Raiden Ferrara

I led her toward the open kitchen, no guards, no barriers, no traps. Just two people walking across polished floors beneath warm lights, as if tonight wasn’t built from blood and fire.

She followed slowly, still limping, arms folded over her chest like she wasn’t sure she was allowed to be at ease. I kept my pace relaxed, unhurried. Giving her time. Giving her space. But I still looked.

Her hair was damp from the shower, brushing gently against the collar of the oversized sweatshirt I’d given her. One of mine. It hung past her hips, sleeves too long for her wrists. The drawstring pants trailed near her ankles. She looked like someone tucked into someone else’s life.

And even with the swelling on her cheek, the bruises still blooming beneath her eye… she looked beautiful.

No.

Not just beautiful.

Breathtaking.

There was something about her that didn’t bend, despite the bruises, despite the silence. Something that made her seem stronger because she wasn’t trying to be.

I turned away before the thought stayed too long.

She sat at the island counter, eyes flicking cautiously around the space. I moved to the fridge and pulled out a few things, simple ingredients, nothing elaborate.

I didn’t usually eat this late. Most nights, food wasn’t even a thought. But tonight, I didn’t want her eating alone.

“You hungry for anything specific?” I asked, glancing over my shoulder.

She shook her head. “Whatever’s easy.”

“Then that’s exactly what you’ll get.”

I worked quietly, grabbing eggs, spinach, some soft cheese, bread. Something fast, healthy, hot. Nothing fancy but enough to feel like a meal. I moved on instinct, tossing things into the pan, toasting the bread, plating two simple dishes like I’d done it a hundred times before.

She watched me the whole time. Not intrusively. Just.. curiously.

Maybe she didn’t expect me to cook, maybe she didn’t expect any of this.

I set one plate in front of her then placed mine beside it before taking the seat across.

“You’re not eating just to be polite, are you?” she asked.

I gave a faint smirk. “I don’t do anything to be polite.”

That made her smile, barely, but enough for me to notice.

I reached for a bottle and poured her a glass. “We have water… and water,” I said dryly. “If you want anything else, I can make my men grab something.”

She picked up the glass. “Water’s fine.”

We ate in silence for a moment. The kind that wasn’t awkward, just thoughtful. Her shoulders slowly began to loosen, her posture less guarded than before.

“So,” I said finally, cutting through the quiet, “two weeks of rest.”

She rolled her eyes slightly. “That’s what she said.”

“You planning to listen?”

“Do I look like I have a choice?”

“You’d be surprised. Most people don’t take instructions well. Even when they’re bleeding.”

She shrugged, still chewing. “I’ve had worse.”

I didn’t press. But I was listening. Watching.

“Do you live around here?” I asked carefully.

She paused, then nodded. “I have a studio apartment in Brarson. I was staying alone.”

Not much, but it was something.

“Family?”

Another pause.

“My father. And a stepmother. We’re… not close.”

I nodded, making mental notes. “They know you’re missing?”

“They might’ve noticed by now. But I don’t think they’d call the police.”

“Why not?”

Another longer pause.

Her eyes flicked to mine, then away again.

“Because it’s not the first time I’ve gone off-grid. Especially around this time of year. And… I didn’t exactly leave a trace.”

I leaned back in my seat.

She hadn’t run away but she hadn’t been looking to be found, either. She could’ve told all of this to the police. But she hadn’t. Which meant either she didn’t trust them or she didn’t trust who might come looking.

That mattered.

“You don’t have to give me every detail,” I said quietly. “But if I’m going to keep you safe, I need to understand the threats.”

She looked at me then, really looked.

There was a softness in her gaze, but no naïveté. No illusions.

“I didn’t know who those men were,” she said slowly. “They grabbed me when I was on my way home. Said something about money. About debt. But it didn’t make sense.”

“And you’d never seen them before?”

“No.”

Her voice shook just slightly. But she steadied it.

“One of them said they weren’t going to kill me. Just hold me. Then use me to get what they needed.”

I didn’t interrupt.

“I think someone… someone I know might’ve had something to do with it,” she added. “But I don’t know who. And I didn’t want to guess. Not until I’m sure.”

Smart. Measured. She wasn’t reckless with her words. That alone made me trust her more than half the people I worked with.

“You don’t have to tell me more,” I said. “Not until you’re ready.”

Her shoulders dropped slightly.

“Thank you,” she said softly.

I didn’t reply.

I just pushed her glass closer. “Finish your water.”

She smiled again, just a little.

And for a second, just a second, this didn’t feel like a war zone anymore.