Broken by him, bound to him

Chapter 11: Shadows between brothers

Ryan stormed into the house, hair damp, clothes clinging to him as if he’d walked miles in the pouring rain. Inside the villa, the air was warm and golden, the lanterns Anora had lit earlier casting a soft glow over the living room. She liked to make the house feel cozy on rainy nights—her little ritual against the storms outside. The fire crackled, and the warmth seemed to embrace the room, but Ryan carried the storm in with him.

Cain sat casually on the leather couch by the fire, paper in hand, not even lifting his eyes to acknowledge his cousin's entrance. Aydin was at the dining table, eyes wide with interest. He had been waiting for this moment—the day Cain would finally break the promise he’d made to their father never to fight again. A promise Cain had, on the surface, kept. Or so they thought. None of them knew the truth of his secret endeavors. And maybe, just maybe, if Ryan pushed hard enough, Cain would finally spill everything—about his past with Naya, or the child Aydin half-suspected existed. He hadn’t confirmed it yet, but he was certain Cain was hiding more than he let on.

Ryan lingered at the doorway, dripping onto the floor, chest heaving with quiet rage. His voice, when he finally spoke, was measured, restrained.

“Cain. What were you doing giving Naya your jacket, knowing very well she was here with me?”

Cain folded the paper carefully, laid it aside, and finally turned to face him. His eyes glinted with a mocking calm.

“The girl was shaking when I found her. Was I supposed to let her freeze just because she’s with—Ryan?” He drew invisible quotation marks in the air around Ryan’s name, his tone dripping sarcasm.

Ryan’s jaw tightened, anger sparking quietly inside him like dry wood catching fire.

“Cain,” he warned, voice low. “Don’t push me. You’ll stay away from that girl.”

Cain leaned back, smiling, lowering his voice into a sharp whisper.

“Keep it down. Barking like that, you’ll wake Mom.” Then, after a pause, his smile sharpened. “And what if I don’t stay away from her, Ryan? What will you do about it?”

He rose slowly, his height and presence filling the space like a wrecking ball ready to swing. His calmness wasn’t peace—it was provocation. He wanted Ryan to let it out, wanted him to finally spit out all those buried words, the accusations he’d only ever hinted at in quiet jabs. Cain’s arms folded across his broad chest, muscles taut, smile cold and daring.

“Feeling lucky tonight, huh? Gonna throw a punch, maybe? Or do you plan to talk me unconscious?”

Ryan’s fists clenched at his sides. Fury burned through him, white-hot, but he fought to contain it. He had always been the reasonable one—the peacekeeper, even back when they were young. He turned as if to walk away, to bury it like he always did. But then Cain muttered, voice low and cutting:

“I thought so.”

Ryan spun back around, rage snapping. He charged, words exploding out of him.

“You know, I’m sick of your madness, Cain! And I will not let you spread your poison to Naya. I don’t even know why you hired her as your assistant, but I intend to change that!”

Cain tilted his head, voice still steady, dangerous in its quietness.

“And how do you intend to achieve that?”

“This isn’t just about Naya, and you know it,” Ryan fired back. His voice trembled with the fury he’d held for years.

Cain’s smile widened, cruel and baiting. “Then why don’t you say it? Quit acting like a little girl and finally say what you’ve been dying to scream at me all these years.”

Ryan’s chest heaved. His restraint finally shattered.

“You wanted to kill him!”

The words hung in the room like a gunshot. Aydin froze, eyes glued to Cain, afraid to even blink lest he miss this moment.

“You wanted to kill Latif. That’s why you didn’t stop, even when you saw him struggling. You kept fighting, until he couldn’t breathe. You wanted him dead!”

For the first time, Cain stilled. He hadn’t expected Ryan to voice it so plainly. He knew Ryan hated him for Latif’s death, but to accuse him of wanting it… that cut deeper than he’d anticipated. Still, he didn’t let it show. The hurt, the regret—buried, masked.

“Is that why you’ve been tiptoeing around me all these years?” Cain asked, his voice so low Aydin almost missed it. “Afraid you’ll be next?”

Ryan had half-expected remorse, even the faintest glimmer of guilt. Instead, Cain’s dark, unblinking stare poured into him like ice water. Cold. Unforgiving. Deadly.

For years, Ryan had clung to the hope that Cain wasn’t the monster he feared. He’d convinced himself that there was still light in him. But standing before him now, watching the void in his cousin's eyes, Ryan saw the truth he had denied.

The man before him was the devil.

Ryan stepped back, breath shallow, seeking space from the suffocating darkness pressing off Cain.

Aydin inched closer, silent glee flickering in his eyes. His brother’s restraint was cracking, and he prayed for the explosion—the moment Cain finally unleashed and proved to them all who he really was.

“You are a monster,” Ryan spat, voice trembling but firm. “Naya is mine. Stay away from her. If she knew who you really were—what you’ve done—she wouldn’t even let you close to her, let alone take your jacket.”

Cain’s jaw twitched, though his face remained unreadable. Ryan’s words hit deeper than he wanted to admit. Naya didn’t know about his past. She didn’t know about the darkness he carried, the literal bones in his closet. He had wanted her to see him as ordinary, as the man he pretended to be, not the hurricane he truly was.

Ryan pressed harder, voice rising with courage he didn’t know he had.

“She doesn’t know what you look like when you’re angry. She’s never seen you in full rage, out for blood. That darkness you’ve hidden—it’s going to break free. And I hope she’s there when it does. I hope everyone is there, so they can finally see you for what you are—the animal behind all that fake charm. The beast no one can tame.”

Cain’s calm façade wavered for the briefest second. He hated hearing Naya’s name spill from Ryan’s lips, hated that Ryan might be right. What if she saw him that way too? What if she recoiled like the rest of them? He didn’t want to think about it. Not now. Not ever.

Cain stepped forward, shadow looming, hand twitching as though he might seize Ryan by the throat and end it right there—when a voice cut through the storm.

“Cain!”

Anora stood at the edge of the room in her white silk nightgown, hair pulled back, face pale with fear. Her voice trembled as she spoke, though she tried to sound commanding.

“You promised.”

Cain’s gaze flickered toward her, cold and unreadable. Ryan froze too, stuck between pride and fear, unwilling to move yet too terrified to strike first.

“You promised your father and me you’d never fight again,” Anora said, summoning all her courage. “So you will let your brother go, and you will walk away.”

Her heart thundered. Sometimes she wondered if Cain was truly her son, or some punishment sent by the gods. Ryan felt like her real child—gentle, soft, present. Cain only ever scared her.

For a long, unbearable moment, Cain stared at Ryan. Then, without a word, he turned, picked up his paper, and walked out into the rain.

Anora rushed to Ryan, wrapping her arms around him. He held her back, warmth and relief flooding her.

“You shouldn’t provoke him,” she whispered, pulling back to hold his face in her hands. “You know he has a temper. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Mother,” Ryan breathed, steadying himself. He held her hands. “He doesn’t scare me.”

“Oh, my sweet child,” Anora said with a small, bitter smile. “He scares all of us. There is no shame in admitting it.”

She left him with those words, retreating to her room, whispering silent prayers for her husband to return soon. She feared Cain was slipping back into his old self—and that thought alone terrified her.

At the dining table, Aydin sneered. They hadn’t even noticed him. Their sweet little mother-and-son moment sickened him. Rising, he muttered under his breath as he headed upstairs, “Might as well fix him a bottle and change his diaper while you’re at it.”

Back in her apartment, Naya sat curled on her balcony chair, watching the rain streak the city. It was late, far too late, but sleep refused to come. Every time she closed her eyes, the same question circled in her mind:

What happened between Cain and Ryan that was so bad they couldn’t stand each other?

Normally she might have brushed it aside, but now she was caught between them—and she needed to know.

She went to her room, grabbed her phone, and sank onto the couch. Scrolling through her contacts, she found Cain’s number. He’d given it to her “for work,” but really so she’d always have a way to reach him. She had never given him hers.

So when she finally texted him, Cain was caught off guard.

He had just returned to his penthouse, changed clothes, and gone to the building’s 24-hour gym. Rage simmered in him—not from Ryan’s words, but from Ryan’s persistence in pursuing Naya. Ryan didn’t know the truth, of course, but Cain still despised the thought.

The accusations about Latif? He had heard them all before. He had seen them written on his family’s faces, in the way they tiptoed around him as though waiting for him to snap. It was one of the reasons he stayed away from the villa. Why bother proving them wrong when it was easier to live as the monster they already believed him to be?

But would Naya see him that way too—if she knew?

She had never seen him at his worst. In school, he had been the peacekeeper, the one who walked away from fights, the one who refused the boxing team despite his talent. He had promised his father: no violence, not even in sport. He had joined Naya in teaching kids how to heal instead of fight. That was the Cain she knew, the Cain she had loved.

But that wasn’t his true self. His true self was dark, unhinged, unpredictable. He was controlling, dominating, rough—a storm contained. His family knew it. He knew it. But Naya? She didn’t.

Cain’s fists hammered into the punching bag, each strike heavier than the last. He thought about telling her, about confessing everything. He even convinced himself he might. He was searching for the words when his phone buzzed in his jacket.

He pulled off his gloves, swiped open the screen. An unknown number. But the message made him smile.

Hey, so what really happened between you and Ryan?

Cain smirked, slipping the phone back into his jacket after saving her number.

“It’s almost like you can read my thoughts,” he murmured aloud, before striking the bag again.