THE DARK COVENANT

CHAPTER 8- THE SCARS WE HIDE

The rain had finally stopped.

The warehouse fell into an uneasy silence. Only the occasional drip of water from the broken roof disturbed the stillness.

Rayyan finished cleaning Emmeer's wound before throwing the bloodstained gauze into a metal bin.

"You're lucky."

"The bullet only grazed your arm."

Emmeer buttoned his black shirt without a word.

His face remained expressionless, as if pain no longer meant anything to him.

Aimaara watched him quietly.

She couldn't understand him.

Minutes ago, he had walked straight into a sniper's line of fire as though his own life had no value.

That thought unsettled her.

Rayyan broke the silence.

"I'll check the perimeter."

Before leaving, he glanced at Aimaara.

"Make sure he rests."

She frowned.

"Will he actually listen?"

Rayyan laughed.

"No."

"But maybe..." He glanced at Emmeer. "...he'll listen to you."

The steel door closed behind him.

Leaving only the two of them.

An awkward silence settled between them.

Aimaara folded the bloodstained scarf she had torn earlier.

"I'm sorry."

Emmeer looked up.

"For what?"

"For getting you hurt."

"You didn't."

"I did."

She lowered her gaze.

"If I hadn't gone to the bookstore..."

"If I hadn't looked for answers..."

"You wouldn't have been shot."

Emmeer slowly shook his head.

"No."

"You would've gone anyway."

She looked confused.

"What?"

"The moment your father left you that key..." His voice was calm. "...your path was already chosen."

His words felt heavier than the silence surrounding them.

Aimaara lowered her gaze.

You get used to loneliness.

Those words echoed inside her mind.

How could someone ever get used to being alone?

Loneliness wasn't something people should adapt to. It was something that slowly destroyed them from the inside.

She knew.

Because she had spent fifteen years waiting for someone who never came home.

Every birthday.

Every Eid.

Every family gathering.

She would secretly look at the front door, hoping her father would walk in with a smile and say,

"Daddy's home, princess."

But the door had remained closed.

Every single time.

Her heart tightened.

Perhaps...

Perhaps she understood Emmeer more than she wanted to admit.

Silence settled between them again.

Not awkward.

Not uncomfortable.

Just quiet.

The kind of silence that somehow felt safe.

Aimaara glanced sideways.

Emmeer was still staring at the city lights through the cracked warehouse window.

His expression was unreadable.

Yet somehow, she could almost hear the pain he refused to speak aloud.

What happened to you, Emmeer?

How many people did you lose?

How many nights did you spend alone?

The questions filled her mind.

But she couldn't ask.

Not yet.

A cold breeze slipped through the broken window.

Without thinking, Aimaara wrapped her arms around herself.

Emmeer noticed immediately.

He quietly removed his black coat.

"You'll catch a cold."

Before she could refuse, he gently draped it over her shoulders.

The coat was slightly oversized. It carried the faint scent of cedarwood and rain.

Aimaara instinctively held the lapels closer.

"It'll make your wound worse."

"I'm fine."

She frowned.

"You keep saying that."

"Because it's true."

"No."

She looked directly into his eyes.

"It's because you've convinced yourself that pain doesn't matter."

Those words struck deeper than she realised.

Emmeer lowered his gaze.

For years, pain had simply become another part of living.

Physical.

Emotional.

It no longer made a difference.

Or so he thought.

Aimaara slowly stepped closer.

"There."

She pointed at the fresh bandage around his arm.

"It's bleeding again."

He looked down.

A small patch of crimson had already soaked through the white bandage.

He hadn't even noticed.

Or perhaps...

He simply didn't care.

She sighed.

"Sit."

"I'm alright."

"Emmeer."

Her tone became firmer.

"Please."

He looked at her for several seconds.

Then, without another word, he sat.

Aimaara opened Rayyan's first-aid kit.

She carefully removed the old bandage.

The dried blood made her heart ache.

"This must've hurt."

"It didn't."

She raised an eyebrow.

"You're a terrible liar."

For the first time, a quiet chuckle escaped him.

"So I've been told."

She smiled without looking up.

"Good."

"At least we agree on something."

As she cleaned the wound, Emmeer watched her.

She was incredibly gentle.

Almost afraid of hurting him.

No one had treated him like this in years.

Most people only saw the feared Dark Prince.

The ruthless man.

The killer.

The CEO.

But Aimaara...

She looked at him as though he were simply a man who had been hurt.

Nothing more.

Nothing less.

Something inside his chest tightened unexpectedly.

Don't.

He silently warned himself.

She's under your protection.

Nothing else.

Yet his eyes refused to leave her.

She finished wrapping the new bandage before looking up.

"There."

"Much better."

Only then did she realise how close they were.

She could see every shade of grey in his eyes.

He could hear the soft rhythm of her breathing.

Neither of them moved.

Neither of them spoke.

For a moment, time itself seemed to pause.

Then—

The warehouse door suddenly opened.

Rayyan walked in carrying a paper bag.

He froze.

His eyes moved from Emmeer...

To Aimaara...

Then back to Emmeer.

A slow grin spread across his face.

"...Should I come back later?"

Aimaara immediately stepped away, her cheeks flushing pink.

"N-No!"

"It's not what you think."

Rayyan lifted both hands dramatically.

"I didn't say anything."

"But I definitely saw something."

Emmeer shot him a cold stare.

"Rayyan."

"Yes, boss."

"Leave."

Rayyan laughed as he walked toward the kitchen.

Under his breath, he muttered,

"Hakim... your daughter is changing him."

Aimaara turned back toward the cracked warehouse window.

"So..."

Her voice was quieter now.

"There was never a normal life waiting for me?"

Emmeer didn't answer.

Sometimes, silence was kinder than the truth.

She stared at the city lights shimmering in the distance.

People were driving home.

Laughing.

Having dinner with their families.

Living ordinary lives.

She wondered if she'd ever have that again.

"My apartment..."

"My job..."

"My friends..."

Her voice cracked.

"They probably think I'm a murderer now."

She swallowed hard.

"I don't even have a home anymore."

Emmeer quietly walked over and stood beside her.

He looked out at the same city.

"I stopped calling any place home a long time ago."

She turned to him.

"Doesn't that make you lonely?"

His answer came after a long pause.

"You get used to loneliness."

She smiled sadly.

"I don't think anyone should."

For the first time, Emmeer looked directly at her.

His storm-grey eyes no longer looked cold.

They looked...

Tired.

"I used to believe protecting people meant keeping them far away from me."

He let out a quiet breath.

"But everyone I tried to protect..."

His voice faded for a moment.

"...ended up leaving anyway."

Aimaara realised something.

He wasn't talking about missions.

He wasn't talking about enemies.

He was talking about loss.

Real loss.

People he had loved.

People he couldn't save.

Without thinking, she gently reached for his injured hand.

Her fingers brushed against his.

"You saved me."

His body stiffened.

No one had touched him like that in years.

"You didn't fail this time."

Those five words shattered something inside him.

For years, he had carried guilt like a second skin.

Hakim.

The young woman in the old photograph.

Countless innocent lives.

Every name haunted him.

Yet this woman—the one he was supposed to protect—was telling him he had done enough.

For the first time in fifteen years, Emmeer closed his eyes.

Not because he was tired.

But because he finally allowed himself to breathe.

Outside...

Hidden in the shadows beyond the warehouse, a pair of binoculars watched them through the broken window.

The observer smiled.

"So..."

"The Dark Prince has finally remembered how to feel."

He lowered the binoculars.

Then quietly spoke into his earpiece.

"Report to the Architect."

"The girl is becoming his weakness."

A cold voice answered immediately.

"Good."

"A man with nothing to lose is impossible to defeat."

A pause.

"Give him someone to lose..."

"...and he'll destroy himself."

The transmission ended.

A heart locked away for fifteen years...

Had begun to open.

And somewhere in the darkness, someone was already planning to break it.

---

The warehouse was unusually quiet.

Rayyan still hadn't returned.

Only the ticking wall clock reminded them that time hadn't stopped.

Aimaara glanced at Emmeer.

He was sitting alone at the wooden table, studying several old files.

His injured arm remained wrapped in fresh bandages.

Yet he worked as though nothing had happened.

She sighed softly.

Does he ever think about himself?

She walked into the small kitchen.

It was barely large enough for one person.

There was an old kettle, a few mugs, and several packets of instant coffee.

Nothing more.

She opened one of the cupboards.

Instant noodles.

Crackers.

Canned food.

She frowned.

"Is this really all he eats?"

Her chest tightened.

A man who owned one of Malaysia's biggest companies lived like someone who had forgotten what comfort felt like.

Several minutes later, she placed a steaming mug on the table.

Emmeer looked up.

"I didn't ask for coffee."

"I know."

"You need it."

"I don't."

"You do."

He stared at the mug.

Then at her.

"You always argue this much?"

Aimaara folded her arms.

"Only with stubborn people."

For the first time that day, a faint smile tugged at the corner of Emmeer's lips.

"So I'm stubborn now?"

"Very."

He quietly picked up the mug.

The coffee was still hot.

He took one sip.

"...It's sweet."

"I know."

"I don't drink sweet coffee."

"I know."

He frowned.

"Then why?"

Aimaara smiled.

"Because you've lost blood."

She paused.

"And because bitter coffee suits a bitter mood."

For a second, Emmeer didn't know what to say.

No one had made coffee for him in years.

He looked down at the mug again.

Then took another sip.

This time, he didn't complain.

Hidden behind the half-open kitchen door, Rayyan returned.

He had witnessed the entire scene.

He smirked to himself.

"Interesting..."

He quietly walked away again.

Neither of them noticed.

Aimaara sat opposite Emmeer.

"Can I ask you something?"

"You just did."

She rolled her eyes.

"I mean... a real question."

He nodded.

"When was the last time you smiled?"

The question caught him off guard.

He looked away.

"I don't remember."

She studied him carefully.

"I think you do."

Silence.

Then, she spoke softly.

"My mother used to say..."

"People who stop smiling usually carry the heaviest pain."

Emmeer froze.

Those words...

They sounded painfully familiar.

Almost identical to something Hakim had once told him.

He slowly looked at Aimaara.

For one impossible moment, he saw her father.

The same kindness.

The same quiet strength.

The same habit of worrying about everyone except herself.

"Aimaara."

She looked up.

"Thank you."

Her eyes widened.

"What for?"

"The coffee."

It wasn't much.

Just two words.

But somehow, they felt more sincere than a thousand speeches.

She smiled.

A genuine smile.

One that reached her eyes.

And without realising it...

Emmeer smiled back.

Only for a second.

But it was enough.

Outside the kitchen, Rayyan almost dropped the grocery bag in his hands.

He blinked twice.

"No way..."

He whispered to himself.

"The Dark Prince..."

"...actually smiled."

He couldn't help laughing quietly.

"Hakim..."

"I think your daughter just did the impossible."

Sometimes, love doesn't begin with a confession.

Sometimes, it begins with a simple cup of coffee.

— TO BE CONTINUED —