Zavian's POV:

The bike roared beneath me, its engine a living, breathing thing, hungry for the road. I could feel the rush of adrenaline in my veins as I pushed the limits, watching the world blur around us. But something was different tonight. She was there, clinging to me with those soft, delicate hands, and I couldn't ignore the pull of her warmth against my back. Her body, her breath, her presence—it was all so close. Too close.

And yet, I couldn't stop. I wouldn't stop.

I stole a glance at her—her face flushed with the thrill and the speed—but there was something else in her eyes. Something that caught me off guard, something fragile that made my stomach tighten.

Was she scared?

My thoughts started to race. Was she holding on because of the thrill, or was it fear? I could feel her hands tightening on my shirt, but I couldn't tell if it was from excitement or from trying to steady herself.

I leaned down slightly, my focus shifting between the road and her, and that's when I saw it.

A tear. Just one. But it was there, glistening at the corner of her eye.

Shit.

My heart dropped into my stomach. What the hell did I do?

Was she crying because of me? Was it the speed, the unpredictability, or something else? I couldn't bear the thought of making her feel like that—especially not after everything. The last thing I wanted was for her to feel vulnerable in my presence.

"Fuck," I muttered under my breath, my hand tightening around the throttle. I could feel the guilt rising in my chest, squeezing the air out of my lungs. I didn't know why, but I needed her to be okay. I needed her to feel safe. To feel right.

I swerved smoothly into a quieter street, slowing the bike down, my eyes flicking to the rearview mirror, watching her closely. The silence between us felt heavy, like it was hanging in the air, just waiting for me to say something. Anything.

I pulled over to the side of the road and stopped the bike, the engine rumbling as it slowly faded to a stop. My heart was pounding, but not from the speed anymore. This was different.

I turned my head slightly, glancing over my shoulder at her, but it felt like my body was frozen in place. "Mashal," I said, my voice uncharacteristically gentle, "You okay?"

Her face was still turned away from me, but I could see the tension in her shoulders, the way her hands were still gripping me, as if unsure whether to let go. She didn't answer right away, and that silence stretched too long for my comfort.

My chest tightened. I had to know.

I turned off the engine, sliding my helmet off as I slowly got off the bike, not wanting to startle her, but feeling like I needed to get closer. I reached a hand out, and for a brief second, I just let it hover over her, waiting for her to meet my eyes.

"I didn't mean to scare you," I said, my voice softer than usual. "If I—if I did, I'm sorry. You know I wouldn't hurt you, right?"

I wasn't sure why I was saying it, but it felt like I needed to. Something inside of me needed to make sure she knew that I would protect her, that no matter what, I would never be the cause of her pain.

She finally looked at me, her eyes red-rimmed, and I felt my heart stop for a split second. The sight of her like this... It hit me harder than anything else ever had.

"Mashal," I said again, my voice low, almost desperate, "What happened?"

I couldn't shake the feeling that somehow, I had broken something fragile in her.

And now I wasn't sure how to fix it.

She blinked twice, and for a split second, I thought I saw something in her eyes—something deeper, something vulnerable. But then she wiped at them, her voice sounding steady again, though there was a hint of irritation in her words.

"I think there's something in my eye," she said, her hand reaching up to rub at it, and I swear I could feel the tension leave my body the moment she spoke.

I exhaled sharply, trying to shake off the worry that had been gnawing at me. Of course, she wasn't crying. Of course, she was fine. She was tough.

Still, the weight in my chest didn't completely lift as she continued, her tone laced with frustration. "You drive too recklessly. I had half a mind to jump off."

A low chuckle escaped me, but it didn't quite reach my eyes. I couldn't help it—she had a fire in her, and I loved that about her. Even when she was pissed, she had this way of making everything feel... electric. But something in her voice made my gut tighten, and I couldn't shake the nagging feeling that I'd pushed her too far this time.

"You think I'm reckless?" I asked, taking a step closer to her, my eyes narrowing in playful challenge, though beneath that, I was still trying to piece together what had just happened. "You know, I didn't hear you complaining when you were hanging on for dear life back there."

I caught her eye then, and for a second, there was something there—a flicker of vulnerability, maybe? I couldn't quite place it, but damn if I didn't want to. It drove me crazy, that look, the way she could go from fierce to... well, whatever the hell that was.

I stepped closer, close enough to see the way her lips were still trembling, though she was trying to hide it. Damn. The guilt started to creep in again. "I'm sorry, alright?" I muttered, and the words came out more quietly than I expected.

She raised an eyebrow. "Oh, you're sorry now?"

I could feel her testing me, the way her walls came up again, and it only made me more determined. "Yeah, well, I don't want to be the reason you jump off a moving bike, so..." I trailed off, my voice low, not quite sure how to finish the thought.

I wasn't used to apologizing. Especially not for something like this. But the thought of her being scared, of making her feel out of control... it messed with me more than I cared to admit.

"You okay now?" I asked again, the words slipping out before I could stop them, my hand hovering near her arm, like I was waiting for her to shove me away or push me to move. I didn't know which one I was expecting more.

But I was there, right there, hoping she didn't say anything that would make me pull away.

"I'm never sitting on this again, with you being the driver," she muttered, glaring at me.

Her words hit me like a damn brick wall. I couldn't help the smirk that tugged at my lips, but beneath that, something else stirred. She was pissed, and I couldn't blame her—hell, I'd be pissed too if someone drove like I did.

She glared at me, her eyes fierce, the way she always got when she was frustrated. That fire. I loved it.

But damn if it didn't make me feel... something I wasn't used to. The way she stood there, her arms crossed, still shaking off the adrenaline from the ride, it got to me in a way I wasn't ready to admit.

"Never, huh?" I couldn't help the low chuckle that escaped me, though my voice was rough, a little more serious than I intended. "You sure about that?"

I took a step closer, but this time, I didn't press it. The cocky edge of my grin faded slightly, replaced by something darker, more thoughtful. I could see her fighting the urge to keep pushing me away, but she was still there, still here.

"Don't tell me you're scared," I teased, though there was a softness to it now, something I didn't normally allow myself to show. "I thought you liked living on the edge."

She rolled her eyes, but I saw the way her chest rose and fell, her breath still shaky from the ride. I leaned in, just a little, wanting to see if I could catch her off guard, make her soften.

"Come on, Mashal. You know you're not getting rid of me that easily," I said, voice quieter now, with a hint of challenge in it.

But I wasn't just teasing her now. I was looking at her—really looking at her—and damn, if it didn't make everything feel like it was shifting.

The tension between us was thick enough to cut through with a knife, and for a moment, I didn't care about the cocky lines or the smart retorts. I wanted to know what she'd say next, how far this would go, where we would go.

Her glare softened just slightly, but she didn't back down. "Don't expect me to be on this damn bike again anytime soon."

"Guess I'll just have to try harder next time, huh?" I said with a wink, as I stepped back. I saw the slight shiver run through her, but I didn't comment on it. Instead, I just kept my eyes locked on hers, daring her to say more, to tell me to go.

But I wasn't going anywhere.

"Over my dead body," she huffed, fixing her hair.

Her words were laced with defiance, and damn, did it make me want to push her even further. I caught the way she huffed, fixing her hair like she was trying to regain some control, and for a second, I couldn't help but admire how stubborn and fiery she was.

"Over your dead body?" I raised an eyebrow, taking a slow step toward her, my gaze never leaving hers. "Well, that's a bit dramatic, don't you think?"

I watched as she straightened up, trying to act unaffected, but I could see the way her hands trembled ever so slightly. She was still trying to play it cool, trying to mask whatever was still buzzing beneath the surface. But I was a master at reading people, and Mashal-e-Mehtaab? She was no different.

I leaned in a little closer, my voice low and teasing. "You know, I kind of like it when you get all sassy with me. Means I'm getting under your skin."

She rolled her eyes, but that didn't stop the rush of satisfaction I felt at seeing her so rattled. I wasn't about to back off, not when she was this close to cracking.

"You can glare all you want, sweetheart," I said with a smirk, "But we both know you'll be back on Reaper sooner or later."

I didn't need her to admit it. The way she looked at me—challenging, frustrated, but still there—told me everything.

"I think that woman of yours wasn't wrong. You are dangerous," she said, her arms crossed, her eyes daring me to challenge her. Siera. I knew she wasn't wrong, but hearing it from my Mashal-e-Mehtaab... it made something in me twitch.

The way she said it—like she was trying to throw my own reckless nature in my face—that made the anger flare up. The calmness I usually wore like armor started to crack, and suddenly, I was on edge, the heat of the moment sinking in.

A cruel smirk found its way to my lips, and I couldn't resist leaning in closer. "Oh? She wasn't wrong, sweetheart."

Hesitation flashed in her eyes, the way she shifted under the weight of my stare. She was strong—too strong for her own good—but even I could see the flicker of uncertainty in the way she was holding herself.

"Afraid?" I asked, my voice dangerously low, and for a second, I saw the tension tighten in her posture. I leaned in closer, not backing down, wanting to push her just enough.

She met my gaze and straightened, her eyes hardening, and her voice sharper than before. "Watch your tone, Zavian."

That damn tone. It grated on my nerves more than I cared to admit. I couldn't help the humorless laugh that escaped me. "Don't teach me what to do, Iman," I said, my voice colder now, the space between us crackling with anger.

Her eyes narrowed at me, almost daring me to go further. "Why are you so offended? You don't understand sarcasm or what?" she shot back, blinking as if to dismiss the rising tension.

Something in me snapped at that. Who the hell did she think she was? I had every reason to be pissed, and now she was making it seem like I was the one who needed to calm down?

I took a step closer, my gaze hardening, my voice dropping into a menacing growl. "And who are you to joke around with me?" I said, low and dangerous, making sure she could hear the weight behind every word.

Her face flushed, the anger in her eyes mixing with something else, something I couldn't quite place. But the defiance was still there, fighting back the way I pushed her.

We stood there, the air thick between us, and I could feel the raw intensity of the moment crackling like a storm on the edge of breaking. I was angry. She was angry.

But I wasn't backing down. I don't know why I was so offended when all she said was the truth. I was dangerous. For her. For myself.

She opened her mouth to say something, but before she could, I stepped back, running a hand through my hair, my jaw clenched. I wasn't hurt by her words. I wasn't. But God, she was this close to making me lose it completely.

I watched her closely, my eyes never leaving hers. She could try to act unaffected, but I could see the way her chest rose and fell with the tension, how her hands clenched and unclenched.