Midnight had long passed, yet the world refused to sleep. Social media was on fire. Posts, comments, and reposts exploded across the digital void. Photos of Nathan and a famous model were everywhere.
There he was, immaculately dressed, holding hands with a woman outside a five-star hotel. The paparazzi's lens wasn't the clearest, but everyone knew. That was Nathan. And this wasn't the first time he'd been caught with another woman.
The news was spreading like wildfire. Headlines screamed louder than the music inside the club. The digital world was ablaze.
"You see this?" Adrian let out a dry laugh. "Even the devil could learn a thing or two from that bastard."
It wasn't funny. That laugh was a mask. Rage, heartbreak, and helplessness woven into sound.
Damian glanced briefly at the phone screen. His jaw clenched. Even swallowing felt like a task. Still, he remained silent.
"That bastard's out there having the time of his life while Nayla is who knows where," Adrian hissed. "And he gets to screw that woman like he never destroyed my sister's life!"
Damian straightened, shoulders rigid, fists resting hard against his thighs. Still not a word, but his eyes darkened. Dangerously so.
"I want to destroy him, Damian. I swear to God, I want to tear him apart the way he tore Nayla apart!"
"If you act now, he wins," Damian muttered. His voice was calm but sharp like a freshly whetted blade.
Adrian snapped his head toward him. "And we're just supposed to watch? Watch that bastard touch another woman while Nayla's wounds are still bleeding?"
Damian slowly lifted his chin, locking eyes with Adrian. "I never said we'd watch. I said… it's not time yet."
Adrian ran his fingers through his hair, like trying to stop the fire rising inside him.
"He put my sister through hell," he whispered hoarsely.
Damian leaned forward. "Trust me, his time is coming. Nathan will fall harder than he ever thought possible. You have my word."
Silence fell again. But it wasn't peace. It was tension, it was a storm held at bay, it was vengeance waiting for its moment to ignite.
Adrian bowed his head, trailing a finger along the condensation clinging to his empty glass. Like he was waiting for karma to finally show up. His voice came next— quiet, but earth-shaking.
"Damian." He looked up, locking eyes with the man in front of him. "If you were me, wouldn't you protect Nayla for the rest of your life? Wouldn't you make sure no one ever hurt her again? Wouldn't you… never let anyone touch her?"
Damian didn't speak for a moment. His gaze sharpened. Not at Adrian, but at the thought buried deep in his mind. His eyes narrowed, his tone level when he finally responded.
"Yes. Of course."
It was a simple answer. But behind it, a storm raged.
Damian still had to hide Nayla within the shadows, because the light had not yet come.
To the world, he remained distant.
To Adrian, he remained loyal friend.
He had to protect her in silence. Without credit. Without glory. In ways that no one would ever understand, not even her.
He had to protect her with teeth bared and fists clenched. Not with promises, but with control. Not with tenderness, but with ruthless devotion.
He had to protect her in his own way. Save her in his own way.
Once more, in his own way.
"I won't let anyone touch her," Adrian murmured.
"Neither will I," Damian echoed. The words barely audible, more a vow to himself than to the man sitting across from him.
Adrian didn't know. He had no idea that Nayla… was already under the protection of the man before him. That Damian hadn't just guarded her.
He already had her in his grasp.