FIRE & FRAGMENTS

Bodies swayed in rhythm with the beat—each step, each movement, drawing me closer to a boundless pit.

Closer to him.

Those deep blue eyes outshined every blazing light stationed in the club.

I was drowning in them.

Without breaking eye contact—not even for a second, I walked toward him. The sea of people seemed to blur into nothing, the walls shrinking, the air tightening. It was as if the room was collapsing into this one singular point: us. His piercing eyes held me wide open. Bare. Vulnerable. And yet, I did not run.

Despite the invisible force pulling us together—undeniably and wildly—I did not even want to run. I craved him. The rough gentleness of his hands grazing my skin with a warmth I had not felt in years… His soft, plump lips — I could already taste them: sweet, tender, but edged with raw hunger. A burning ache pulsed deep inside me. Toward a stranger. One who, somehow, had the power to set my entire body on fire—when everything else in my life felt like it was crumbling.

Just when my mind was about to dive into a world I knew I should not indulge in— A warm, large hand wrapped around my wrist and pulled me in. A soft gasp escaped my lips—half from the suddenness, half from the throbbing ache that pulsed through my core. My breath hitched. Our faces hovered so close that his sharply structured nose brushed mine. My flat, wide little button nose—now pressed into his.

And in that moment, under the strobing lights, I swore we were not breathing air—we were breathing each other. My heart was drumming, fixed, against my ribcage. If not for the loud music, he could have heard it. Just when I thought nothing about him could make me feel more than I already desperately wanted to deny— he spoke.

His voice was raw.

Deep. Raspy.

Undeniably sexy, yet laced with a calm, cocky confidence that made my knees buckle. I would have fallen—if he hadn’t still been holding me so close.

“Deep brown eyes that ignite every cold wall... bringing warmth that radiates through the body—right down to the soul.”

“How can someone hold such divinely breathtaking power and still look innocent, with dangerously sexy curves and that quiet confidence?”

Those were the words he whispered to me.

I should’ve rolled my eyes.

Should’ve laughed.

But I loved it.

He carried charisma, character, courage—and a masculinity men of this generation seem to have long abandoned.

One of his hands slid to my waist, the other trailing down my exposed back. His fingertips moved slowly, almost reverently, like he was learning me through touch. Every stroke echoed desire in unspoken volumes. I arched my back slightly, hand balling up the collar of his shirt to regain some sort of control.

But I knew—I was already losing it. Our lips hovered an inch apart—breaths tangled, hearts pounding. I could taste the moment before it happened.

But just as our lips were about to collide— Everything turned pitch black.

“Kiara!!” “Kiara! It was nothing — you misunderstood!”

“How could you do this, Shawn?” I gasped.

I needed to breathe.

But there was no air.

It felt like I was being choked—by my own thoughts, my own reality.

The club dissolved.

The fire vanished.

And all that remained was this gaping hole inside me, where something had just begun… or had been broken long ago.

Run!! Run!! Run! Like a girl!!

I needed to breathe again.

I needed survival.

But all I could hear was the music — banging, blaring — now bleeding with hurt and frustration, its irritating echoes clawing at my mind.

“Kiara!”

“What’s wrong? Where are you going?” I heard my friend’s voice calling out from somewhere behind me — far away, lost in the swarm of drunk, horny bodies.

But I couldn’t speak.

Not now.

Not like this.

I shoved through the crowd, my pace increasing, my heartbeat racing. I burst through the club’s exit, lungs burning, emotions spilling over. My fingers trembled as I dug through my bag for the keys, cursing under my breath when they wouldn’t show.

Finally, I found them, shoved them into the ignition, and slid into the driver’s seat.

I didn’t look back.

I didn’t think.

I just drove.

Pressing aggressively on the brakes at the sight of a blue Lamborghini ahead of me, its headlights blaring.

I tried to distinguish the eyes behind the wheel, through my tear-filled vision. Raising my hand, I wiped the tears away—and my heart stopped.

Our eyes met again.

The driver’s side door opened slowly, and he stepped out—looking even more breathtaking than before. My breath hitched. He moved closer with deliberate, confident steps, each one making me question what exactly he wanted. This was more than just a stranger’s desire or a one-night stand.

What did this dangerously attractive man want from me—on a night when all I wanted was to crawl away and hide from this tumultuous world?

“Are you okay?” His voice was soft but edged with quiet authority, those gentle, curious blue eyes searching mine like he wanted to unravel every hidden thought.

Still, it didn’t answer the question burning in my mind—what exactly did he want from me? I barely knew him.

And here he was, acting like a golden retriever boyfriend—caring and protective—yet with that unmistakable mafia boss dominance lingering beneath the surface.

“What do you want from me?” I asked, curiosity and frustration lacing my voice as I stepped out of the car.

I tried to ignore the fact that I had already slightly opened the door for a stranger who felt oddly familiar—like a ghost from a dream I couldn’t quite place—even before he began to approach.

No matter what this was, I couldn’t let him see me break. I never let anyone—not even those bound to me by blood or sentiment—witness my cracks.

And with him? That’s never going to happen.

“Won’t you say something? Or did you lose your voice after leaving the club?” I accused, anger and frustration threading through my words. Just as I was about to continue, he beat me to it.

“Don’t you remember me?” His voice held a curious edge, his expression searching mine like he truly wanted an answer.

I froze. Was it me whose head was messed up? Or him? We literally just met a few minutes ago—how could he question my memory? Who did he think he was?

“Of course, I remember you… We literally just met at the club,” I said, confusion sharpening my tone. “Or did you hit your head somewhere while driving?”

For a moment, a flicker of light—something like hope—shone in his eyes. But then it quickly dimmed, swallowed by emptiness. That look… it felt like deflated hope.

Who exactly was this guy?

Why did he care so much about what happened to me?

Why was he even following me?

Was he one of those men who stalk women after being denied the fantasy of something that was never real to begin with?

“It seems like you didn’t hear me the last time.”

“What exactly do you wan—” I snapped in aggravation, but before I could finish, he cut me off.

In a blur, he swooped me off the ground — smooth, effortless, like I weighed nothing at all.

A gasp tore from my lips, sharp and raw. Disbelief gripped me.

Anger flared deep inside, rising like a storm. I slammed my fists against his back in protest — again and again — but it didn’t faze him. Not even a flinch.

His back felt like steel.

And I? I felt like chaos in his arms.

“I’m sorry, but I’ll tell you everything when we get there,” he coaxed, his voice calm — too calm — like it carried a promise I wasn’t ready to believe.

His tone wrapped around me like a blanket, dangerously comforting. But I couldn’t let my guard down. Not with someone I hardly knew.

I raised my hand again to protest, my fist connecting with his back in resistance.

Without warning, he let go.

The sudden drop from his arms sent a wave of vulnerability crashing into me. I felt bare. Exposed. The cold breeze slapped against my skin, cruel and unrelenting — a brutal reminder that I was no longer in the warmth of his hold.

And yet… I hated how much I already missed it.

That safety. That heat. That sense of being held.

Snapping out of my reckless thoughts, I watched as he opened the car door and gently placed me in the passenger seat like I was fragile glass. I curled into the soft leather, hugging myself tightly in desperate search for warmth — both from the cold outside and the storm inside.

The moment he stepped into the car, it felt small — like he occupied the interior with his presence alone. I looked up at him, using the blue lights that shined at each corner of the car as a guide as I absorbed his features once again. His beautiful black hair looked mesmerizing even in its messy state, which made me wonder if it was in this state because of me — as it looked less messy back in the club. A strand of his hair swooped slightly to the side, brushing his left brow, which was a bit arched. His deep blue eyes were now looking at me with such intensity, like he was soaking me in as well.

My heart began to pound, and I looked away from his piercing eyes, tracing my gaze down to his perfectly structured nose that reminded me of how his skin felt near mine, even for a fleeting moment. My gaze stretched further down to his lips, which I had almost tasted. The thought reminded me of why I didn’t — the pain threatening to bleed me inside out, the regret and guilt tearing me apart. The fact that I could never love without causing hurt — never hope without having to run for help and survival — never dream without putting others at risk.

“Are you done ogling me with those eyes of yours?” he stated firmly and calmly, like he was stating a fact — which broke me off from my train of thoughts and wallow in the past. I looked up at those eyes that sparkled at the sight of mine, and then I looked away at the window.

I watched the streets, houses, and trees pass by so quickly as the car drove at a convenient speed that almost made me ask if he always drove at a low speed.

Most guys I’ve known or at least seen to some levels, always preferred when their cars accelerated to its full potential.

But I guess he was different from most guys. I mean look at him—who in their right mind would stop a girl’s car in the middle of the road acting like a mother picking up her runway teenage daughter.

But who am I to even talk—I literally allowed myself to be taken, except I did argue but complied in the end. What makes me any better.

I feel his heavy gaze on me from the corner of my eyes, and I turned my face to look back at him.

But just like his glance, everything was nothing but a fleeting moment. That yet had the power to recognize itself as a memory, dug deep into my life without permission.

This was my life, and I doubt anything could change it.

“Where are we going? And what about my car? I can’t just leave it there in the middle of the street!” I demanded after few minutes of wallowing in self-pity. “And my phone as well—it’s in there!” I spoke loudly.

“Relax. Calm down. Everything—your car, your phone, and whatever’s in it—will be safe. I can guarantee you that,” he stated with pure certainty, which only made me even more frustrated. How could he sit there all calm and composed while I was here going berserk?

“What makes you so sure?” I asked, trying to know at least a bit more about him and the kind of power he seemed to possess—because he definitely didn’t look like an ordinary piece of cake.

“I had someone take care of it. Your car, your phone… everything will be brought to you when we get there,” he said without tearing his eyes off the road.

There. There. There.

“Where exactly is ‘there’? Because that’s all I keep hearing, and I can’t just go somewhere without knowing anything about it,” I protested.

“Trust me. You do,” he said, taking a quick glance at me before returning his gaze to the road.

I began to wonder what exactly he meant by that. This guy drives my curiosity to a peak that never dissolves. He’s a man full of questions that already feel answered somewhere in my heart… but I just don’t know how—or what it is.