21.

Warren walked out of the club. He couldn't drink to the fullest even though he intended to when he arrived.

He sighed deeply, recalling the bitter feeling he felt throughout his two hours in the place, just because she was looked at by another man, touched by another man.

She has got a boyfriend. Get over it, you moron. He reminded himself, walking to the parking area.

He held the helmet with one hand, swinging his leg over his bike. His phone rang, and he stopped to kick the ignition midway.

"Man, you didn't even wait to have dinner. We're just going to JazeClassic. Join us," Shaun's slurry voice said as soon as he answered the call.

"No, you guys go. I'm heading home," Warren replied, adjusting himself down on his bike.

"Are you sure?" Shaun asked, loud music behind him and his drunk voice making it difficult for him to understand the latter.

"Leave me alone!" He turned his head to the sudden, angry voice of a woman, a very familiar woman.

"Yeah," He replied to Shaun distractedly, his eyes fixated on her and the man behind her-her current boyfriend to be precise. She was pacing forward with long strides as if to get away with the man lurking behind who so clearly was not listening to her, and kept on trailing behind her while muttering apologies.

"Stop following me, Max! I am done with you, and we are over," She whirled around to face the man, spitting the words angrily, her face morphed into a tight, mad frown, her chest rising with her heavy, irregular breaths.

And Warren was suddenly worried, not having any idea what was happening, except recognizing the small flip of his heart at her words. But it did nothing to tame his curiosity and the little anxiousness.

"Leyla, please. Try to understand. I won't ever do that to you. It was that girl, it wasn't me," Max urged, desperate to make himself clear.

Her foot tripped just a little, the alcohol in her system starting to show its effects.

Warren watched with a confused frown on his face, a little hint of anger and jealousy visible on his features.

She took a deep breath in, staring at the person in front of him with flames flaring in her eyes, reflecting her slightly trembling body. She folded her arms over her chest, her red purse dangling on her hips, shining like small golden beads in the bright lights.

"I would've never known if Alex didn't spill it out accidentally. You cheated on me, you have been cheating on me for so long now. I have given you enough chanc-"

"Leyla, please-"

"No," She put up a hand in front of her, making a distance between her and him, "I'm done with you, Max. I'm done. We're over, and that's it."

Her whole body was shaking in agitation. Warren noticed the small trip of her foot when she tried to take a step back.

The area was quiet, unlike the insides of the club which was blasting with music. Thanks to the soundproof walls, the craze inside wasn't a ruckus for the people outside.

"Leyla, I'm sorry. I won't do it again, I'll fix this," Max took a step forward as she took one backward, her chest rising as she tensed, slapping his hand away from her.

"Do not touch me," She gritted out sternly, her eyes flaring in anger, jaw clenched and fingers formed into fists at her sides.

"Stop acting like a stuck-up," Max rolled his eyes, his fake apologetic, sorry facade wearing off as the frustration took over him.

"What?" She raised her eyebrows, a small, sarcastic, and amazed laugh leaving her mouth. It was difficult for her to distinguish whether it was her or the alcohol in her.

"If you're not ready to take a step ahead then of course I'm gonna look for someone else," Max ran a hand through his hair, salivating his lips as the gut-wrenching, absurd words rolled off his tongue with smooth, unapologetic ease.

"What do you mean?" She blinked at him, shocked.

"You keep on stopping me whenever I try something with you. You can't even kiss me properly. Do you think I'm just gonna sit here and be patient for you for my whole damn life? I have got needs too," Max exasperated, his pent-up words finally finding the courage to come out loud.

Tears pricked the back of her eyes. Sure, she didn't love him. But he was good to her. At least that's what she thought, that's what she told herself whenever she found him with any other woman.

"Get lost," She muttered, her jaw clenched, her fingers digging in the palm of her skin.

"Leyla, look, I didn't mean to say tha-" Before Max could finish his sentence, his jaw collided with a sharp blow that sent him stumbling backward.

"What the fuck," He groaned, holding his now dislocated, bleeding jaw.

"The only fuck you deserve, asshole. Now, get your ass out of here before I break your neck too," Warren spoke, the deepness in his voice only adding the danger and promise in his threat, his eyes blazing, warning the latter while he toyed with the metal ring on his index finger, the same hand he used to punch him.

"Who the hell are you?" Max scoffed, raising his eyebrows incredulously, giving Warren a contemptuous look.

"I am the hell you can't handle, buddy," Warren kept a hand on his shoulder, taking a step ahead and standing close enough to give Max a glimpse of his blazing, threatening black eyes,

"Leave," A small raise of brows, a small raise of the chin, the light tightness on the shoulder, and Max could see his death in those predatory, malevolent, coal-black eyes.

"Fuck," Max rolled his eyes, trying not to show he was weakened by playing it cool but the little tremble in his feet as he took a step behind gave away all his efforts.

When he was no more in sight, Warren signed, closing his eyes, preparing himself to turn around and face her.

He felt her eyes at his back, felt her presence behind him, quiet, accusing, and burning.

He inhaled deeply, gathering himself as he turned around.

His heart twisted and shuddered under the pair of those piercing, green eyes.

She said nothing, just stood there looking at him silently. But the way her eyes were boring holes in his eyes was unnerving. Warren felt himself drowning, sinking in those hazel green orbs, something clogging his throat, strangling him to death.

"Lily...." Warren called out softly.

She tore her gaze away from him, turning on her feet to leave.

"Lily," Warren called out to her once again, but she didn't stop.

Warren strode ahead, grabbing her wrist, and stopping her in her steps.

"Lily, let me drop you home," He stated softly, his thumb caressing her skin.

"I can go by myself," He heard her say, her tone curt and stern.

"I know. But I just can't let you go alone at night. It's not safe," He explained, her back still facing him.

"From what right are you worrying about me?" She finally faced him, her tone laced with bitterness, jerking her hand away from his hold as if his touch burned her.

The small twitch he felt in his heart was beyond painful.

He fell silent, not knowing the answer. Honestly, he didn't have it in himself to face it. The words were at the back of his throat, right at the tip of his tongue but they wouldn't come out. He wanted to tell her everything, but he had wrecked her and their relationship to the extent that there was nothing left as 'rights' over her. He lost every fucking right over her the moment he walked away.

"This place is so pretty, isn't it?" She said with a smile, looking around the big, cozy-looking cafe he had brought her to.

"Hm, it is," he played with the ring on his index finger, the heaviness weighing down on his chest like a mountain crushing the earth beneath it. The words lingered on his tongue, finding the chance to come out. He barely kept himself neutral on the surface.

"Well, we just saw each other three days ago. Why did you call me again?" She raised her eyebrows, curious to know if he missed her so much to ask her to meet him again just after their time together. He usually would be a tad busy with his work, so they would only meet when he was free.

"Yeah, I......" He trailed off, subconsciously staring at the brown and black patterns of the table, "I wanted to...talk to you about something."

"About what? Are you alright, Ren?" She asked, concern and worry coating her soft feminine voice, considering his aloofness.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Warren assured.

No. He wasn't fine. How could he be? He was going to do something he never thought even in his dreams, not to her at least. She was the best he ever had, and yet, his fears and cowardice won against his love and endearment for her.

"Lily, we need to..." He started, stopping in the middle to glance at her.

She blinked at him, a thin gap between her parted lips as she regarded him, waiting for him to continue.

His eyes softened, not in a loving, admiring way, but in a regretful, remorseful way.

"What?" She leaned ahead with a curious smile, her hands falling onto her lap.

"I think we should...." He couldn't utter his next words. His heart thumped in his chest loudly, his stomach dipping with heaviness, anxiousness tensing his entire senses, his skin burning with the flames of his own words even when the air around him was cool.

Her smile wavered, her gaze dilating with the heaviness of the words left unsaid, her toes curling tensely. It was as if she predicted what he was going to say, but she didn't let herself give in to the negativity. Her calm composure fought against the burden of sadness that enveloped her.

"We should?" She swallowed, her heart falling slowly to the ground.

He looked away, leaning back just a little to look around, salivating his lips-a last attempt to grasp himself.

"We should break up," He finally let the words out.

Her smile faltered completely, her pupils expanding, her mouth letting out a light gasp, not believing his words.

"What do you mean?" She breathed out, her heart pacing up.

"You know what I mean," He replied, his voice weighing with guilt and sadness.

"No. You have to be kidding with me-" Her voice broke, her eyes glistening, her fingers curled into tight fists as if to not lose herself in all the heavy emotions that pooled within her.

A moment of silence passed between them, the sounds of people chattering fading in the background somewhere, she could only hear her ragged, uneven breaths and his words, his painful, heart-wrenching words.

She looked down at her lap, keeping her one hand on the table as she tried to control her breath.

He didn't sound like he was joking. Or even if he was, he would've broken from character till now.

He didn't. And that was all it needed for her to let it sink in.

"Why..." She muttered more to herself, her eyes turning blurry, the middle of her palm pressed to the edge of the table.

He exhaled a deep breath, taking her hand in his, stroking her skin with his thumb softly.

"I'm sorry,"

"You can't do this," She shook her head, her voice broken, shattered, just like her heart.

He didn't say anything, continuing to caress her hand, giving her the warmth she needed.

He knew he wouldn't be able to have it again, to have her again. It was the last time he was this close to her, it was the last time he would see her, hold her, have her.

Her tears cascaded down her cheeks, stopping at her jaw and then falling to her lap as she cried silently.

It broke his heart back then, and it broke him now too.

"Can I only care when I have rights over you, Lily?" He asked, stepping closer to her.

She blinked at him.

"Yes," She replied, grabbing the hem of his jacket, and pulling him close to her, "why don't you take your rights back then?" She stared into his eyes, catching him off guard.

The look in her eyes set him ablaze, making his blood rush to the places he didn't want it to.

His gaze fell to her lips, remembering when he had them between his own. Sweet moments, bitter memories.

He had to look away to keep himself from leaning in and claim her again.

He took her hand which was holding his jacket, turning around.

"Let's get you home, it's late," He walked to his bike, pulling her with him as she trailed behind him.

-----

He opened the door of her apartment. She was tipsy, tripping on her feet, doubling over, and losing balance now and then.

"I don't want to be here," She whined in her drunk, sleepy state, her eyes almost closing.

She turned around to leave only to trip on her high heels. Warren grabbed her by the waist, pulling her towards him as her back hit his front.

She leaned into him, into his touch, into his warmth.

"You are still the most comfortable bed I could have," she pressed herself into him, wanting to sink and lose herself in his ocean.

He breathed out, his heart fluttering at their proximity, throbbing against his chest like a hammer, ready to come out any moment.

He stepped back, detaching himself from her.

Grabbing her arm, he pushed her to the wall for support. She kept her blurry gaze on him as he crouched down to undone her heels.

His hand would subtly graze over her skin with delicate softness, her stomach doing flips at his small touches even though she was high and tipsy.

He stood up straight, circling his arm around her waist and carrying her to her bedroom.

She doubled over her steps quite a few times but didn't fall due to him holding her protectively, her eyelids drooping down with heaviness.

He laid her on the bed, her eyes almost closing but she still tried to keep them open a little, as if to take in his beautiful sight to the maximum she could, as if she feared he'd disappear if she let herself fall into slumber.

He tucked her under the blanket, turning on the AC, and switching off the lights from the board beside her bed. The soft glow of the lamp was the only source of light, its golden hue shining on her face in different shades.

He straightened himself, the odd, bitter feeling never leaving him once he stepped into the apartment. His mind replayed the memories again, the memories which he created with her, in the same place, in the same room.

His chest was tight, his heart was churning in angst and sorrow, and his limbs felt numb under the weight of emotions.

He needed to leave.

He looked at her-one last look, he promised himself.

Bad decision.

She was looking at him, and he felt himself floating in the hollowness of those ethereal, magnetic green eyes.

"Are you going already?" She asked meekly, her voice soar and low, her eyes coated with longing and affection.

She loved him way too much.

"Yeah," He nodded, sighing.

Her lips didn't move for a while, but her eyes were enough to talk.

She didn't want him to leave. Not yet. Not ever.

"Stay here for the night," She proposed, her voice so vulnerable and weak, it made him want to break down to the instant.

Tears welled up in his eyes, a lump choking his throat, his heart sinking.

He took a deep breath in, barely controlling himself.

He missed her. He missed her so much.

"Lily, I need to g-"

"Please..." She blinked at him, her eyes-oh those eyes, brimming with unsaid emotions, gazing at him longingly, drawing him closer to her second by second, begging him to stay.

She scooted back a little, giving him space.

He hesitated but agreed nonetheless.

Last time, for the very last time. He said to himself. Last time he would hold her, last time he'd lay beside her, last time he would let his love win over his weakness, last time he'd let her win over himself.

He slipped out of his shoes and jacket and lay beside her. She gazed at him with a mix of surprise and admiration, she didn't expect him to agree.

"Close your eyes," He told her, his body itching to draw closer to her.

She smiled. It wasn't a big, wide smile. Just a small, tiny smile-one which came after accepting that she wasn't hallucinating the moment in her drunk state, but he actually, really and truly was at her apartment, in her room, on her bed, beside her, in front of her, close to her.

She wrapped her hand around his torso, leaning towards him, snuggling her face in the crook of his neck, having his warmth brace around her, bathing in his addictive scent of leather and musk.

He lay there frozen, not moving, not blinking, not knowing what to do, what was happening.

For a moment, it felt like a dream, as if he was picturing it in his mind, as if she was the pillow he hugged daily at night and thought of her, as if she was one of the hallucinations, one of the delusions, one of his own created imagination he made for his comfort.

He only believed it when he felt her heart beating against his chest-slow, rhythmic, and soothing.

Too ethereal to be real, too peaceful to be unreal.

He sucked in a breath, wrapping his hand around her mid back, pulling her close, pushing his one leg between hers, holding her tightly as he closed his eyes-knowing he'll sleep peacefully after a long time, and knowing he'll leave her again before she even wakes up.

-----

"How long are you going to keep on staring at me like a hawk?" Hayat dropped the spoon in the bowl, her eyes furrowed in a tight, irritated frown, glaring at him as he sat at the corner edge of the bed, far from her, staring at her with a void look.

"I need to ask you something," Tiger said.

"Then ask. I don't charge to answer, you know," She made a face, rolling her eyes and shoving a spoonful of fried rice in her mouth.

She knew she pissed him, but that makes them two. Because he wasn't any less of a bastard.

His eyes always made her uncomfortable, and when he looked at her like that, she felt like he was just right in front of her, too close to her, pinning her in his hold, even when there was a mile distance in between them.

Tiger exhaled, giving her time to finish the remaining food before he could proceed with his question.

"What do you know about Black Den?" He asked, her eyes fluttering to him instantly, wide and a bit shocked.

That answered his first unasked question. Did she know about Black Den? She did.

She said nothing in response, her eyes gazing at him without movement.

The silence was all that could be heard.

Slow.

Mysterious.

Unnerving.

It took her time to grasp his words. Nobody knew about that place, nobody other than DK. He never disclosed it even to his men, nor his alliances, or acquaintances. It was a secret he kept only to himself, butchered people, and killed her father for. She knew what that place held, and why DK valued it so much.

But to accept that the man in front of her was asking her about it, that he knew about it-even just the name, was something that threw her off guard.

"Why do you want to know?" She broke the silence, finally accepting the fact that someone from DK's clan knows about his secrets, secrets he will kill and die for.

"That's none of your business," He tilted his face, his eyes telling her to not pry.

But would she buy it?

Of course, not.

"Let me ask you something," A small, devil-like smile spread across her lips.

"What?" He raised his brows, tilting his face in what seemed like confusion.

"You are not from this gang, are you?" She asked, mockery rolling off her as she leaned back on the headboard, one eyebrow raised, a corner of her lips curved up in a smirk.

She suppressed the urge to smirk wide when his eyes narrowed on her, something dark, veiled, and mysterious flashing in his eyes. Even just for a split second, she saw him react-little, unperceivable yet evident and clear.

"Do not try to cross your limits," The threat in his eyes warned her.

"We both know who's crossing the limits right now," She kept the bowl to the side, folding her hands in front as she tilted her head, amusement dancing on each feature.

"And you being so affected by this question proves that indeed, you're doing shady stuff behind your boss's back,"

"He is not my boss," Tiger spat, his deep voice stern.

"That's what I am saying. DK isn't your boss," She sat up straight, looking into his eyes directly as the smile on her face disappeared slowly, seriousness and a straight look masking her soft features.

"Tell me now, who do you work for, Mr. Foxy Eyes?" She asked, her tone dropping to a pitch, sounding husky and deep.

"For the second time, it's none of your fucking business, Ms. Hayat," He glared at her, his eyes ablaze, flaming, and destructive yet she knew he would not harm her.

She had come to know him this much. He meant no harm to her, at least not physically. Her interest always pricked at his way of handling her. He was nothing like all the men she had dealt with. He was different, way too different. He killed, he murdered, he was mean, quiet, dangerous, ruthless, and obnoxiously horrible. All the same as his kind-like people. Yet, there was something about him that made a difference between him and DK's other men or even every mob gangster.

She sighed, looking away and leaning back again, snuggling herself in the soft pillow.

"What will be my benefit in this?" She whispered, scratching her middle finger's nail with her thumb.

"What?" Tiger tilted his face slightly, trying to figure out what she said.

"If I tell you about the Black Den, what will I get in return?" She blinked at him like a cat, fake innocence covering her face as her lower lips pressed against her upper one in a small pout.

She had the face of a baby, and the mind of a witch.

Deadly combination.

"Real talk. Nothing is free in this world. Everything demands a price," She ran her fingers through her beautiful, silky brown locks, making him look away instantly.

She smirked.

"What price you're gonna pay me to not bet your life on a coin?" She raised her eyebrows smoothly, kept her elbows on the pillow on her lap, putting her chin on the back of her folded fingers as she blinked at him.

His face tilted ever so slightly, his eyebrows lifted faintly for a split second, a barely perceptible spark flashing through his whiskey eyes- and she noticed a corner of his lips curve upwards. Does that count as an expression? She didn't know, but she did observe an emotion in his eyes which were more intense now, though still controlled.

Was he impressed? He seemed like he was.

"Let's make a deal, then," He proposed, that deep voice of evil washing over her as she waited for him to continue.