Orion’s POV

The figure stood across the road, his sharp, unmistakable silhouette striking against the mid-morning sun. My pulse raced, and rage surged through me as recognition set in. Him.

The man I’d been hunting for so long—the man whose actions had destroyed so much of my life—stood there, calm as ever, watching me like a predator assessing its prey. My fists clenched at my sides as the years of suppressed anger bubbled to the surface.

The crowd shifted around us, people brushing past like ghosts as the world narrowed to just him and me. His lips curled into a smirk, a taunt that sent fury coursing through my veins. Why now? Why here?

Every bitter memory of that day came rushing back. If he and his goons hadn’t beaten me to a bloody pulp and left me to die, I would have made it to my wedding. Ava wouldn’t have had to endure years of torment, and maybe—just maybe—my life wouldn’t have spiraled out of control. And then there was Chloe…

I shook the thought away, my jaw tightening as I took a step forward. He didn’t move, didn’t flinch—just stood there with that same infuriating calm. I quickened my pace, but just as I reached the edge of the street, the blaring sound of car horns erupted behind me.

I turned instinctively, my body tensing as two cars collided mere feet from where I had been walking. The chaos exploded in a flurry of shouts, drivers cursing, and passersby rushing to intervene. I whipped my head back to the spot where he had been standing, but the street was empty.

“No,” I muttered, my heart pounding. I scanned the area frantically, turning in circles, searching for any sign of him. “No!”

He couldn’t have just disappeared.

I darted across the street, my eyes scanning every corner, every shadow. My breath came in quick, shallow gasps as I searched alleyways and storefronts, ignoring the bewildered looks from strangers.

Nothing.

The rage roared back to life, searing through me like wildfire. My hands shook as the weight of it all crashed down.

This was all his fault.

If he hadn’t targeted me all those years ago, my life wouldn’t have been thrown into chaos. I wouldn’t have lost Ava back then. I wouldn’t have been forced to rely on Chloe, who’d only complicated everything further.

Chloe.

A bitter taste filled my mouth as memories of her came flooding back. If she hadn’t shown up that day, would I even still be here? She saved me, yes, but at what cost?

My phone buzzed, pulling me from my spiraling thoughts. It was the driver I’d arranged to pick me up.

“Where are you sir?” he asked, his voice laced with impatience.

I forced myself to take a deep breath. “I’m on my way,” I said curtly before heading toward the meeting point.

When I finally reached the car, I slid into the back seat, my mind still racing. As the driver navigated the busy streets, my thoughts spun wildly.

Why was he here? Was this about me? Or Ava? What if this has something to do with the threats she’s been receiving? What if he’s using her to get to me?

The possibilities were endless, each one more unsettling than the last. My chest tightened as the car pulled up in front of the five-star hotel where the meeting was scheduled.

“Wait here,” I instructed the driver before stepping out.

The air was thick with tension as I entered the grand lobby. A uniformed staff member greeted me, leading me toward the private meeting room. I followed in silence, my thoughts still tangled.

As we rounded a corner, a waiter carrying a tray filled with a stack of drinks suddenly stumbled into me. Glasses shattered on the floor, and cold liquid soaked through my shirt.

“Damn it,” I growled, my fists clenching. The waiter stammered apologies, his face pale with fear. I took a deep breath, fighting the urge to lash out. “Just… forget it,” I muttered, storming past him.

By the time I reached the room, my shirt was ruined, and my mood was even worse. I shoved the door open, eager to start the meeting so it can end quickly—only to stop dead in my tracks.

Sitting at the table, calm and composed, was Damien Cross.

I froze, my mind reeling. Damien. One of the few people who had helped me during my time in hiding. A business partner turned friend—until Chloe came between us.

Back then, Damien had accused Chloe of trying to seduce him, a claim I’d refused to believe. I’d been furious, convinced he was trying to take advantage of her. The confrontation had been explosive. I nearly destroyed his face with my fists that day, and we hadn’t spoken since.

But now, here he was, sitting across the table like nothing had happened.

“Hey! Long time no see, mate!” he greeted, starting to stand before his eyes landed on my soaked shirt. “What happened to you?”

I didn’t answer, my mind still stuck on our last encounter. The betrayal, the accusations, the rage—I felt it all over again.

And seeing him again, I started to wonder if he was right all along.

Damien raised his hands defensively. “Hey, man, you’re not still mad at me, right? I knew that if you found out I was the client you were supposed to be meeting, you would have canceled. But whatever happened, it's all in the past now.”

After a brief thought, I crossed the room, shaking his hand stiffly. “Nice to meet you again, Damien,” I said evenly, my tone betraying none of the storm raging inside me.

He raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment. Instead, he motioned for me to sit. “We’ve got to do something about that shirt,” he said, pulling out his phone. Moments later, someone entered with a pristine, custom-made shirt.

Damien’s influence was undeniable. His clothing brand was a symbol of affluence, catering only to the elite. The shirt handed to me was undoubtedly worth more than most people made in a month.

I rounded a corner, changed quickly, and returned to the table. Damien had already ordered food, and we spent the next few minutes catching up, though the conversation remained surface-level.

Finally, we got down to business. Damien laid out a proposal—a lucrative deal that could benefit both of us significantly. I listened intently, nodding at intervals, but my mind kept drifting.

When the discussion was over, Damien leaned back in his chair, a smirk playing on his lips. “So, I heard you’re married now,” he said casually. “And it’s not her—Chloe.”

My jaw tightened. “It’s… complicated,” I admitted. “I’ll explain when I’ve cleared some things off my desk.”

Damien’s expression turned curious. “What things?”

I hesitated, running a hand through my hair. “There’s been a threat. Against my wife,” I said finally. “I’m trying to figure out who’s behind it—and prove to her that I can protect her.”

Damien studied me for a moment. “And Chloe? How does she fit into all of this?”

A deep sigh escaped me. “I don’t know anymore,” I admitted. “But what I do know is that I love my wife. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep her safe.”

Damien nodded slowly, his gaze thoughtful. “You’ve changed, Orion. I hope, for your sake, that it’s for the better.”

Before I could respond, a sharp knock interrupted us. We both turned toward the door, and a sense of unease settled in my gut.

“Come in,” Damien called.

The door opened, and the tension in the room thickened.