Raymond
The garage smelled faintly of motor oil and leather, a mix that always reminded me of long drives and even longer decisions. The late afternoon sun had started to dip, catching on the rims of the SUVs lined up like obedient soldiers. I opened the door for Cynthia, smiling at the way her eyes flicked to mine when she stepped inside.
"Thank you," she said softly, sliding into the passenger seat.
"My wife deserves the best treatment," I teased, closing the door behind her and brushing my hand briefly across hers. Her lips curved into a teasing smile, and I felt that familiar tightness in my chest.
The bodyguards moved efficiently, one standing by the driver's door, the other at the rear, scanning the surroundings with quiet, professional alertness. The driver nodded at me, as if reading the room perfectly, waiting for our cue to move.
"So," Cynthia started, her voice gentle but with a hint of curiosity, "you and your brother… ever have to deal with situations like this together?" Her eyes were serious now, almost probing, and I caught the slight unease behind her question.
I let a slow smile spread. "We've managed. But right now," I said, leaning a little closer so only she could hear, "all that matters is just you and me." Her eyes softened, and I felt the weight of my past—mistakes, regrets, all the other women I used to carelessly pass time with—fade into something smaller, less important. She had all of my heart now.
The SUV rolled smoothly onto the road, city sounds blending with the soft music I had asked the driver to play. We didn't speak for a moment, just watched the blur of buildings and trees pass by. My hand found hers on the seat, and she didn't pull away. I felt her thumb brush lightly over mine, and it was enough to make my chest tighten.
We reached the park, one of the quiet spots I liked to retreat to when the world became too loud. The evening light filtered through the trees, scattering gold across the paths and the soft grass where we stepped out. Cynthia's hand rested on my shoulder as we walked side by side, her presence grounding me.
"You've changed," she murmured suddenly, her eyes tracking my movements. "I mean… you used to—" she hesitated, unsure.
"I know," I said, smiling a little, catching her gaze. "I used to go out… spend time with other women. But now, nothing else matters. Only you." I paused, letting the words sink in. "You have the whole of my heart, Cynthia."
Her lips lifted slightly, a mixture of amusement and warmth. She leaned closer, and I felt the familiar pull between us, that unspoken promise we both kept hovering over. I brushed my hand along her arm, holding her steady, wanting to stay in this bubble just a moment longer.
We found a quiet bench near a small garden, where flowers still clung to the last bits of sunlight. I gestured for her to sit, then sank beside her, careful not to break the moment. She rested her hand lightly on my shoulder, the way she always did when she wanted comfort but also to tease.
"I love you," I whispered, the words finally leaving my chest. She looked at me, startled but smiling, her fingers tightening just a bit.
"I… I love you too," she said softly. The tension between us melted into something warm, intimate, but not rushed.
We leaned toward each other, lips nearly touching, and then—ring ring. Her phone lit up on the bench beside us. I could see the flicker of disappointment cross both our faces.
"It's my mom," she murmured, picking it up reluctantly.
I nodded, giving her space. "Go ahead. I'll wait." My eyes scanned the park, ever alert even in this quiet moment. The bodyguards stayed discreetly behind, making sure no one approached, their presence a silent reassurance.
She spoke softly into the phone, nodding, frowning slightly, then sighing. I could hear snippets of concern from her voice, but she reassured whoever was on the line with calm authority. A few minutes later, she hung up and turned back to me.
"Everything's fine," she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Mom just wanted to check in."
I reached over, brushing my hand against hers. "Ready to go?"
She nodded, and I helped her to her feet. The walk back to the SUV was quiet, our hands brushing occasionally, the air between us filled with soft energy that neither of us wanted to break.
As we got in, a message pinged on my phone. From Zara. "We need to meet. Urgent strategy discussion. Tonight." I felt the familiar weight of responsibility press down. I hesitated, glancing at Cynthia.
"I… I have to handle something. But you'll be safe," I said, trying to keep my tone light. "I'll tell you where to meet me after." She nodded, trust in her eyes, and I felt a twinge of guilt.
The bodyguards flanked the SUVs again, vigilant as we moved through the streets. I kept one hand near her, resting lightly on the seat beside her. "Don't worry. We'll go out properly soon, just you and me," I said, my voice soft. She gave me a small smile, her fingers brushing my arm.
The city lights blurred past as I drove, the responsibility of Zara's summons heavy in my mind. But Cynthia's presence was grounding, a reminder of why I fought, why I survived. I stole a glance at her, and she caught my eye. A silent understanding passed between us: love mattered now, everything else could wait.
We reached a quieter section of town, a private courtyard where I had parked the SUVs for the evening. I made sure she stepped out safely, scanning the surroundings as the bodyguards secured the perimeter.
"You're safe here," I said, holding her hand a moment longer. "I promise I'll be back soon."
She looked up at me, lips slightly parted, and whispered, "I trust you."
The warmth of her words lingered as I watched her enter the small garden area, her fingers tracing the edges of a fountain, her eyes bright in the soft lamplight. I took a deep breath, steeling myself for the night ahead.
My phone buzzed again — Zara's name flashing insistently.
I swiped it open.
Zara: "Meet me. Urgent. Tonight. The North Dock syndicate is moving again. We intercepted chatter. Empire rooftop level. Can't delay."
I paused, thumb hovering over the reply.
That wasn't vague panic. That was pressure. Zara didn't summon me unless something had shifted — territory, alliances, loyalties. And she never chose Empire unless she wanted neutral ground with eyes everywhere.
I typed carefully.
"I'll come. But only if the Empire perimeter is locked. No freelancers. No blind spots."
Her reply came fast.
"Empire security confirmed. Internal cameras active. No external tail detected. Whoever's moving is inside the bridge."
My jaw tightened.
Internal bridge meant strategy, not gunfire. People sitting at tables deciding who would bleed next.
I placed a secure call, ordering Cynthia escorted straight home before I diverted. The bodyguards acknowledged. The SUVs adjusted formation.
The city blurred past the tinted glass, but my focus sharpened — shifting from her safety to the threat waiting above the Empire skyline.
I sent my final message.
"Understood. I'm en route. Keep the room sealed. No one speaks until I arrive."
Even as I pressed send, I felt the tug of what I had just left behind — her hand on my shoulder, the trust in her gaze, the quiet words she didn't need to speak. Nothing else mattered more than keeping her safe. But the knot in my chest warned me this meeting could change everything.
I glanced at the rearview mirror, catching the SUV carrying her, her silhouette outlined against the streetlights. "Stay safe," I muttered under my breath. "Always."