Chapter:12
1343 Words
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The afternoon sun streamed through the windows, casting a soft golden light across the small lounge area.
Ethan sat on the couch, his arm resting on a pillow Alex had insisted he use, flipping aimlessly through a battered magazine from the coffee table.
Alex was in the tiny kitchen, moving around in an oversized hoodie and leggings, humming under her breath as she searched the cabinets.
"Do you eat pancakes?" she called out.
Ethan blinked, a little thrown by the normalcy of it. "Uh...yeah. Who doesn't eat pancakes?"
She laughed — a bright, easy sound — and he found himself smiling without even meaning to.
"Good," she said. "Because that's all I know how to make without burning the place down."
He set the magazine down, shifting carefully. "You don't have to do all this, you know."
Alex shrugged, mixing the batter. "It's my day off. I'd probably just be binge-watching something dumb anyway." She glanced at him over her shoulder. "Besides...you look like you haven't had a real meal in days."
Ethan rubbed the back of his neck. She wasn't wrong. "Been a rough week."
"I can tell," she said softly, almost to herself.
For a few minutes, the only sounds were the sizzle of batter hitting the pan and the faint murmur of a TV playing in the background.
Alex set a plate down in front of him — a little messy, maybe, but stacked high and drizzled with syrup.
"Bon appétit," she said, giving a mock bow.
Ethan stared at it, then up at her. "You're a lifesaver, Alex."
"Don't mention it," she said, sitting across from him with her own plate. "Just promise not to bleed all over the furniture."
He grinned. "I'll try my best."
They ate in a comfortable silence, the kind that only happens when two people instinctively trust each other, even if they don't fully understand why yet.
After a while, Alex nudged him with her foot.
"So, mystery man...you gonna tell me your name?"
Ethan looked up, syrup clinging to the corner of his mouth. He wiped it off quickly, a little embarrassed.
"Ethan," he said finally. "Ethan Richmond."
"Well, Ethan Richmond," she said, leaning back in her chair, arms crossed behind her head, "you're lucky you ran into me last night instead of, you know, someone who would have just screamed and slammed the door in your face."
He chuckled. "Yeah...I guess I am."
Their eyes met, something unspoken hanging between them.
Not quite trust yet.
Not quite friendship.
But something real.
---
Lucas stood in the back of the dimly lit warehouse, his hands clasped behind him as the heavy steel doors creaked open. Three men filed in, bruised, bloodied, and looking like they'd just crawled out of a warzone.
He didn’t move. Didn’t blink. He just stared at them, the tension in the air sharp enough to cut skin.
One of the men—Rico—stepped forward, wiping blood from the side of his mouth. "Boss...we lost him."
For a long moment, there was only silence. Then Lucas’s hands slowly unlinked, falling to his sides. His jaw tightened.
"You lost him," he repeated, voice dangerously low.
"Yeah," Rico stammered. "He was shot—he's wounded, but...he got away. Some girl helped him."
Lucas’s breath hissed out between his teeth. His knuckles whitened, fists clenching so hard it looked like he might snap his own bones. He took one slow, deliberate step toward them.
"One man. One wounded man...and you three let him slip away?" His voice rose an octave, sharp and feral.
Rico swallowed hard, but didn't answer. No one dared to.
Lucas suddenly grabbed the nearest chair and slammed it against the concrete wall, the wood shattering into splinters. The sound echoed like a gunshot in the vast emptiness of the warehouse.
The men flinched but stayed rooted in place, knowing better than to run.
"I should kill you where you stand," Lucas snarled. His eyes were wild, breathing ragged. "You have no idea what you’ve cost me."
He turned away from them, pacing like a caged beast, trying to leash the fury burning through his veins.
When he finally faced them again, his voice was colder than ice. "Find him. Find the girl. And this time...if you fail again..." He let the unspoken threat hang heavy in the air.
The men nodded quickly, scrambling to get out before Lucas made good on his rage.
Left alone, Lucas stared at the broken chair, chest heaving, a deadly promise hardening in his mind.
Ethan Richmond wouldn't slip through his fingers again.
---
Lily sat cross-legged on her bed, twirling her phone between her fingers. She glanced at the clock—already past noon. She hadn't heard from Ethan in days, and it was starting to make her anxious.
Biting her lip, she finally gave in and tapped his contact. The line rang once...twice...then a third time before she heard the familiar click of him picking up.
"Hello?" His voice was low, rough—nothing like the easygoing brother she was used to.
Relief flooded through her. "Ethan! Finally. I've been calling you like crazy. When are you coming back? Italy can't have kidnapped you or something, right?" she teased, laughing lightly.
There was a pause on the other end. A long, strange pause.
"I'm already back," Ethan said finally, his voice tight.
Lily sat up straighter, frowning. "Wait—what? When? You didn't even tell me! You okay? You sound...off."
Another silence. She could almost hear him thinking.
"I just got in last night. It's been...complicated," he said carefully.
Lily's heart sank. Complicated was never good when it came to Ethan.
"Complicated how?" she pressed. "Ethan, what's going on?"
He let out a slow breath, as if weighing how much to tell her.
"I can't explain everything right now. I'm safe. That's all you need to know," he said. His voice softened slightly. "I'll come find you soon, I promise."
Lily hesitated, sensing the storm under his calm words. But she trusted him. She always had.
"Okay," she said quietly. "But please...be careful."
"I will," he murmured, before the call ended with a soft click.
Lily stared at the screen for a long moment, unease curling in her stomach. She didn’t know what her brother had gotten himself into, but something told her this wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.
---
Ethan leaned heavily against the wall of Alex's small bedroom, the dull ache in his left arm pulsing harder with every heartbeat. Blood had soaked through the makeshift bandage Alex had tied for him, but he gritted his teeth and stayed silent.
Across the room, Alex hovered nervously by the door, occasionally glancing at him like she wasn't sure if he was about to pass out or start bleeding all over her floor.
His phone buzzed quietly against his thigh. He glanced down — Lily.
A curse slipped out under his breath. He couldn't ignore her; she would just worry more.
Clenching his jaw, Ethan wiped his bloody fingers on the side of his jeans and answered, trying to keep his voice steady.
"Hello?"
The second he heard her cheerful voice, the weight of everything crashed a little heavier onto his chest. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to sound normal.
"I'm already back," he admitted, the words tasting bitter.
When she pressed him for answers, his eyes flickered to Alex. She was pretending not to listen, but he could tell she was worried too. He couldn't drag Lily into this. Not yet.
"I’m safe. That’s all you need to know." He forced his voice to be gentle, even though inside he was burning with rage — at Lucas, at himself, at the whole damn situation.
He ended the call and let the phone slip from his fingers onto the bed.
For a long moment, neither he nor Alex spoke.
Finally, Alex broke the silence, her voice quiet. "You're lucky she called now... Not earlier."
Ethan gave a dry, humourless smile. "Yeah," he muttered. "Lucky."
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- Writer
