14.

Warren walked out of the bustling bike race event, the roar of engines and the cheers of the crowd fading behind him. The adrenaline that had coursed through his veins was replaced by a weary heaviness. He reached the parking area, his footsteps echoing in the quieting night. Slipping on his helmet, he swung his leg over his bike and started the engine, its rumble a comforting, familiar sound.

As he rode onto the main road, the cool wind whipped around him, a stark contrast to the heat and intensity of the race. He had come here to clear his mind, hoping the speed and thrill would drown out the memories that had been haunting him. But instead, the events of the day only seemed to amplify his turmoil.

Riding at a moderate speed, Warren's gaze wandered, searching for distraction. That's when he saw her. On the sidewalk, a familiar figure stood with staggering legs. His heart skipped a beat as he recognized her, Lily. She was visibly drunk, her body swaying as she hugged herself against the chilly night air.

He tensed, his grip on the handlebars tightening. A part of him wanted to ride past, to keep moving and leave her behind just as he had tried to leave their past. But his heart wouldn't let him. With a heavy sigh, he pulled over and cut the engine.

He hesitated for a moment, the internal struggle clear on his face. But he couldn't ignore her, not like this. Steeling himself, he walked up to her, his footsteps slow and deliberate, the echoes of his steps mingling with the distant, fading music of the race.

She blinked when she spotted him striding towards her, her view blurred but she knew his body way too clearly to would not recognize him.

When he stood in front of her, she gazed at him meekly. Her face shining with a hue of orange and red in the streetlight above, few strands of her hair falling on her face, with her eyes droopy and weak, she still gazed at him straightly.

His breath mixed with the chilled air around, as he tried to not get affected by the intensity of those beautiful green eyes.

"Ren," She muttered softly, and he swallowed, keeping his face neutral to not show what effect her voice had on him, "why are you here?"

"Where's your boyfriend?" Ignoring the way his heart twisted at his own question, he took a brief look around, finding no other existence of any human except them.

"Apne nashedi dosto ke sath hoga kamina," She hugged her arms around herself, closing her eyes as a chilly breeze whirled past them, swaying her dress around her legs. (He might be hanging out with his drunk friends.)

He knitted his brows in confusion, trying to figure out her words which seemed to not belong from his mother tongue, "I don't know what you're saying."

"You don't have to." She staggered, stumbling back. He would be lying if he said the coldness rolling off her tongue didn't affect him.

He stared at her briefly-the blackish-redness under her pie-eyes, her hair swaying at her back and shoulders with her body, her hands wrapped around her torso, clutching her dress to lessen the chillness of the tensed night. It took every muscle in his body to not embrace her, to not hide her into his arms and tell her how sorry he was, how guilty he was, how tired he was-tired of missing her, tired of craving her, tired of wanting her but not having her, tired of being tired.

He exhaled, wishing the breath would take away every pain and sorrow from him. It didn't. He could only swallow the lump in his throat and pretend to not care.

She peeked through her eye lashes, which were heavy and drunk, struggling to stay open for more than a second.

"Why are you-" She began, her voice nothing more than an incoherent murmur, but in the haze of her wasted state, her foot tripped, and she stumbled backwards, her hands reaching out to take a hold of something to prevent the fall.

Warren's eyes widened, his hands instantly grabbed hers as he pulled her towards him with a strong jerk. She doubled over her steps, her front colliding with his chest as her lips brushed against his for a split second.

She instantly leaned away from him, shocked.

Her lips were no more in contact with his, yet he stood frozen in his spot, electrifying currents flowing through his nerves.

He gazed at her-wrong move. She was looking at him with the same eyes as his, hooded with longing and desire. All the blood in his body flowed to the south, imagining things he shouldn't, things that once were too often and random between them, things he has craved for so long, to hold her, to have her.

He shook his head mentally, throwing all his twisted thoughts to the back.

"Are you alone?" He asked, a hint of worry shining in his coal orbs. His muscles tensed, breaths uneven as he couldn't yet recover.

"I've booked a cab," That wasn't the answer to his question, but an answer to his thoughts. She knew it wasn't in him to leave a drunk girl on the street alone or in responsibility to a stranger, let it even be a professional driver.

"Cancel it. I'll take you home." He knew he wouldn't be able to leave her alone when he stopped his bike and came to her; a little part of him didn't want to.

"No need. I can handle myself." Her words cut through the air, piercing through his heart viciously, stabbing and twisting in it until he could feel himself bleeding. The hidden affirmation in her answer was all it needed him to know that she could handle herself, she was fine without him.

That's what he wanted. He wanted her to be okay with him gone, he wanted her to be okay with him not being a part of her life anymore. But why did his chest feel like it had been tied with ropes when she confirmed it.

"You're drunk, Lily. Let me just drive you home-" he insisted.

"Ren, if you cared so much, you would've at least picked up one of the 476 missed calls I did."

482. he said in his head. He knew the count more accurately than her.

Suppressing the urge to let out a sigh, he stared at her mindlessly. If only he wasn't such a coward, they would've still been together, like she wanted to, like he wished to.

He parted his lips to say something, but a car honked at the other end of the road. He turned his head to see a cab parked, the driver peeking out of the window and looking at them both with his phone in one hand, probably an application of the transport or maps.

She removed his hands from her arms, walking ahead.

"Lily..." he called out behind her softly, but she continued walking, ignoring him.

She was in the middle of the road, staggering and tripping so often while trying to reach the cab safely. A side of her dress gleamed with a bright yellowish light, before a loud honk was heard. She turned her blur gaze to the direction, the powerful light blinding her vision, making her eyes to minimise on their own.

The brightness was now more intense, closing the distance with blazing speed.

She gasped, realising what was happening. Her instincts no longer worked under the influence of alcohol in her body, her senses screamed to move but her legs stayed glued to their position.

The car was just a few metres away, she closed her eyes shut, covering her face with her hands. The honks became more loud and persistent, the driver screaming something but it all was vague to her.

Her feet twirled around, as the car whooshed past her, the curses of the driver fading at the distance. Her heart thumped loudly, wildly. Her chest heaving up and down, tremors running down her skin with each breath.

She opened her eyes, feeling a well-built, muscular torso against her feminine one. The smell of leather mixed with musk and a hint of sweat invading her senses, calming her down and she didn't need to look up to know who it was. His long, slender fingers were curled at her nape, while his other hand was wrapped around the middle of her back protectively. Her shoulders relaxed as she let herself fall into the embrace, his embrace- the one she has been longing to drown into.

-----

She stirred in her sleep, the cold metal of the iron pole numbing her side of the forehead.

The blinding rays of sun seeped through the window, casting her face with a beautiful glow of golden, making her groan in her sleep with the mild heat that accompanied it.

She heard a scream. Her arm gripping the metal pole tighter, she was still deep in her slumber to recognize anything.

The scream echoed again, more loud and painful, enough to make her groan.

The heat on her face was intensifying, as her eyes started to open and close weakly, adjusting with the brightness.

Someone screamed again, and her eyes flew open. She peeked at the open door, her heart pacing up, a knot forming in her stomach.

The sleepiness long gone, exchanged with a burning anxiety and chilling shivers.

Her eyes were glued to the door, the small view of kitchen and corridor as she expected something again, to confirm it was a part of her nightmare-which unusually didn't manage to leave any aftermath on her-and it wasn't someone's actual screams.

A faded sound of a pair of foot tapping on the marble floor fell onto her ears, she leaned forward to take in more visibility.

After a few seconds, she saw Tiger walking towards the room. Her heart skipped a beat, body tensing up as she leaned back, closing her eyes shut. She didn't know why she felt the need to pretend to be asleep, nor did she pay much attention to figure it out.

His footsteps were now loud enough, indicating his presence in the room. As much as she didn't wanted to get caught pretending and get herself embarrassed in front of him again, the curiosity was one hell of a torture.

She opened just one eye, small enough to give her a somewhat clear vision as she peeked through her long eye-lashes.

He opened the cupboard, taking out a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt. He really loved that colour, she supposed. It was probably once in a blue moon he would wear something else than black.

Her gaze lingered on the rugged veins that traced across his muscular arms. The knot in her stomach intensified, this time for different reasons.

As he closed the door, moving towards the bathroom with his clothes in one hand, she saw the knuckles of his other hand covered in blood. Her eyes bulged out of their sockets before she shut them again.

"Stop pretending, squirrel." His raspy voice spoke, she opened her eyes, seeing the bathroom door close behind him.

Does he have eyes on his back too? How does he know everything?

She played with the cuffs on her hand, tied to the pole. Her stomach grumbled, making embarrassing sounds.

"Ouch." She flinched at the sudden invasion of a groan. Turning her face and leaning forward a little again, she saw Warren holding his toe at the door, his face contorted in pain.

He straightened, his lower lip jutting out in a small pout, glaring at the harmless door as he stubbed his toe with its sharp corner.

She laughed silently at the way he muttered incoherent curses, which the door most probably couldn't hear.

In all the chaos, he was sometimes a reason for her smile. A smile which soon fades off once her reality dawns upon her, weighing her down, twisting her up.

Warren walked towards her, his face morphed into an unreadable expression. She watched him curiously as he bent down and sat in front of her, folding his legs beneath him.

"You up?" She could make out he wanted to say something, his gaze kept flickering between her and to his lap.

"Um... I hope you won't be mad," he said, searching her face as he spoke, embarrassment lacing his tone.

He reached into his pocket, taking out his phone. She watched his actions attentively, trying to make out what he was doing.

He unlocked the device, clicking on the camera application and holding the front-camera to her face.

She scrunched her brows together, bringing her focus to the phone. She gasped at the horrible reflection shown in the device. Her face was covered in different shades of red, painting her a victim of lethal abuse and torture.

"What...what did you do to my face?" Her eyes were wide, glaring at the different version of her face in the camera.

"You know...DK visited an hour before," he started, her insides churning at the mention of the mere name, "We had to inform him about the attack yesterday so...if he didn't saw you in bruises, me and Ti would've been in bruises then," he concluded, his shoulders slumping down at the last words.

She stared at him briefly before nodding subtly.

"How did you do this though?....It looks so real." She asked, examining the fake bruises on her face.

"Um...just the make-up products I found in my room.' He answered, scraping his nape awkwardly.

"And how do you have make-up in your room?" She asked with a small teasing smile, knowing the answer already.

He cleared his throat, "You don't need to know."

She suppressed the urge to laugh at his embarrassed face, not wanting to let her guard down. He seemed to be harmless, the less-likely to cause her any danger. But she could never be so sure.

His phone buzzed in his hand, and since her eyes drew back to the device instantly, she saw the caller ID before Warren turned it towards him.

Her smile faded, heart skipped several beats, blood rushing cold suddenly, the knot from earlier returning with a powerful force, the image of the name of the caller ID with the green and red buttons beneath stuck in her head.

Images flooded back in her mind from the tragic past. The only man she trusted, and who didn't betray her. The only man to help her out, the only man she saw as a man in a field of monsters, was calling Warren. Why? Was he involved in her kidnapping too?

She remembered watching his silhouette at the window of the DK's bungalow at the night she was brought there. She wished it wasn't what she was thinking.