25.

They say life is all about twists and turns. You can never predict what will happen to you next. Sometimes, it goes just as you thought, and sometimes, it brings you what you never thought of, even in your dreams.

She stared in the distance absent-mindedly, at the dried grass on the ground, the swiftly swaying trees high in the air, the orange and yellow strokes decorating the sky and clouds, and his expensive, desirable BMW.

She sat at the outer stairs of the house, her knees clutched to her torso while her feet tapped against the next stairstep absentmindedly. Out of all the people, she never thought he would be the one who would help her. Now that she sees it, it was all his plan to work things out for himself, for whatever gambit he was on.

She wondered how this conflagration was happening behind DK's back and he had no idea about the downfall he was fated to get soon. DK was no man to be fooled or bluffed, he had destroyed empires of empires, slaughtered lives of thousands, and made his gang one of the most known ones in the underground world. He didn't just have connections, he had networks so vast and deeply rooted that no one dared to go against him, knowing the moment they turned their back on him, an arrow would pierce right through them; he held the kind of influence that could shake governments, silence enemies, and command armies without lifting a finger.

Then why could someone with such a powerful conglomerate not recognize his son's hidden knives pointed at him? How did he not know his gang assassins were after his ruin? Either they were so slick in their moves or DK believed them too much to hold them suspect.

It's been a few days since the deal had happened between them. Tiger hasn't asked her about Black Den or anything related to it yet, but he hasn't put the cuffs around her wrist since. He didn't limit her to just her crib, he also had Warren invite her to join the dinner with them, and when she walked out of the room the other day, he saw her but didn't say anything.

She had been roaming around the house—the kitchen, hall, and rooms on the ground floor—without any restrictions. She was finally feeling a little light, floating in the realm of her small freedom that he had allowed her—she felt like a human, being as a human, after such a long time.

"Coffee?"

She turned her face to the voice, finding Warren holding the two cups. She took one with a warm smile as he sat down just a step behind hers.

She took in the aroma of the hot coffee as it filled the air around her, watching the sun disappear second by second behind the far-stretched landscape of trees.

"What are you doing here alone by yourself?" She heard him ask while taking a sip from his mug.

"Nothing....just thinking about something.." She muttered, sipping the coffee, feeling the savoring warmness on her tongue, comforting her insides.

"Well...Have you ever been to bike races?" She noticed the barely contained excitement in his voice.

"No. I never got the chance to," She looked over her shoulder at him.

"In that case, do you want to go to one?" He wiggled his brows, leaning forward a little.

"Can I?"

"Of course. I will ask Tiger. That Big Cat has to agree first, then we can go together." He said.

"Is he going too?" She blinked at him wide-eyed, imagining Tiger on a bike. Did he like bikes too?

"I think so. He doesn't have much work for today anyway," She nodded.

"Does he race?" She tried to not let her interest and excitement for the brown-eyed guy to roll off through her tone.

"Bikes? Nah...I mean, he knows how to ride bikes but they are not...you know, his kind of thing." Warren responded distractedly, fixing his sitting position.

"He has an unhealthy obsession with cars though. Mainly Rolls Royce and BMWs," Warren added after a moment. She nodded, a smile forming on her lips that she tried to bite back.

He looks good while driving. She breathed in the smell of coffee, trying to distract herself.

Just good? She shook her head mentally, her cheeks heating up at the thought as she turned her face away, hiding her face in the curtains of her long bangs, not wanting Warren to think she was deranged or something to grow that red suddenly.

They drank the coffee in comfortable silence, slowly witnessing the landscape wearing the evening like a duvet. In those few fractions of minutes, her mind started to play again, showing her the images and scenarios, which she had seen and heard–dreading and awful to even be remembered. She tried to fluctuate her mind to something else, to shift the load of her thoughts to somewhere else. But when it worked, it worked wrongly.

Whiskey brown eyes....veiny hands....deliciously tan skin.....silky raven hair....obsession with guns and cars....closed-off behavior...cold attitude...unapproachable personality...

But he still showed her a bit of his gentleness that day, consoling her that it was okay to turn in the deal with him, that it was not embarrassing in any way, and that she had only protected herself by doing so.

She recalled the night when he had, or so she thought he had a nightmare. Looking down at the soft steam whirling out of the coffee mug and disappearing in the threads of her oversized grey hoodie, she fidgeted in her mind to ask about it to Warren, or even if he knew something about it.

She didn't know why she was so curious to know about it, maybe because it was about him. And for a while, she didn't question herself to feel such a depth of emotion for the guy. If she did, she knew she would force herself to restrain back from asking, and that would lose her a chance to know it, to feed that curiosity.

"Warren.."

"Hm?"

"Can I ask you something?" She turned her posture just a little while taking a deep breath, the uncertainty clear on her face, reflecting in the small shake of her voice.

"Yes...What is it?" Warren smiled, taking a sip from his mug.

"Earlier that night...when you secretly gave me the burger..you had told me that Tiger can wake up anytime," She couldn't speak without taking pauses, as if trying to put on the right words to get to the point but not being able to. It was the first time that she had taken his name, didn't use 'him' or any other referenceable names, and addressed him as 'Tiger'. And somehow, the word sounded so different, so distinct on her tongue.

"Yeah..." Warren trailed off. He looked at her with a knowing look, but yet an uncertainty was evident in his slightly tilted face and furrowed brows.

"Does he not sleep much or...?" She hesitated to complete the sentence. She kept her face down, afraid to turn behind, afraid to see the look on Warren's face.

Warren pursed his lips, contemplating the words that were stuck in his throat. But his loyalty was deeper than the urge to let those words out—and declare himself as a traitor.

"He wakes up after some time..."

Hayat could see the change in his voice, the irresolution wavering on his face. She nibbled on her lower lip, feeling the sweet taste of coffee on the tip of her tongue roll off as she pondered to know more.

Was it okay to know more? Was it okay to talk about him in his absence? To talk about his darkest, hidden sides without him knowing?

It probably wasn't. She knew for a matter of fact that it wasn't. But she still wanted to know about it, about him. She had this desire to know him differently than the world, to see him differently than the world did.

That night when she saw him shaking in his sleep, waking up with a jerk, and glancing at her instantly as if to assure himself that she didn't see him have the nightmare just then proved to her that there was more to him than what meets the eye. He, for sure, wasn't entirely what he appeared to be. Or maybe he was, but there was something that made him so insensitive and distant.

"Does he get nightmares too?" She asked out loud, her heart thumping in her chest with a steady yet loud rhythm.

Did she regret asking? She probably did. But the words had already left her mouth, they were already out in the open, floating in the soft caress of cool winds.

She couldn't take them back now. So, she just swallowed and waited for Warren to answer.

Warren didn't say anything for a moment. He took his time to collect the words that wouldn't hurt her in any way.

"I... do not know what got you to be curious about it, little one. But I cannot, I will not tell you that. It's not my place to do so. I hope you won't mind," He uttered every word with much care and cautiousness, his deep voice was a gentle flow of tenderness.

She nodded, a part of her was disappointed, but a part of her was content too. She was glad that Warren didn't tell her. It almost felt like a crime, the trepidation and guilt that were clawing at her skin now seemed to subside a little.

She admired Warren's loyalty towards the guy, adored his resistance, and respected him for his stance.

-----

She bit the insides of her cheek, her big eyes flickering between Warren and Tiger as she awaited the latter's approval.

She could say Warren was just as eager and anxious as her. They were in the Hall, resting on the couch when Warren and she exchanged a few restless glances before Warren pulled up the courage to ask him about her coming to the race with him.

Tiger seemed to be contemplating. He was either going to agree, or it would be a straight no. She prayed in her heart that he wouldn't.

"Do you want to go?" Tiger asked her directly, his eyes zeroed on her, hard and intense.

She felt herself drowning in the depth of his lingering gaze.

She nodded subtly, not responding verbally.

"Alright then," He stood up, giving his approval while he left for his room.

When he was out of sight, they squealed like teenagers who got their father's approval to go on a trip with friends.

"I thought he would say no," Warren cried in excitement.

When it was around eight in the evening, Warren gave her his black T-shirt, loose jeans, and a leather jacket to change into. She had combed her hair, bandaged the now almost healed wound on her thigh, and readied herself in the cool-looking clothes. She had to fold the pants a few inches at her ankle as usual.

When they were leaving, Warren asked her with whom she wanted to go with.

She glanced at the two guys, knowing that she would be uncomfortable with Tiger, he always makes her uncomfortable in a weird way, a very enigmatic way. Or if not, she knew he was not someone of many words. He will speak nothing but even so, she can't handle his cold aura and electrifying demeanor. She didn't want that for the night. She wanted to enjoy her best. This probably was going to be her first and last experience.

"I will go with you," she whispered to Warren.

She kept her distance while sitting behind him. Tiger was just behind them, keeping track like a police officer chasing thieves, except that his speed wasn't fast-paced. She could feel Warren wasn't taking much speed because she was behind him, yet the way he rode his bike was both bone-chilling and thrilling at the same time.

They finally arrived at the spot, she could hear the faint buzz of loud music in the background somewhere. Warren had left her with Tiger on the outside path as he had to take his bike in from a different entry for the race. After Tiger parked his car, they both walked side by side towards the heavily crowded entryway with people constantly exiting and making their way in.

There was such a wide crowd, crazy and wild. She also spotted a few foreigners which were probably Philippians and Africans. Boys wore jackets and hoodies while girls were famished in short stylish clothes and tank tops.

She nibbled on her lower lip, feeling self-conscious all of a sudden. She was wearing nothing like those girls around, not that she ever did, not that she wished to.

Her eyes automatically glanced at Tiger walking beside him, his eyes were ahead yet they were not settled on anyone for more than a split second. He wouldn't see anyone, specifically a woman, or trail his gaze toward their swaying hips for even a moment. She didn't know why that made her feel a little easy, but it did.

She felt the air growing hot the deeper they walked in the vast event. The smell of fuel, smoke, and sweat made her scrunch her nose. She has always disliked such a smell.

She walked close to Tiger, she didn't want to get lost in the bunch of strangers. She doesn't even have a phone nor does she know any of the both guys' numbers. The people rushing in and out in such haste and lose-mindedness were not helping. It had already a few times her shoulder had bumped into a few people, a few of them being men didn't bring her any ease. If anything, it disgusted her even more. She almost started to regret her decision to come there. She didn't expect such a massive horde.

"A minute of walking more and you'll be comfortable. Don't worry," He whispered close to her ear in his sinister, evil voice. Though it sounded plain and distant, somehow, there was a hint of gentleness in the way he spoke, the same kind of gentleness he had spoken to her with on the day when Nike tried to assault her, the one she hadn't heard in a long, long while.

He pulled her with the sleeve of her leather jacket when the entryway split and she was about to turn the wrong way. She was glad he didn't just abruptly grab her hand like always.

She saw the mass number of chairs and tables as they walked past the passage. A big screen was in the front, with people covering the few front chairs and tables while the others were sitting in the middle and back. She could see that the event, though underground and illegal, was well-organized and maintained.

She fisted her hand, and an anxious knot of nausea formed in her stomach. She fisted her sweaty fingers, keeping herself close to him as he walked side by side with her. He probably noticed her discomfort because every time a guy passed by her, his hand would automatically circle her arm, preventing her from getting touched.

He motioned towards an empty line of chairs. She shifted to the middle part, settling herself on the red plastic chair while Tiger sat beside the one next to hers. She scanned the whole place once again, her eyes settling on different objects and random strangers before she absentmindedly stared at a group of teenagers. One of the girls locked eyes with her. Her breath hitched, in a moment of haste and not knowing what to do, she smiled politely. A second passed and she almost, almost felt the embarrassment surging through her nerves. But before it could reach the surface and show on her face, the girl returned the smile even more warmly. She sat at a far end than her, but Hayat could see that she was pretty, exceptionally pretty.

She ducked her head in acknowledgment before turning her face away, smiling to herself.

"Where is Warren?" She asked Tiger who sat like a rock. How does he even manage to keep that straight poker face all the time? No expressions, no smiles, no nothing.

"You will see him soon,"

She rolled her eyes. That was not the answer to her question.

A few moments passed by in a blur as the seats were almost filled with the people. A loud thump echoed through the speaker before a guy's voice sounded through a mic.

"Are we all ready?!" A man's voice roared as the crowd cheered in excitement.

She covered her ears with her hands, not having strong enough eardrums to handle such crazy loudness. The fact it was the people who were capable of being so wildly loud amazed her. Even her classmates do not make much noise in the absence of professors.

"Let's start then, woohoo!! " the man behind the mic screamed, hiding somewhere in the system locations. She could only hear his voice through the speaker.

The crowd cheered again, this time with much more enthusiasm.

"Who have you bet on?" She heard the guy behind him ask someone. She didn't turn her face but leaned back her head to listen clearly.

"You know me, dude. Nobody beats Warren," The other guy replied.

The familiar name's mention inspired a wave of curiosity to surge through her.

The screen flashed with a picture of various expensive bikes standing in a straight line as the people around cheered and screamed like maniacs.

She wandered her curious gaze all over the big screen, her mouth agape in awe, living the new, thrilling experiences for the first time in her life. It excited her to look forward to the race but also made her glim that she probably won't ever experience it again.

The cameras were zooming into each of the bikers' faces. Although they were all wearing helmets over their heads, they were still recognizable as people, mostly girls cheered for their idols. Her eyes widened when a familiar pair of eyes and the black helmet came on the screen for merely five seconds.

It was Warren.

The guys behind her stood up, cheering loudly while chanting Warren's name with the crowd behind. She wanted to cheer like them too but her modesty and self-consciousness held her back.

"Oh my god, that was him!" She squealed excitedly, clutching her hands at her chest as the center shifted to the next biker.

She turned her face to the side involuntarily with a smile and excitement still so bright on her features. Her grin almost faltered to see Tiger having no reaction at all. As if he sensed her eyes on him, he looked at her.

She blinked with amused, wide eyes, pursing her lips and craning her neck away from him awkwardly. She never knew how to maintain eye contact with him and did not want to just surrender and drown in his whiskey, predatory brown orbs.

"Cover your ears," He muttered to her.

She blinked again, this time confusingly but brought her hands up to do so while eyeing him.

"Ready?"

She watched the screen with focus and astonishment as the bikers on the screen straightened themselves and positioned their bikes.

"Set!" The voice behind the mic remarked. The crowd had fallen silent a few seconds ago. Everyone kept their eyes open and mouth shut, their hearts beating in their chest, worrying about the bet they had made on the respective bikers and the thrill in their bones as the waves of chills ran across their skins.

She gulped, her palms still stuck to her ears as she waited for the final command to go.

"Go!' And a gunshot echoed with a loud, deafening bang. She flinched, shuddering meekly under the effect of the gunshot even when her ears were shielded.

It was not hard to understand that the event holder probably was a big mafia man like DK, that these youngsters were firing guns in the air with no care and getting away with it or perhaps the cops were bribed with enough money to allow that.

The bikers released their brakes as their bikes flung forward, a few taking the leads while some were behind. All of them were trying their best, using their skills and techniques to take over one another. Though the helmets restricted their facial expressions to the audience, it was tension in their body language and speeding bikes that was palpable to everyone watching it.

The drone was catching every detail so unmistakably that it would silence the whole crowd at once and then make them cheer loudly when their friends took the lead.

Her hands were now in the air on either side, her middle fingers lapped over her index one while all the others curled, her nails digging into the skin of her palm as she kept her undivided attention on the screen, not moving, not trying to blink.

She could see Warren behind riding with a smooth, steady speed. A frown edged on her face as she couldn't understand why he wouldn't speed up. There were three guys ahead of him. If only he speeds up like them, he'll be able to take over. She really wanted him to win. She only wanted him to win. No one other.

"What is he doing?" She muttered, nibbling on her lower lip and smashing her hands together on her lap.

"He is just playing," Tiger answered beside her. She stared at the screen, her lips formed into a frustrated pout, her brows knitted together tightly, her eyes narrowed to take in good view and keep track of the long-haired guy. She couldn't see him playing at all.

She started losing hope eventually. Two guys were still ahead of Warren, closing towards the end line. Warren wasn't even close to taking over them.

"Man the hell, isn't he supposed to speed up now??" The guy behind her rumbled in worry.

"Just wait and watch," the other guy replied.

She pursed her lips and crossed her fingers again, watching and waiting.

Her heart thumped louder as Warren took a speed. The guy and him now cutting each other while trying to reach the end which wasn't much far now.

It made sense now. Warren was just letting them think they could win until they were strutting in overconfidence and pride before he showed them who the real player was.

Her anxiousness increased more when both the guys on the screen would be excelling one another after every second. It didn't even feel like a race anymore, it looked like a battle.

Just a few meters were remaining to the end line. The opponent of Warren was ahead once again. She bit the insides of her lower lip, tightening her crossed fingers and tapping her foot on the carpeted ground restlessly.

Please, let Warren win. Let Warren win. She prayed in her heart continuously.

Her eyes widened when the opponent hit was just a meter away from touching the ribbon. She almost believed that Warren was not going to make it. But just when the other guy was half a meter away from achieving the win, Warren's bike stormed forward like lightning. The red ribbon tore up from an end, sticking to the bike and waving across with the wind.

The crowd behind and ahead of her stood up, cheering and screaming in applause and victory. The guys behind her, along with a few others, stood on their chairs, clapping and whistling in grand win and enthusiasm.

She was grinning while looking around at the happy cheerful crowd, clapping silently. She was happy her prayer was answered. She was glad she rooted for him to win and he did.

She remembered a guy was sitting beside her too whom she had forgotten all this while. Acting on the thought, she turned her face to the side. 

Oh...

His face was turned towards her too, but his eyes...his eyes weren't on her. They were in her direction, but not meeting with hers. She realized they were somewhere back, perhaps over her shoulder.

She felt her back burning, as if someone was looking at her, boring holes in her skin. She tried to crane her neck back slowly in an attempt to see where Tiger was looking at.

Before her face could turn wholly, his hand cupped her cheek. She paused, her heart almost came out of her chest. He was still not looking at her. His gaze still lingered somewhere over her shoulder.

She swallowed, blinking at him with wide eyes. The warmth of his palm on her cheek on a chilly night was like a caress of a warm shower in the winter mornings—soothing and gentle—a moment you want to keep living, a feeling you want to keep feeling, a sensation you want to keep having. And if only, if only she didn't fear the deadly consequences on the Day of Judgement, she would've leaned in his touch, and savored the sweet moment.

He retreated his hand back, moving his gaze to her, meeting her dazed, enticing eyes.

She gathered herself before he could catch the desire, the effect in her eyes of him, inspired by him. She would rather die than have him know about her 'complicated feelings' for him.

It's beyond complicated. When it came to him, nothing was ever so easy to understand or figure out. Everything about him, related to him, of him, was complex.

"What is it?" She whispered.

"No one," He straightened back on his chair.

So, there was someone. He replied 'No one' for 'what is it'. She was sure there was someone. But she chose to not pry much.

------

"It's so huge and beautiful," She was in awe looking at the trophy. It felt heavy in her hands, decorated with colorful bands and Warren's name, the date of the event, and a message that read 'to the ever shining biker' engraved on it.

"You like it? I have so many like this at my house," Warren chuckled as he took his seat in front of her at the table.

"Really?"

"Yes. If we ever get the chance, I'll take you to my penthouse and show them all to you." Warren said.

The event also organized a buffet system. They both were now at the dining area after playing a few games and roaming around the event. He had accompanied her in the Ferris wheel and Swinger while Tiger just stood at the ground, refusing to join them. Warren had teased him for being a scaredy-cat until Tiger shot him a glare and he zipped his mouth instantly.

They both were eating when Tiger walked in and took his seat, cutting the call he was on earlier.

"Where were you?" Warren asked, his words coming out muffled as he munched on the fried chicken in his mouth.

"Was taking care of some shit,"

He took a fork for himself from the spoon holder, digging into the chicken, and taking a bite from the plate Warren kept for him.

She took the bottle of water, using it as an excuse to look at him. She sipped slowly, taking her time to trail her gaze over him. She spotted something dark on his arm, just above his elbow.

Blood? It looked like it. But she wasn't sure. Maybe just a stain.

"Eat your food, squirrel," His eyes met hers suddenly.

Oh God. How did he know she was looking at him?

She gulped, not sure if it was water or fear. She felt herself sinking to the ground.

She tore her eyes away from him, looking down at her food, feeling no appetite to finish the remaining food on her plate.

------

"Look who's here," Warren turned around to the source of the voice. His eyes instantly darkened at the displeasure sight of a guy styled in leather jeans and a red race jacket.

The guy smirked at him, his execrable eyes shining with lechery, eyeing Warren up and down with wickedness along with the two guys behind him.

Warren's jaw tightened, his fingers curling in fists at his sides as he decided to gracefully ignore the latter and his group, walking away from them without creating any fuss.

"Ah...where are you going?" The guy grabbed his wrist.

"Don't touch me, you asshole." Warren jerked his hand away, throwing him a very threatening glare which momentarily scared the guys.

"Come on, Warren. Don't be so rude," The guy came face to face with Warren, his malicious gaze was witty enough to torrent a wave of disgust and abhorrence, inspiring a side of him to upsurge insidiously.

Warren dug his nails into his palms, trying to withhold himself from losing his control. There were people around. It was a public place. He couldn't do it there. He just couldn't.

Don't react. He just needed to keep his calm, not respond, not reply. And it would be just fine.

"Fuck off, Tyler. You don't want to rot here with your neck split open, do you?" Warren threatened, his eyes zeroed on the guy, trying his best to not act on what he had just said. Tyler chuckled while his friends laughed.

"Acting cool, I see." Tyler stepped an inch closer to Warren, a smirk playing on his lips as he continued, "Or are you just a coward trying to hide under the mask of fake confidence, huh?"

"At least I'm not a pedophile like you, raping children and killing them afterward," Warren spat with gritted teeth, the black in his eyes darkening even more, if that was possible, by each second.

When Tyler didn't reply, he knew he had hit the spot. He turned to leave and started walking away.

"Children give in more easily. Don't you remember yourself?"

Warren halted, the words ringing in his ears, pushing him to the edge until there only remained a very thin line—a line which was fading slowly, deliberately—letting the dark smoke of evil and hunger for revenge linger in him.

He knew, that if he did not move the very next second, he would lose it. He will do exactly what he had been holding himself back from. But oh boy, was it too late? His hands had started to itch, his eyes had been asking for that sight of a red cut just in the middle of the neck with blood rushing out of it, his insides were starving of the sinister satisfaction, and his hunch was hungry for something as bad as himself.

Then this was it.

He had the knife, they had the life—something they would lose in a flicker of seconds now.