Undercover Desires

Silent Burn

Krystal

Something inside me snapped the moment I stepped away from that car. The heat of Ryland’s stare seared into my back, but I didn’t f*****g turn around. I couldn’t.

I had to focus.

Steffen Oberoi. His name alone sent a cold chill down my spine, a reminder of why I couldn’t afford any f*****g distractions. This wasn’t just some game. This wasn’t about feelings or sparks or whatever the f**k was brewing between me and Ryland. This was about survival. About ending something that should’ve been ended a long f*****g time ago. And I wasn’t about to drag anyone else into the hell I’d already set fire to.

Especially not Ryland.

But f**k, his silence burned. That anger in his steel-grey eyes, the way his body had gone rigid, like he was barely restraining himself from calling me out on my bullshit—like he knew I was lying through my f*****g teeth. I wanted to turn around, climb back into that car, grab his face, and tell him that I f*****g felt it too. That it wasn’t just him. That when he touched me, it felt like something I had no control over. Like something inevitable.

But I couldn’t.

I kept walking.

The moment I reached the others, Travis’s sharp gaze locked onto me. His brows furrowed. “Krysie, you good?”

I forced a smirk. “Peachy.”

Travis didn’t look convinced. He never did. He was too damn perceptive for his own good. Before I could step away, his arm slung over my shoulders, pulling me close like a f*****g shield. Like he could sense the storm raging inside me and was trying to ground me before I shattered into a million useless pieces.

I let him.

We walked toward the car, and I felt Ryland before I saw him. That suffocating presence, the weight of a man who could command a room without saying a single f*****g word. But when I glanced his way, his face was a f*****g void. No anger. No heat. Just...nothing. Like I was nothing.

Fuck.

He didn’t even look at me when he started the car.

The drive back was eerily quiet. The kind of silence that felt f*****g suffocating, that made my skin itch and my lungs feel too tight. I hated it. I hated how much I gave a s**t about the tension rolling off him, about the way his fingers flexed against the steering wheel like he was holding himself back from slamming his foot through the f*****g floor.

I barely knew him. But those eyes. Those f*****g steel-grey eyes were too damn familiar.

He was pissed. And he didn’t even try to mask it. The irritation simmering beneath his cold gaze was clear as f*****g day, and yet, he didn’t say a word. He just drove, his expression carved from f*****g stone, while I sat there like a goddamn coward, pretending it didn’t bother me.

Because it was better this way.

Because Ryland was safe this way.

So I bit my tongue. I swallowed every stupid f*****g thought swirling in my head and stared out the window, watching the city blur past, trying not to feel the weight of his silence pressing down on me like a goddamn punishment.

This was what I wanted.

Wasn’t it?