"It all makes sense now," Wesley muttered through gritted teeth, more to himself than to anyone else.
"No wonder you've been hard to reach lately, Sasha. I'm out here thinking everything's fine—anwhile, you've been letting this asshole take you out behind my back?"
Sasha opened her mouth, but no words ca. Her heart was pounding.
She hadn't ant to hurt anyone. She hadn't even thought things through.
It had all started off so simple—just a few dates. A distraction. A curiosity.
But Ross had a way of making her feel seen in a way Wesley never had. It had spiraled before she could stop it.
"You're embarrassing yourself," Ross said coolly, breaking the silence.
He wasn't mocking, but his words cut deep. "Put your ego back in your pocket before soone gets hurt."
That was the last straw.
"Fuck you, Ross!" Wesley shouted, his voice cracking under the weight of rage and betrayal.
And then, without warning, he reached into his jacket and yanked out a pistol.
Gasps echoed around the park as a few bystanders, who had started to take notice of the escalating argunt, scattered for cover.
Birds flapped away from a nearby tree as the tension exploded into chaos.
Sasha scread.
Ross didn't flinch. His gaze locked on Wesley, cold and focused.
He had seen this kind of recklessness before—guys who let their emotions rule their actions, who brought weapons to solve problems they didn't understand.
But this wasn't the ti for bravado. One wrong move, and soone could die.
"Don't be stupid," Ross said, his voice sharp now, commanding. "You pull that trigger, and your life is over. Not just because of what'll happen to —but because of what'll happen to you."
Wesley's hand trembled slightly. He hadn't expected Ross to stay calm.
He wanted him to panic, to back off, to show fear.
But Ross wasn't giving him that satisfaction.
And Sasha—her voice finally returned—stepped forward, her face pale. "Wesley, please… put it down. This isn't you. Just—just stop."
For a mont, everything hung in the balance.
And then…
"Fuck you! Go to hell first!" Wesley shouted, his voice cracking with rage and desperation.
He wasn't thinking anymore. Reason had long since left him.
In that mont, he did what far too many foolish, jealous boyfriends had done before him—he got stupid.
Bang.
Bang.
Bang.
The shots rang out in rapid succession, deafening and chaotic.
People nearby scread and scattered, ducking for cover.
Birds took to the sky in a flurry of wings. The air itself seed to split.
But Ross didn't flinch.
Each bullet missed him by re inches, whizzing past with deadly intent.
His eyes narrowed, not in fear—but in cold, focused resolve.
In the very next second, Ross dashed forward like a bullet of his own.
In a blur of motion, he closed the distance and was instantly upon Wesley.
His foot ca up hard and fast—a brutal kick straight to the groin.
Wesley cried out, his body folding in pain as he collapsed to the ground.
But Ross wasn't finished.
He dropped low, straddled him, and unleashed a storm of punishing blows.
His fists rained down on Wesley's face, knuckles cracking against bone with rciless precision.
Each punch was calculated, vicious, and full of a personal edge.
Ross had always taken special satisfaction in wrecking a pretty face like this—and Wesley's was no exception.
Blood splattered across the pavent as the handso features that once inspired envy were reduced to a swollen, broken ss.
"S-Stop…!" Wesley choked through broken lips.
But Ross didn't hear him—not through the red haze.
It was only when Sasha finally snapped out of her shock and rushed over that the assault ca to an end.
"Ross, stop! You're going to kill him!" she cried, throwing her arms around him from behind.
Her touch was soft, trembling, but firm. Ross froze, her voice cutting through his fury.
He allowed himself to be pulled back, his chest heaving as he glared down at the broken man beneath him.
A tense silence followed, broken only by Sasha's ragged breathing and Wesley's groans.
Then ca the sound of sirens in the distance—approaching fast.
Within minutes, flashing red and blue lights painted the scene.
Police officers stord in, weapons drawn, shouting commands as they secured the area and disard Wesley.
dics rushed to his side.
Ross stood tall, blood staining his knuckles, calm as ever.
Sasha looked up at him, eyes wide with conflicting emotions—fear, relief, awe. Ross didn't say a word. He didn't need to.
He'd made his statent loud and clear.
Ross was briefly questioned by the police, but they let him go soon after.
Multiple eyewitnesses backed up his story, and the nearby security caras had captured the entire incident.
It was a clear case of self-defense.
Wesley, on the other hand, wasn't so lucky. He was rushed to the hospital, escorted by officers who kept a close eye on him.
With the stunt he had pulled, jail ti was inevitable. Ross would make sure of it.
No amount of money or connections was going to save Wesley from the consequences—not this ti.
As the chaos settled, Ross turned to Sasha. "Co on. I'll take you ho."
They resud their walk in silence, the tension from earlier still lingering in the air.
Sasha's apartnt was close by, just a few blocks away.
The night had grown colder, quieter, as if the city itself was catching its breath.
When they finally reached her building, Ross turned to leave.
But just as he stepped back, Sasha reached out and caught his sleeve. Her voice was soft, barely above a whisper.
"Don't go. I don't want to be alone tonight."
It was the kind of request Ross had been expecting—perhaps even waiting for.
After what she'd just been through, it was only natural.
A near-death experience could shake even the strongest heart, and tonight, she didn't want to face the darkness by herself.
Ross looked at her for a long mont, then gave a small nod.
"Alright," he said gently. "I'll stay."
User Comments
0 comments from readers