dylan

The sun loved the moon so much that he died every night to let her breathe, and in return, she reflected his love.

Love is made through many sacrifices, including letting go of yourself so your partner can thrive. This wasn't always my ideology, but once when I saw her on the staircase, her wide-open eyes shining with shock and a little bit of fear behind them that disappeared in milliseconds, I changed. She had the beginnings of a smile hidden in that small expression, almost smiling or wanting to say something. For a fraction of a second, I wished she had smiled or come running into my arms. My knees felt weak. I would have burned down my empire, my business, and all the money I had just to be with that girl standing in front of me, because why not?

She is all I need.

When our eyes met, I remember thinking this is what it's like to be struck by lightning, knowing I never want to be untouched by her again.

She looked so beautiful. She looked so natural, with her brown hair and hazel eyes holding my gaze, her rosy cheeks, and her pink lips.

She looked way better than I had imagined. Her real, natural self is so attractive. She is no longer that confused, nerdy assistant, Joane.

She is now ruthless and confident, though low-key scared inside. Like a small kitten who needs love and affection, she is hurt so deeply that if you step forward to hold her, she will flinch, thinking you will hurt her. But she keeps this hidden, displaying a facade of fearlessness. She knows that she is a skilled assassin, has killed men, and could kill more if she wanted to. It's just the memories of slavery and prostitution that get in her head a lot.

I remember when I saw her hugging Miles after that race, her eyes...

I have more information on her now. Her parents had to pay up Marcs, but they couldn't. He killed them in return and took her away.

I can't imagine the hell she has been through, and that too on the same day I had been a jerk to her. All the pain she had been through these years as a prostitute, as a slave, and all the scars that were on her body. She didn't deserve this; no girl deserves this.

I will burn down Orgestsev's empire and every one of Marc's prostitution centers. And I won't stop until every last one in the state is reduced to ashes. They will face my wrath.

I want to protect her from all of her fears; just stand with her or stand closely as she does whatever she wants. Just to see her happy, just like she was in high school. I am ready to burn this fucking world for her. I'll drench all the trees and roads in gasoline and hand her the matchstick to light it all on fire if she wants to.

I never thought if I would ever have a weakness, it would be damn Ruth Danan. Never in a million years did I think a woman could make my heart race and make it ache as I thought of her.

My hands were sweating so much when I was reading her files—all the stuff she had been through, how many men she had to spend the night with, and how many hurt her physically. That's when I knew I wanted to protect her, love her, and shower her with all the love I could give her.

This wasn't just an apology for my mistake. I want her; I need her like we need oxygen to survive. I need Ruth in my arms, in my hold, for me to breathe, and lastly, to just calm down my racing heart.

My insomnia kept me awake, and her face kept flashing in front of my eyes—the night I messed her up, the night I saw her as an assistant, and now her in that little dress. God, she is so adorable, hot, pretty, and just simply beautiful.

Just a few minutes ago, instead of simply bidding her goodnight and walking away, I should have taken her hand gently, looked into her eyes with understanding, and given her a tender kiss on her forehead. As I stood there, I could sense the discomfort and anger brewing beneath the surface, reflected in the tense lines of her face and the guarded look in her eyes. My heart ached knowing that I had caused her distress, and a powerful urge to comfort her washed over me.

I desired to ease her suffering and reassure her that I wanted her by my side and was genuinely concerned about her welfare. At that instant, I yearned to have taken a more significant action than simply bidding goodnight. I longed to express my love and support in a manner that words frequently fall short of. A gentle kiss on her forehead, a modest gesture, could have eloquently conveyed my fondness and aspiration to shield her from any pain. When I think about it, I see that what I do carries more weight than what I say. I believe she will see how I'm trying to make our relationship better. The place might not feel right to her now, but over time, she will feel understood and cared for here. It won't happen fast, but I am committed. Bit by bit, with steady work and real care, I will earn back her love. Every day, I will prove how much she matters to me. I rest my head on the bed and think about the moments I had with her.

I rest my head on the headboard and let my thoughts carry me wherever they want to take me. I closed my eyes for a while and slowly fell asleep, finding solace at last when my brain played a memory of her smiling and giggling.

"I'll bring back that smile, Ruth. I'll make the pain go away. Nothing will ever hurt you again, my love."

NEXT DAY

By the time I fell asleep, the sun had risen and my alarm had sounded. I looked over and noticed that it was 5:45 a.m. I grumbled slightly, got out of bed, and stretched my arms. I took my phone and glanced through it as I headed to the bathroom, then set it on the counter as I freshened up. Just as I was leaving the restroom, the maid knocked on the door and entered after I instructed her to. She set my morning coffee on my nightstand while I focused on my phone.

I started sipping it slowly and started reading texts from Chase about Marcs and his prostitution company. An additional 40 girls were added to his prostitution centre between the ages of 6 and 27.

I scoffed in disgust as I read the numbers and the age ranges.

I grabbed the coffee cup and started sipping it slowly as I further read the information. After finishing my coffee, I changed into a better formal outfit, fixed my hair, and headed downstairs to the dining hall. I mostly don't care much about breakfast, but I'd like to have it with Ruth and also to make sure she eats.

She is kind of arrogant, so I know she will refuse to eat anything cooked on the grounds of this house because she will think it's poisoned or whatever comes into her tiny little brain. I know she will simply refuse, so I guess if I go down, she will come. Well, that is what I hope for. If she doesn't, I have two reactions: either I'll be like, fine, starve, but I know I can't be like that for her, so I'll just probably go to her and ask her to come downstairs.

I went downstairs with my laptop in my hand and sat down at the head of the table. I opened my laptop and started going through my emails. The maids started setting up the table, and I told them to inform Ruth to come down for breakfast, to which one readily went upstairs to inform Ruth.

The maid came down after 20 minutes and said, "Sir, Miss Danan said she can't come downstairs because it's too early for breakfast and she doesn't feel like getting up right now."

Considerate Ruth, I kept my eyes on the laptop and said, "You can tell her that she doesn't have any options. She is staying here, which means she has to obey the house rules as well. Also, mention that she has work that is pending. She has about 45 minutes to come downstairs," I stated sharply yet calmly.

She hurried upstairs and then, after some time, came down and reported, "Sir, Miss Danan is coming." She spoke and then went to the kitchen.

I smirked internally. God, what a scared little kitten she is. I kept working and waited for her. God, the time moved so slowly. Each second was passing by so slowly. I felt my hand clenching really tight, and the veins were popping out. Then I just realised it had only been 10 minutes and I needed to be more patient.

I had no idea how bad and impatient I could feel while waiting for a girl. The expectation causes worry, which intensifies with each passing instant. It's as if time slows down, causing every second to stretch out indefinitely. The wait consumes my thoughts, and I feel stuck in a never-ending cycle of anxious expectations.

After what felt like an eternity, I heard a soft voice. "Morning," she said, and she sat next to me on the chair, and we made soft yet quick eye contact. Her hair was down in soft waves, and her eyes looked a little sleepy, but she still managed to look effortless. Her soft, rosy lips were coated with a gloss that made them look more plump, and now I am imagining different ways I could simply kiss her right now. Her eyes and hair look so much more attractive than they did last night.

Fuck, she looks so graceful.

"Morning, slept okay?" I asked, looking back at the screen of my laptop as I completed the email I was writing. My eyes shifted from the laptop to her to check for any discomfort she might have had.

She looked at me; her soft doe eyes from last night had turned into annoyed siren eyes. God, she is hot, even when pissed. I know she hated waking up at 7 just to come downstairs, especially because I called her. My soon-to-be pretty baby girl.

"Who the hell wakes up at 7 for breakfast, and what is the work that I have to do this early in the morning? I am working for you; I am certainly not your slave," she spat out, getting annoyed.

I kept my face calm and added, "I never said you were, but if you want to be my slave, I won't resist the thought, Danan." She looked at me blankly, slightly shocked, and coughed a little. Her cheeks blushed a little, and I caught that little spark in her eyes.

"No, I am fine being trapped where I already am," she said, looking down, her eyes dimming at the sentence. I turned off my laptop and looked at her. "You won't be trapped for long, Danan; trust me," I assured her.

"Yeah, Fynder, trusting you was the only thing I wished for," she scoffed, although there was frustration mixed in it. I understand all of this, and I'll give her time to adjust.

The maids started to serve breakfast, and we began eating. The rest of the time we were quiet; we didn't talk, just ate, until Ruth broke the silence. "What is the next step now? I'll start giving out information to Marcs tomorrow. Have you thought of a plan?" She asked hesitantly.

"Yes, I have thought about it, but for now, in 4 hours from now, you will be joining me for a charity event that I planned to attend today," I stated.

"What? No, I didn't agree on being your date to some charity event. I won't do that. I only agreed to work-related stuff, Dylan. Stick to your words," she said frantically.

"Don't get too excited, Ruth. It is work-related. I have a source there who collected important information on Dustin, so you have to accompany me whether you like it or not," I said in a demanding, soft tone.

"Okay, I guess I don't have many choices left then," she said and got up, picked up her dishes, and started walking away, but I stopped her and asked, "What are you doing?"

"Uh, picking up my dishes, what the hell do you see, Dylan?" she muttered.

"I see that, but put them down. The maids will do it," I told her.

"It's fine. It's not a huge deal; I'm just walking a few steps," she said, going to the kitchen and coming back shortly after.

"Alright, so I'll be heading back to my place to grab a few things. That's okay, right?" She asked softly.

"What do you need to pick up?" I inquired, feeling nice that she was talking in a softer tone now.

"Well, I need my wigs. I don't go out in public with my real face and hair," she said, feeling worried about the situation.

"There is no need for that. You look far more beautiful naturally than any of your disguises," I said, smiling a bit.

"I'm guessing you checked each one of them," she said, and her gaze softened.

"Well, I did, so yeah, stay like this." I smiled and stood up. "I have to make some calls, but let me know if you need anything, okay?" I stated.

"Alright, thanks," she replied.