Dangerously Yours

The silence of the night shattered as a fist connected with flesh. The man staggered backward, his shoes scraping against the damp pavement. Before he could regain his balance, the hooded figure charged at him again. Another punch came flying toward his face. He blocked it, but the figure twisted out of his grip and drove an elbow toward his jaw. He ducked just in time. The elbow missed by inches. He retaliated with a kick aimed at the figure’s stomach, but the stranger blocked it with an arm, the impact forcing them several steps apart. Neither hesitated. The hooded figure attacked again. Their fists collided, the sharp c***k echoing through the empty alley. A kick. A block. A punch. A dodge. The man caught the stranger’s wrist, briefly halting the assault. For a moment, they stared at each other. Then the figure twisted free and reached beneath the black clothing. A flash of metal caught the faint light from a nearby streetlamp. The man barely moved aside. Too late. The blade sliced across his arm. He stumbled backward, his gaze dropping to the thin line of blood spreading across his sleeve. When he looked up, the hooded figure was already standing several feet away, the knife disappearing beneath the folds of their clothing. “Who the hell are you?” The stranger didn’t answer. Instead, they raised their fists again. His jaw tightened. “Seriously?” “Shut it.” The voice was low and cold, giving away almost nothing about the person beneath the hood. The figure lunged. He blocked the first punch, then the second. A kick came toward his ribs, but he caught the stranger’s leg. A mistake. The figure twisted sharply, using his grip against him and forcing him to release it. Before he could recover, the stranger was back on their feet, ready to attack. He met the next strike head-on. They fought with ruthless precision, neither willing to give the other an opening. Yet something about the stranger unsettled him. It wasn’t just the skill. Every movement seemed deliberate, every attack calculated. There was no hesitation, no uncertainty. Only determination. And those eyes. Even beneath the shadow of the hood, their ocean-blue colour was unmistakable. He had seen hatred in people’s eyes before. He’d seen it in the faces of men who had lost everything because of him, in the eyes of those who had sworn revenge, and in the cold stares of enemies who would gladly see him dead. He had made plenty of enemies over the years. That came with the life he lived. But this was different. There was something deeply personal about the way the stranger looked at him, as though killing him wasn’t merely a desire but a promise. He stepped back, studying the figure. “Who sent you?” The stranger said nothing. His jaw tightened. “Or is this personal?” Still, no answer. He let out a humourless laugh, glancing briefly at the blood running down his arm. “Believe me, I’ve got more than enough people who want me dead. So if you’re here to settle a score, you’ll have to be a little more specific.” The stranger’s ocean-blue eyes burned with hatred. Adrian’s expression hardened. “Unless there’s something I’m missing, I don’t see why you’d look at me like that.” For a moment, neither spoke. Then the stranger finally answered. “You killed someone close to me.” His expression changed. Not because he’d never heard those words before, but because of the pain behind them. For the first time that night, genuine confusion crossed his face. “Who?” The stranger’s eyes hardened beneath the hood. The answer never came. ⸻ A few hours earlier… Deep within a dark forest, a middle-aged man lay on the cold, damp ground. Blood stained his black shirt, spreading across his chest. His breathing was shallow, each breath weaker than the last. He had spent years surviving dangerous situations. He had faced threats, made enemies, and lived through circumstances that would have broken most people. But tonight, he had lost. His trembling fingers reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. His vision blurred as he struggled to focus on the screen. There was only one person he wanted to speak to. Vivian. With what little strength remained, he dialled her number. The phone rang once. Twice. Then she answered. “Marcus?” He closed his eyes briefly, relief washing over his face at the sound of her voice. “Vivian,” he whispered. Something about his voice immediately put her on edge. “Marcus?” She sat up straight. “Where are you? What’s wrong? Why do you sound like you’re in pain?” He tried to answer, but a strained breath escaped his lips. “I’m… in the forest.” “The forest?” Her brows drew together. “Marcus, what happened to you?” “I’ll… send you my location.” “Marcus, wait—” The call ended. A moment later, a location appeared on her phone. Vivian stared at the screen, her heart pounding. Marcus had never sounded like that before. She grabbed her keys and rushed out. Throughout the drive, questions crowded her mind. Had someone attacked him? Was he seriously injured? Why hadn’t he told her what happened? She tried calling him again. No answer. “Please pick up,” she whispered, tightening her grip on the steering wheel. She called again. Still nothing. By the time she reached the forest, anxiety had settled heavily in her chest. She climbed out of the car and followed the location on her phone, hurrying beneath the towering trees. The branches blocked most of the moonlight, leaving the forest shrouded in darkness. “Marcus!” Her voice echoed between the trees. There was no response. She ventured deeper, her eyes searching the ground and the spaces between the trees. “Marcus, where are you?” Then she heard it. A faint, ragged breath. Vivian froze. “Marcus?” She followed the sound, pushing branches aside as she hurried forward. And then she saw him. For a moment, her entire body went still. Marcus lay motionless on the ground, his black shirt soaked with blood. “No…” The word barely escaped her lips. “No, no, no. Please…” She rushed to his side and dropped to her knees, grabbing his hand. It was cold. Far too cold. “Marcus, please.” Tears welled in her eyes. “Open your eyes.” His eyelids fluttered before slowly opening. “I’ll get you to the hospital,” she said desperately. “Just hold on, okay? Please don’t leave me.” She tried to stop the bleeding, but there was too much of it. Marcus looked at her, his expression strangely calm despite his condition. “It’s too late, Vivian.” She shook her head. “No. Don’t say that.” “I only called because…” He paused to catch his breath. “I wanted to see your face one last time.” Vivian stared at him, unable to comprehend what she was hearing. Then her lips trembled. “No, Marcus. Please don’t say that.” Tears spilled down her cheeks as she clutched his hand. “Who did this to you?” Her voice cracked. “Tell me.” He remained silent. “Marcus, please.” Her fingers tightened around his, trembling uncontrollably. “Just tell me who did this.” She wiped her face with the back of her hand, but the tears kept coming. “I’ll get you help. You just have to stay awake, okay? Just stay awake.” “Vivian…” “No.” She shook her head fiercely. “Don’t say goodbye to me.” Her voice broke as she leaned closer. “You can’t leave me.” A sob escaped her throat. She lowered her head and pressed his hand against her cheek. “I still need you.” Marcus watched her through half-lidded eyes. He had rarely seen Vivian cry. In all the years he had known her, she had always been the strong one. The girl who gritted her teeth through pain, wiped away her own blood, and got back on her feet without asking anyone for help. But now, she was falling apart before him. And there was nothing he could do. “Who did this to you?” she whispered again. Her voice was barely audible, but the pain behind it was unmistakable. Then her grief began to give way to anger. She lifted her head, tears still clinging to her lashes. “I swear, whoever did this to you will pay.” Her voice trembled, but her gaze burned with determination. “I’ll destroy everything they love. I’ll make them regret ever touching you.” Marcus looked at her, pain flickering across his face. He tried to raise his hand. Slowly. Weakly. He wanted to wipe away her tears, just as he had done countless times before. But his strength failed before he could reach her. His hand fell back to the ground. Vivian caught it immediately and pressed it against her cheek. “Please…” She could barely see through her tears. “Please tell me who did this, Marcus.” His breathing grew weaker. His lips parted, but no sound came out at first. Then, finally, he managed a whisper. “Ve…” Vivian leaned closer. “Marcus?” His lips moved again. “Venom.” Hearing that name, Vivian totally froze.