Broken by him, bound to him

Chapter 13: Veiled daggers

Cain walked into Hassan’s office with the kind of calm that was so smooth, so deliberate, even Hassan didn’t suspect anything at first. He sat down across from him without a word, studying him quietly, eyes sharp and unwavering, like a predator circling prey. He leaned back in his chair, casual on the outside, but every inch of his stillness carried weight.

Hassan’s office was a small, modern home study, cloaked in mahogany hues. Certificates of achievement lined the walls, laminated and framed, trophies of a life spent climbing ladders and chasing recognition. A wide, thick desk dominated the space, set in front of the only window, which let in barely enough light. Behind it sat a tacky black chair, and in front of it, two guest seats. At the far wall, shelves of books gave the illusion of intellect, though most spines looked untouched.

The silence stretched until it became uncomfortable. Hassan’s nervous smile faltered as he tried to read Cain’s expression. Failing, he cleared his throat and forced his voice steady.

“Did your father send you about the business proposal, my son?” He straightened in his chair, reminding himself this was his den.

“No,” Cain said flatly, his eyes never leaving him.

“Then why are you here?” Hassan asked, though deep down he already knew. His gut twisted—Naya.

Cain leaned forward, resting one arm on the desk. His voice was calm, but each word was sharpened to a blade.

“She is not up for grabs, Hassan. She is a person—with a life, dreams, feelings, and the right to choose. You can’t just claim her because her father is too much of a coward to protect his own.”

On the surface, Cain’s face remained unreadable, smooth and controlled. But inside him, fury roared like a storm barely contained. He was a caged beast that had lost all patience, and though his calm exterior concealed it, the hurricane churned behind his eyes. It was one of Cain’s greatest strengths—the way he could mask anything, turn his emotions into a weapon by giving you only what he wanted you to see. Yet it was also his weakness. In moments when grief or regret or fear were called for, he showed nothing. Only emptiness, like nothing in the world could reach him.

And still, Naya had unraveled him with nothing more than her existence.

Hassan mistook Cain’s restraint for softness. It gave him courage—too much courage. He lifted his cold cup of coffee and asked, “What is it to you?”

Cain’s lips curved in a humorless smile. “Think of me as her fairy godmother,” he said with biting sarcasm. “I swooped in to save the day after the people who should’ve protected her failed miserably.”

And he meant it. Naya was under his protection now. Anyone who wanted her would have to bleed through him first.

Hassan laughed mockingly, as if Cain’s words were a joke. Cain chuckled with him, the sound low and dark, like a wolf humoring its prey.

“You’re out of your depth, boy,” Hassan sneered. “Step aside and let this one go.” He sipped his cold coffee again, arrogance rolling off him.

The change in Cain was immediate. The air shifted, heavy and cold. His expression turned from casual calm to something darker—something scary. The warmth in the room vanished. Hassan shivered despite himself, goosebumps prickling his skin.

Without a word, Cain drew a gun from the back of his trousers. He placed it on the desk slowly, deliberately. The metallic clink echoed like thunder in the quiet room.

Hassan’s blood ran cold. He froze in his chair, his eyes wide, the hairs on his arms standing on end. He knew Cain’s history—how close he had come to prison after killing Latif, how he had run the illegal boxing pit. Hassan himself had been one of the men who’d helped keep him out of jail. He knew exactly what Cain was capable of.

But Naya… Naya was a prize he had waited for too long. Letting her go wasn’t something he intended.

“O-okay, son. We don’t need to take it there,” Hassan stammered, his voice shaking now. “Put the gun away.”

Cain said nothing. He leaned back again, the weight of silence pressing down like a storm about to break. In his mind, he toyed with the thought of pulling the trigger, of ending this pathetic man with a single bullet. But then he thought of Naya. She had just come back into his life. He would not risk prison. Not now. Not when she needed him.

“What’s your obsession with your brother’s girl anyway?” Hassan asked, hands raised slightly, surrender written across his face.

Cain picked the gun up, then deliberately set it back down. His voice was quiet, lethal.

“That’s none of your business. And she is the reason you’re still breathing. Me, on my own? I’ve got nothing to lose. But with her? I have everything to lose.”

Cain stood, his shadow falling over Hassan like a threat.

“I won’t leave her unprotected again. I’ll find another way to bring you down. Believe me, I’ve had my doubts about you for a long time—and I’ll bury you legally if I have to. That’s a promise. In the meantime, if you so much as glance in Naya’s direction, I’ll come back here when you least expect it. And then, Hassan, I’ll carve out your kneecaps and burn this sorry excuse of a firm to the ground.”

Cain’s eyes bore into his before he turned and left, the door slamming behind him.

That afternoon, Naya was working quietly in her office, typing as though the world wasn’t spiraling out of her control. A knock sounded at her door.

“Come in,” she said.

Rachel walked in, perfume preceding her, elegant and poised like she owned the room. She sank gracefully into the chair opposite Naya.

“Hi, Rachel, right?” Naya said warmly, extending her hand.

Rachel gave a delicate shake, her grip perfunctory, her expression already dripping with superiority.

“Yes. I’m Rachel—Cain’s sister. You’ve heard of me?” She flipped her hair stylishly from her face, as if she were posing for a magazine cover.

“Yes, I’ve heard of you. In fact, we’ve already met,” Naya replied, her voice polite but laced with subtle sarcasm.

“Ah, yes. With Lisa at reception.” Rachel crossed her legs smoothly, her luminous green shorts catching the light. “I hear you’re quite the subject in my household these days.” Her tone carried disdain, every syllable sharpened to a blade.

Naya held her smile. She reminded herself of high school—how the only way to deal with spoiled, entitled girls was to starve them of reaction.

“I’m afraid I don’t quite understand you,” she said, brow furrowing with practiced innocence.

“My brothers almost fought Saturday night because of you,” Rachel spat. “Cain hasn’t fought in years. And Ryan—Ryan is the most peaceful man I know. Until you.”

Naya’s eyes widened slightly. She had known things were tense, but she hadn’t realized it was that bad.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly, sincerely. “That was never my intention.”

Rachel cut her off with a sharp, mocking laugh. “Cut the act. I know your type. You walk in with your sweet, innocent face, all caring and kind. But underneath? It’s all for attention. You don’t love Ryan. You’re stringing him along. What you really want is Cain. But let me tell you something—” She leaned forward, eyes glittering. “You’re too late. The love of his life is moving back into town. Once she’s here, Cain won’t even see you. Know your place.”

Naya opened her mouth, but Rachel silenced her with a raised hand right in her face, as if she were dismissing a servant. Then she stood, snatched up her purse, adjusted her green shorts and heels, and strutted toward the door. Her hips swayed with practiced arrogance.

She slammed the door behind her, the sound echoing like a final word.

Later that night, Naya recounted the scene to Wendy, and the two of them laughed until their stomachs hurt, imitating Rachel’s dramatics. Rachel had been the perfect cliché of every female rival from old romantic movies. Naya wasn’t offended—if anything, she was entertained.

But when she lay in bed alone, the laughter faded into questions.

Cain hadn’t fought in years… what did that even mean? How had he killed Latif, really? Accident or not? Why did people flinch at his presence, why did his name carry such weight? There was so much she didn’t know about Cain, and she could feel that most of it wasn’t good.

Yet the way he had stood up for her against Hassan that morning had stirred something deep inside her. No one had ever protected her before—not her parents, not anyone. She had always learned to protect herself, or run when she couldn’t. But Cain—Cain, who had been the first to break down the walls she built around her heart, reached down and took it in his hands and then crushed it, him who had taught her love and taught her about pain —was now back, fighting her monsters.

And God, she wished she wasn’t still drawn to him, like a moth helpless to the flame.

Her phone buzzed. A message from Cain.

“How was your day?”

“It was great. I met your sister,” she replied. Then added: “You never told me you had a sister. In fact, you’ve never told me a lot of things.”

“I was trying to be a different person back then,” he answered. “At first it was for my father. But eventually, it was for you.”

Naya set the phone down, exhaling, then picked it back up.

“What about what you wanted?”

“I’ve never had a problem with who I am,” Cain wrote. “But it always bothered those around me.”

“And you thought it would bother me too?”

“Yes.”

The words sank into her chest. He had assumed she wouldn’t love him for who he really was. And yet, she had—without even knowing him.

“I need you to let me back in, my love,” he wrote. “I need this thing with Ryan to stop. I need you. I want to come home to you in the evening and wake up every morning to your beautiful face beside me.”

Naya smiled faintly, but inside her chest, pain tore open like a wound. Cain had no idea what their love had cost her. No idea of the burden she carried. No idea what she had lost. She wanted to tell him—God, she wanted to—but the words stuck in her throat.

“Of course you do,” she typed instead. Then, like a whisper from her soul: “So open up my scars. Make me feel once more.”

His reply came: “Does it make it all right that I know I’m wrong? For I was never right—and yet, in you, I am lost.”

Tears filled her eyes. He was everything—her pain, her ruin, her home.

“Good night, Cain,” she whispered into the phone.

“Good night, my love.” he replied, as she slowly dozed off falling into light, but peaceful sleep.