Chapter 1
Hana’s POV
The rain tasted like metal.
It slid over my lips, cold and sharp, carrying away my tears only to replace them with something that felt just as bitter. I didn’t remember walking here. The highway stretched behind me in a long, empty wound in the night, the yellow lines blurring in the downpour. The world felt hollow—like the part of it that mattered had just been ripped out of me and tossed away.
"You were just a game, Hana. Seven months of entertainment. That’s all."
Seven months. Seven months of stolen moments, of kisses that felt like promises, of thinking I mattered. And then Adrian Blackwell—perfect smile, perfect suit, perfect lie—had crushed it all with a voice so calm it made me want to scream.
I sank to my knees in the middle of the slick road. My palms hit the asphalt, cold water pooling between my fingers. The sting in my skin barely registered. My heart was louder than the storm, every beat like a fist slamming against my ribs.
I wanted to hate him. God, I should hate him. But the truth? The truth was uglier. The truth was that even now, even with my chest cracked wide open, a part of me still wanted him.
Pathetic.
A sob tore out of me—raw, jagged—and the sound barely made it past my lips before the storm swallowed it whole. The sky wept harder, blurring the edges of the world until it was just me, the rain, and the emptiness he’d left behind.
I curled forward, clutching my arms around myself, rocking slightly like maybe movement would keep me from falling apart entirely. My breath came in short bursts, fogging in the night air. I couldn’t feel my legs anymore, but I didn’t care.
If a car came, maybe it wouldn’t stop. Maybe I didn’t want it to.
The highway was silent except for the hiss of the rain.
The rain was relentless, cold needles against my skin, but I barely felt it over the pounding in my head. My legs had gone numb from sitting in the middle of the road, my knees pulled to my chest, hair plastered to my face like a tragic wet dog meme. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew I looked ridiculous — somewhere further back, I didn’t care.
I didn’t even hear the motorcycle until its headlights cut through the rain like a blade. The deep growl of the engine was too smooth to belong to some random street punk; it was the kind of sound that screamed money and trouble.
I should have moved.
I didn’t.
The bike slowed, stopped just feet from me. The rain hissed off its chrome, and the rider swung a leg over, the black leather of his jacket gleaming wet. He pulled off his helmet, and—oh.
Tall. Broad-shouldered. Hair black as midnight, dripping water down a sharp, arrogant face. Eyes that didn’t bother hiding the fact that they were dissecting me like I was a strange bug.
“You have a death wish,” he said flatly.
I sniffed. “Good evening to you too, stranger.”
He stepped closer, boots splashing in a puddle, and crouched so we were eye level. “I’m serious. Sitting in the middle of the road at night, in the rain? That’s not just stupid—it’s creative stupid.”
“Wow, thanks. I’ll put that on my résumé.”
One dark brow lifted. “Cute. Is this your way of flirting or are you just naturally mouthy?”
“Both,” I said, hugging my knees tighter. “And you’re…what? A traffic safety officer in leather?”
He smirked, slow and wolfish. “If I was here for safety, I’d have dragged your ass to the sidewalk already. I’m just…curious.”
“About what?”
“About why a girl who clearly doesn’t have a spine made of glass is sitting out here like she’s auditioning for a tragedy.”
I stared at him. “Do you…always talk like you’re trying to provoke someone?”
He shrugged. “Keeps things interesting.”
“Well, congratulations, I’m not interested,” I muttered, turning my face away.
I felt him lean in, close enough for the rain on his jacket to drip onto my jeans. “That’s a problem,” he said.
I glanced back. “Why?”
“Because I don’t like being ignored.” His eyes locked on mine, and there was nothing soft in them—no pity, no concern. Just an unapologetic hunger for something to do, someone to spar with.
I snorted, trying to ignore the strange knot in my stomach. “What are you gonna do? Throw me over your shoulder and cart me off like some caveman?”
His mouth curved into something dangerous. “Don’t tempt me.”
I stood up abruptly, brushing wet gravel off my palms. “Well, thank you for the…public service announcement, mystery man. I’ll just—”
Before I could finish, his hand shot out, not grabbing hard, but blocking me with the casual authority of someone who was used to people stopping when he told them to. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“What question?”
“Why are you here.”
I rolled my eyes. “Why are you here?”
“Because I felt like it.” His voice dropped lower, colder. “That’s the difference between you and me, sweetheart. I go where I want, when I want. And I don’t sit in the rain unless I’m making someone else uncomfortable.”
“You’re doing great at that,” I muttered.
He studied me for a long moment, then stepped back just enough to give me space—like he was granting it, not like I’d earned it. “Fine. Be cryptic. Just don’t get yourself killed before I’m bored of you.”
My jaw dropped. “Excuse me?”
He put the helmet back on, his smirk barely visible under the shadow of it. “You heard me.”
The bike roared to life, and for a moment, I thought he’d just leave me standing there. But then, with infuriating arrogance, he patted the seat behind him. “You coming or not?”
“I don’t even know your name.”
“Good,” he said. “Makes it more fun.”
And with that, he waited. Like he already knew I’d choose the devil I didn’t know over the empty highway in the pouring rain.
The helmet was still in his hand, and his eyes—hidden now behind the visor—tilted toward me like he already knew I’d give in.
“Not happening,” I said.
“Then stay here and wait for a truck to flatten you,” he replied lazily over the purr of the engine. “Your call, princess.”
I glared at him, rain dripping from my lashes. “Do you always give people only two terrible options?”
“Only when I’m feeling generous.”
I groaned, snatched the helmet, and shoved it on, mumbling, “If I die, I’m haunting you.”
“Sweetheart,” his voice rolled through the helmet’s padding, low and amused, “you’d be lucky to survive long enough to haunt me.”
I climbed on, awkwardly, gripping the side handles like my life depended on it. He glanced over his shoulder, clearly unimpressed. “That’s not how you hold on.”
“I’m fine—”
Before I could finish, the bike roared forward with a savage jerk that nearly threw me off. A panicked squeak ripped from my throat, and instinct took over—I wrapped my arms around his waist, clutching him like a life raft in a hurricane.
“That’s better,” he said, smug, and then twisted the throttle.
The city blurred into streaks of wet neon as he wove through the empty highway like a predator chasing prey only he could see. Each lean into a turn made my stomach lurch, every acceleration a punch of adrenaline I hadn’t asked for.
“YOU’RE INSANE!” I shouted over the wind.
“Only on weekends,” he shouted back.
“This isn’t funny—slow down!”
“Say please.”
“What?!”
“Say please, and maybe I’ll think about it.” His voice was thick with challenge.
I gritted my teeth. “Fine! PLEASE—”
Before I could finish, he took a sharp curve so hard my nails dug into his jacket. I squeezed my eyes shut, muttering every curse I knew, but it only seemed to amuse him.
“You’re terrible at this,” he said over his shoulder.
“At what—surviving?! Yes, I’ve noticed!”
“No,” he said, voice dropping to something darker. “At letting go.”
That shut me up.
The rain hit harder, stinging my skin where it seeped past the helmet’s edge, but I was too busy hanging on, my heart thundering in my chest. He didn’t just ride fast—he rode like the rules didn’t exist, like the road belonged to him alone.
And maybe it did.
By the time he finally slowed, pulling into the glow of a streetlamp near the edge of the city, my legs were shaking.
I yanked off the helmet, hair plastered to my face. “You’re out of your damn mind.”
He took off his helmet slowly, like he had all the time in the world, and gave me a wicked smile. “You’re welcome.”
“For what?!”
“For reminding you you’re still alive.”
He didn’t wait for me to climb off before he cut the engine and let the bike idle in silence. I realized we weren’t anywhere near my street—this wasn’t even a neighborhood I recognized. The air here smelled faintly of gasoline and wet asphalt, the streetlamp above casting a pale yellow halo over us.
“This… isn’t my place,” I said, voice thin.
“Obviously,” he replied.
“Obviously?” I shot back, tugging at the helmet strap until it popped loose. “What part of ‘I want to go home’ sounded like ‘kidnap me to the middle of nowhere’?”
He smirked. “Home’s boring. You look like you could use something else.”
“I could use a blanket, tea, and a therapist,” I snapped.
He ignored me completely, leaning the bike slightly so he could watch me over his shoulder. “You cry like you mean it,” he said suddenly, his tone low, like an observation rather than an insult.
My spine stiffened. “Excuse me?”
“Most people fake it. They sniffle, wipe a tear, make a scene. You? You looked like the whole damn world had just fallen apart.”
“It’s called being human,” I muttered. “You should try it sometime.”
His grin widened, slow and wicked. “I’m not interested in trying human. I prefer watching it.”
I slid off the bike, nearly tripping because my knees were still jelly from the ride. “Well, news flash—you’re not getting an encore.”
He swung one leg over and stood, towering over me now, dripping rain and leather. “You’re not very good at gratitude, are you?”
“Oh, I’m sorry, let me rephrase—thank you so much for nearly killing me on the highway and then dumping me in the Twilight Zone. Five stars.”
That earned a short laugh from him, deep and warm, though it didn’t soften him in the slightest. “You’ve got bite. I like that.”
“Don’t.” I pointed at him like it might create distance. “Don’t ‘like’ anything about me.”
“Too late.”
The words landed heavier than they should have, and for a second, I forgot how to breathe.
I shook my head, stepping back. “Look, I don’t know who you are—”
“That’s the fun part,” he cut in.
“—and I don’t want to know. So… whatever this is? It’s over.”
His smirk curved sharper. “Princess, nothing’s over until I say it is.”
Something in his tone told me he wasn’t bluffing.
“Get back on,” he said, jerking his head toward the bike.
I folded my arms. “No. I’ll call a cab.”
He stepped closer, enough for the damp heat of his jacket to brush against my sleeve. “Cabs are for people who want to disappear quietly. You? You don’t strike me as the quiet type.”
“I am tonight,” I muttered.
“Not buying it.” His gaze swept over me like he was cataloging every tremor, every stubborn lift of my chin. “Tell you what… I’ll take you home.”
“Great, thanks,” I said quickly, moving toward the bike.
“…If you answer one question first.”
I froze. “You can’t be serious.”
“Oh, I’m dead serious.” That smirk again—slow, deliberate, like a match catching flame. “Why were you crying like someone ripped your soul out? And don’t give me some Hallmark answer. I want the truth.”
I glared at him. “You want the truth? The truth is—it’s none of your business.”
He tilted his head, clearly amused. “That’s not an answer. That’s a dodge.”
“Then take it as my answer,” I shot back.
For a moment, we just stared at each other, rain hissing on the pavement around us. Then his smile shifted, darkening. “You’ve got two options, princess. Tell me… or walk. But if you walk, you’ll find out exactly how long it takes for those fancy heels to give out on cold, wet asphalt.”
I hated that he was right. My feet were already numb. My pride, though… it was on fire.
“You’re an arrogant—”
“—bastard? I know.” He stepped aside and gestured toward the bike. “Clock’s ticking.”
I gritted my teeth and swung a leg over, my fingers digging into the seat to keep from shaking.
As soon as the engine roared to life, my heart did too—because he didn’t just ride. He flew. The world blurred, wind slashing at my cheeks, my arms instinctively locking tight around his torso.
“You’re going to kill us!” I shouted over the wind.
“Relax, princess,” he called back, his voice full of smug satisfaction. “I don’t die easy. And you’re with me.”
“That’s not comforting!”
“It’s not supposed to be.”
The rain hit harder as he leaned into a turn, the city lights slicing past us in dizzy streaks. I had my arms clamped around him like a lifeline, every muscle tight. His back was warm under my grip, but the man himself radiated something… dangerous.
“So…” His voice cut through the roar of the wind, low and deliberate. “Who was he?”
My stomach dropped. “What?”
“The one who made you look like you’d rather be dead than standing in the rain. Boyfriend? Husband? Daddy issues?” His words weren’t gentle—they were knives, meant to see if they could draw more blood.
“Not your business!” My voice cracked, betraying me.
He didn’t let up. “See, that’s what you keep saying. And yet… the way you were sitting in the middle of the road, you looked like you wanted someone to ask. Just not the wrong someone.”
I pressed my forehead against his back to hide the sting in my eyes. “You are the wrong someone.”
“Maybe,” he said, almost lazily, “but I’m the one you’re holding onto right now.”
That broke me. Just a little. My chest tightened until it hurt, and my throat burned. I hated that he could hear the hitch in my breathing even over the engine.
“Let me guess,” he went on, his tone dark and edged with something feral. “He made you think you mattered… then told you you didn’t?”
I bit my lip hard, but the tears still came. Silent. Hot. Stupid.
“Thought so,” he murmured, leaning into another turn, the speed making my stomach lurch. “Men like that should learn one thing—if you break something, you better hope it doesn’t find its way into the wrong hands after.”
I didn’t know if it was a warning or a threat, but the way he said it made a shiver rip down my spine.
We slowed finally, pulling up not in front of my building, but two blocks away.
“This isn’t my place,” I said, wiping my face quickly.
“I know.” He cut the engine, looking over his shoulder at me with a slow, taunting grin. “If you want the last part of the ride, you’ll have to answer one more question.”
“What now?” I snapped.
“Your name.”
I hesitated, clutching my bag tighter. “…Hana.”
He let the syllables roll in his mouth like he was testing them for flavor. “Hana. Pretty. Doesn’t suit the mess I found on the road, though.”
“Go to hell,” I muttered, sliding off the bike.
He laughed—a deep, unbothered sound. “Already there, princess. But you just made it more interesting.”
And with that, he revved the engine and was gone, leaving me in the wet dark with my heart still racing.
The rain had slowed to a cold drizzle by the time I reached my street. My hair clung to my cheeks, my clothes heavy with water, and my shoes squelched with every step.
Each footfall seemed to echo with his words.
I was just playing with you.
I could still see Adrian Blackwell’s face when he’d said it—smooth, perfect, untouched by any flicker of guilt. Those grey eyes had looked through me like I was an object he’d already tired of.
Seven months. Seven months of stolen glances, teasing touches, long drives where he’d play my favorite songs but never sing along. Seven months of me trying to name what we were while he kept it just out of reach, dangling like a cruel game.
And I’d fallen for it. For him.
I hugged myself tighter, shivering. It wasn’t just the words—it was the way he’d said them, slow and deliberate, as though crushing me was a calculated move he’d been waiting to make.
My front door came into view, the faint warm light from the window blurring in my wet vision. I wanted to fall into my bed and never wake up.
But my mind wouldn’t let me.
Adrian wasn’t like the boys from my small, ordinary world. He was everything dangerous and magnetic—dressed in the skin of a gentleman, hiding a predator underneath. And I’d been stupid enough to believe the sheep’s clothing was real.
The worst part? Even now, under the weight of heartbreak, some pathetic part of me missed him.
I slipped inside my tiny apartment, the familiar creak of the floorboards greeting me. Water dripped from my hair onto the old rug. I set my bag down and leaned against the door, my chest tight, my thoughts tangled between the man who had shattered me…
…and the stranger on the bike whose presence still clung to my skin.
Rian—no, I didn’t know his name yet—but his eyes, his voice, his reckless speed… they’d left a different kind of bruise.
I shut my eyes, forcing myself to push him out of my head.
Right now, I only had space for one monster. And Adrian Blackwell had already claimed that throne.
