die. He will kill her.

“Kael!”

And suddenly, a loud shrill vibrates in the room. The echo is so thunderous, times seem to freeze in motion and everywhere goes quiet enough you can almost hear a feather move through the wind.

Her command, however, draws his attention sharply to her, and indeed, she is right. The softness is gone, replaced by something deadly and lethal. He looks crazed and whatever was once lively and kind, lost behind something dark and depraved. There is not a sliver of emotion.

“Go back to bed,” he grounds out, and her feet stagger backward at the power his words carry. “Now!”

“Let her go,” she says, fear etched into every word. “Please.”

“I said, go back to bed!”

“No!” she chokes out, her head shaking rapidly. “You are about to throw a woman fifty thousand feet down and you want me to go to bed and do what? Sleep?”

“Ladybird—”

“Please, I’m begging you.”

Emotion doesn’t work on him. It seems he can’t even interpret them. So even if she starts shedding tears, he wouldn’t even flinch.

His eyes shift from her to the woman, and his jaw clenches. An invisible hand of the clock begins to tick, the air filled with tension, breaths bated, lips trembling…and he finally does it; he releases his hold on her, and the lady staggers inward, falling to the ground as a series of cough echoes from her throat. Her team members rush to her, grabbing her quickly and moving her into another cabinet.

“Kael—” Her words catch in her throat as he trudges to her, and in a fleeting second, faster than a blink, he has her pinned against a wall, his long fingers wrapping around her neck.

“What the fuck, man?!” Shiro yells, panic leaping into his tone, and from the corner of her currently burning eyes, Veronica sees Shiro surge forward in defence. But he doesn’t even glance at Shiro, his deadly eyes are on her, threatening to obliterate her.

“I am letting you off with a warning.” His voice is raspy and harsh, his hot breath which smells like coffee hitting her face, his talons digging into her neck. “Never in your life, interfere with my business again, got it?”

Veronica doesn’t even know how to answer that. She is scared, trembling and her tongue feels too heavy to speak.

“Answer me!” he growls, his heavy weight crushing her against the wall. “Do. You. Get it?”

“Mhmm.” She nods, the corners of her eyes burning with tears.

“I did not get that.”

“Y-yes,” she finally chokes out. “I’m, I’m sorry.”

His empty and cold eyes stare at her for what feels like forever and with a huff, he finally lets go.

Desperately, like she is trapped under water, she fights for air back into her lungs, her chest burning. Her back slides down the wall, her butt hitting the floor.

Through the curve of her lashes, she sees him walk away, more like cavort. Anger radiates off him, in the trembling off his fingers, in the bold veins at the corners of his neck and in his steps.

He disappears behind the drawn curtain, the sound of the bedroom door being pulled shut echoes, and two seconds later, she hears a crash. And something tells her that’s the wine glass she spotted on the tiny table in the room earlier.

“Are you okay?” Shiro asks, crouching next to her.

“Yeah.” Her voice is raspy, her weight resting on Shiro as he grabs her gently and hoists her to her feet. He walks them to the leather chair and sits her down.

“Vee.” The tone of his voice passes the message before he says the next words. “We need to get out of here.”

“No,” she says, outrightly and he jumps to his feet, eyes narrowed down at her.

“What do you mean, no?”

“I don’t know, maybe because we can’t fly out of the jet in motion. Otherwise, we might not make it from jumping fifty thousand feet off the surface of the earth.”

This is probably not a good time for sarcasm to be thrown around. This is alarming and indeed, she should be gone. But she is unable to understand what is going on here to even make a decision.

“He was just angry,” the desperate voice in her head says, “He would never hurt you.”

“I told you.” He sits back down. “I told you I didn’t trust him. I told you I had a bad feeling. Now look, he almost threw a woman off a jet in motion.” He looks at her for validation of his point. “Vee, he almost killed a woman!”

“You were here,” she says. “What happened? What did she do to him?”

“Are you for real?” he deadpans. “Does it matter what she did?”

“Just tell me what she did, Shiro.”

“She touched him,” he says, his gaze distant as if reliving the memory which was probably just ten minutes ago. “He had dozed off, she came with wine, poured it in his glass and then she started touching him. Popped his first button and then his eyes snapped open and before I could even blink, she was dangling off the jet.”

“Are you serious?” Something bitter unsettles her stomach and she refuses to believe that is jealousy and anger, and most importantly, she doesn’t even want to believe it’s directed at the woman who almost died.

But why would she do that? Touch him without his permission? It’s not as though he ever remotely showed any interest in her. So why would she go ahead and touch a man without his permission? What was her plan when she started to take off his buttons? How shameless is she anyway, seducing a man when there was literally a teenage boy sitting in the same room?

Imagine if they were alone. Would she sexually assault him?

How disgusting. Maybe he should have just let go of her neck. And maybe flying off a thousand feet down the earth would teach her a lesson.

Oh, God.

She shudders at the kind of thought going through her mind.

“ What is wrong with me?”

“Where are you going?” Shiro demands when she suddenly rises from the chair and begins to head toward the bedroom.

“I need to check on him.”

“Are you crazy?” He grabs her wrist. “He almost killed you. And with the look of things, he still looks pretty murderous? Do you want to die?”

“I’m fine, Shiro.” She tugs his hand off her. “Let me just confirm something. I’ll be out real quick.”

“Vee!” he shouts, sounding tired and frustrated. “God, Vee don’t-”

The rest of his call falls against the door of the bedroom that she already slides shut on walking in.

And just as she had suspected when he went into the room, he broke something. The wine glass on the table earlier isn’t there anymore and there are shards of broken glass on the floor.

Her eyes widen in horror when she spots droplets of blood on the floor.

Following the pattern, she sees him at the corner of the room, blood trailing down his fingers and dropping from the tip of his nails.

“Oh, my god.” Careful not to step on glass even though she has her loafers on, she crosses the room to him. “Are you okay?”

He doesn’t flinch as she stands behind him.

“You are bleeding.” The moment she grabs his hand, he pulls away and before she can take a step back, he has wrapped the bloodied hand around her neck, his thumb caressing her lips, painting them in the red of his blood.

“I almost killed her for you, you know that, right?” His lips are inches away from hers, and looking into his eyes feels like staring into the abyss. “I would’ve killed her for you.”

“What?” Her voice trembles, fear building in her chest as a sinister smile lifts the corner of his lips.

“So long as you are mine, no other woman has the right to touch me but you,” he says, voice lazy yet laced with a wicked promise. “I will get really angry, and might do unthinkable things…like I almost did until you foolishly intervened.”

“What are you saying-”

His thumb slips into her mouth, and her tongue tastes it, his blood; metallic, harsh, dark. Just like him. “And I’ll do the same to any man that dares to touch you from now on without my permission…even if it’s my brother.”

“You are sick,” she spits, her trembling voice doing no justice to how strong she wants to sound. “You are seriously sick.”

He chuckles, a sound that sends chills down her spine.

“Ladybird,” he murmurs, wrapping his free hand around her waist, holding her in place while she struggles to free herself from his captivity. “You don’t have to pretend around me.”

“Let go of me.” She throws a punch but it lands weakly on his hard chest. “Let me go.”

His fingers lock around her chin. “You can fool everyone else around you, even yourself, but you can’t fool me. There has to be a reason why my darkness echoes yours. It’s because you are just like me.”

“I am not like you-”

“-You know it, deep down you know you wanted her dead the moment you found out what she did. I bet you wished the moment could be replayed and you get to push her off yourself. And I know too.” His hand slips from her waist, travelling down the curve of her ass until it disappears under her plaid skirt. “I know you are wondering what it would look like being fucked while covered in my blood.”

“Stop it.” She whimpers, her chest constricting, her head all woozy but there is also the heat of his palm molding her ass cheek and his other hand leaving her neck to play with her nipple over the cotton shirt she has on.

“All your darkest fantasies are mine.” He pinches the pebbled nipple and a yelp leaves her lips. “I will make them play before you like a movie, and guess what?” His lips brush her jawline tentatively. “You and I will be the main characters.”

“You are actually gonna wear it?” Shiro’s voice is tight, unsettled and slightly irritated.

Veronica shrugs, hooking the gold chain around her neck, admiring how the ruby-green pendant catches the light. “It’s pretty.”

Shiro doesn’t answer right away. But she feels his stare on her, sharp as a blade, heavy with questions he hasn’t asked yet. She’s been avoiding this conversation all evening, but the weight of it looms between them, thickening the air.

Kael’s jet had landed on the rooftop of Right Angle Hotel and Suites, a place that, judging by the way the staff bowed and scrambled to accommodate him, he likely owned. He didn’t speak a word to her during the ride to her house. His eyes had been locked on his laptop, fingers flying over the keys like nothing else in the world matter. Not even her.

And yet, less than an hour later, one of his men had shown up at her door, silent, unreadable. He had handed her the small, pristine box without a word, his expression cold enough to freeze the air between them. Even when she muttered a thank you, he only turned and strode back to the car he came in, disappearing as quickly as he had come.

Unwrapping the box, she found a necklace inside it. She has never received a gift from a guy before, not even Ian. This was the first time. It made her heart warm. It made her feel special. And maybe stupid of her, it made her nearly forget how he wrapped his fingers around her throat some hours ago.

Now Shiro is watching her with something close to exasperation. And she hates that she knows what’s coming.

“We need to talk.” His voice is soft, but no less firm.

Veronica keeps her eyes locked on the mirror as she braids her hair into a French braid. “If I already know what you are gonna say, can you like, not say it? Let’s pretend everything is fine?”

Shiro scoffs. “Obviously, you can’t be serious, right?”

She doesn’t respond.

“No.” His voice sharpens, incredulous. “You can’t actually be thinking of giving a chance to a man who nearly strangled you to death. The same man who dangled a woman off a jet like it was nothing”

“He wasn’t actually going to do it,” she murmurs, the words though, sounding thin, fragile on her tongue.

How does she convince her friend that when the man wraps his fingers around her throat, he has no intention of actually hurting her? Or that when he does that, the fear and thrill turns her on?

Shiro stands, his body stiffened. “You can’t be serious, right now.”

“He was just angry—”

“Angry enough to be ready to kill someone? Enough to put his hand around your throat and squeeze?”

“He won’t hurt me.” Her hands drop from her hair, clenching into fists and pressing against her thighs.

“That wasn’t what I saw earlier.”

“I’m serious,” she says, voice barely above a whisper. “Just let it go.”

“Come on, Vee. What’s wrong with you?” He crouches down in front of her, taking her hands in his. “I know you desperately want someone to love you and care for you, someone to take you out of here and maybe at the beginning of it all, he seemed like the perfect man for that, but clearly he has some problems that he needs to sort out. I’ll recommend therapy.” He squeezes her hand gently. “Please consider these problems and not settle for him.”

Veronica swallows hard. “He just needs help.” Her throat burns. “And I already told him that I won’t leave him. Besides, I can make him better. I can help him. I can…” The words catch, shatter in her mouth. “I can make it go away. I can fix him.”

Shiro exhales sharply. “He’s not your responsibility.”

Frustration coils inside her, wrapping tight around her ribs. Why can’t he try to understand her?

“If he has problems, he should get himself checked,” he says. “He can’t drag you into his mess.”

“Just give me a few weeks.” She reaches for his hands, pleading. “I really care about him and—”

“No!” He pulls away, his eyes glossy now, and when he speaks again, his voice trembles. “This is what we call a fucking toxic relationship. What the hell is wrong with you, Veronica?”

“Stop yelling at me.” Her chest tightens. He sounds like Marlene. Everybody sounds like Marlene when they yell at her. She can’t handle it.

Shiro notices and blinks, his expression softening. “I-I’m sorry,” he whispers. “It’s bad enough knowing Marlene hurts you. I can’t stand the thought of you walking into another nightmare.” His voice cracks. “I’ll help you find someone who actually deserves you. I’ll get you out of here. Please don’t settle for that monster. Please.”

“He won’t hurt me,” she whispers, trying to convince herself more than Shiro. “He gets angry alright, but I don’t think he’ll hurt me.”

“For Christ’s sake, Veronica, why are you not listening to me?!”

“Okay, stop!” She rises to her feet so fast, the chair scrapes against the floor. She covers her face with her palms, fingers digging into her temple, chest heaving. “Please, just stop it.”

“Okay,” he sniffles. “I’ll—I’ll stop, okay. Just calm down.”

She sits back down on the chair, elbows propped against the wooden dresser, her face buried in her palms as tears roll down her cheeks.

A long silence settles between them, thick and suffocating.

Then, a car horn blares outside.

Shiro releases a sharp exhale. “That’s my mom,” he murmurs, his voice quiet, drained as he grabs his duffel bag, hitching it over his shoulder. “I’ll talk to you later.”

He exits the room, his footsteps fading down the hall. The front door slams shut a second later.

And just like that, she’s alone. Alone with her thoughts

Alone with the reckless choice she has made.