I'm going to kill that motherfucker. Seriously. No hesitation, no second thoughts-just straight-up murder.

Dragging Blake to the hospital was like wrangling a goddamn bull. He fought me every step of the way, his stubbornness testing every shred of patience I had left. By the time we got there, I was practically ready to throw him onto the examination table myself.

The doctor, blissfully unaware of the shitstorm he was walking into, was too slow for my liking. I had to threaten-okay, nag-him to get every single test done on Blake. Blood tests, X-rays, scans-everything. And when the results came back? No broken bones, no fractured ribs-just some bruising on his face, chest, and abdomen. The doctor had the nerve to say it wasn't serious.

Not serious? Bruises on Blake were like battle scars on a goddamn war general. But I wasn't satisfied. Hell no. I demanded painkillers, practically breathing down the doctor's neck until he complied.

Still, one thing kept gnawing at me-why the fuck did these two idiots fight like their lives depended on it? What could possibly push Blake and Zinoviy to go full-on gladiator on each other? I needed answers, and I knew just where to start.

"Blake, wh-"

"Shut up," he snapped before I could even finish.

Of course. Classic Blake and his classic shut up. Sometimes he come up with some lazy excuse like boys' problem, or worse, he'd just give me one of those exasperated glares. God forbid I ask a reasonable question. Seriously? I begged Zoran to stop the fight, risked swallowing my pride to deal with that psycho, and this is how Blake repays me? I've noticed it before-the way he hides things from me. It's not subtle. He thinks he's sparing me, protecting me. But all it does is make me feel like a goddamn outsider.

I'm the oldest, for fuck's sake. I'm supposed to know what's going on. But maybe... just maybe, he doesn't trust me enough. Maybe he thinks I'm weak, that I'll shatter under the weight of the truth.

After the incident-the one that tore our lives apart-Blake changed. He became this overprotective, overbearing shadow. He stopped talking to me about real things. I wasn't his sister anymore; I was his responsibility. Sure, he'd tell me the happy, fluffy bullshit, but the hard stuff? Never.

His dog died. He cried-but not in front of me. I heard him sobbing through the walls. His girlfriend broke up with him, and he was devastated. Uncle Matthew had to take him on trips and shower him with distractions just to get him out of his funk. But when Blake talked to me? He acted like none of it mattered. Like it was his job to keep me smiling and unbothered.

He's my brother, my only family. And yet, he's this mystery I can't solve, this fortress I can't breach. He builds walls around his feelings, around his pain, and doesn't let anyone in. Not even me.

And then there's the flip side. The way he treats me. Keeps everyone at arm's length, especially anyone trying to get close to me. Fuck, I don't have a boyfriend until now. That's how tightly he's been managing my life.

But this, Him fighting Zinoviy? Of all people? Why? Why him? There's no way this is just a random scrap between guys. There's something deeper going on, something Blake isn't telling me. And it's driving me insane or more like my curiosity piqued.

"Blake, do not 'shut up' me. Spill it. What the hell happened?" I demanded, crossing my arms.

"None of your concern," he muttered, his tone cold enough to freeze lava.

Oh, hell no. This wasn't going to fly. I opened my mouth to snap back when Alexei, with his infuriatingly calm demeanor, stepped in.

"Blake, she's your sister. She has the right to know," Alexei said, his voice a perfect balance of authority and gentleness. "She's the one who tried to stop the fight, remember? She even pleaded with Zoran to stop."

Alexei's words hung in the air like a lifeline, cutting through the tension. His voice-it was like some magical ointment for my frayed nerves, soothing the ache Blake's indifference left behind.

If it weren't for Alexei and Sasha, I'd have lost my goddamn mind by now. They were the only reason I managed to drag Blake's stubborn ass to the hospital in one piece or get him back to our home. Without them, I don't think I could've handled him alone. Hell, I might've ended up in the ER myself after trying to knock some sense into him.

Blake let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his messy hair. "Look, Alex, I don't need a mediator. This isn't up for discussion."

"Not up for discussion?" I snapped, my voice rising. "Blake, you're my brother. If someone so much as breathes in your direction the wrong way, it's my damn business. And this-" I gestured toward the bruise forming on his jaw. "This is not something I'm letting slide."

His eyes narrowed, the same icy wall of defiance he always put up whenever I pushed too hard. "Vivian, I said drop it."

Alexei stepped in again, his calm voice like oil over water. "She's not asking to get involved, Blake. She's asking because she cares. You know that, don't you?"

Blake's jaw clenched, his silence louder than any words.

"See? Even now, you can't say it," I hissed, my hands balling into fists. "You never tell me anything anymore! You shut me out like I'm some stranger. I'm not a kid, Blake. I can handle the myself just fine."

"You can't handle shit, Viv," Blake snapped, finally losing his composure. "You think I don't see how you've been since...I'm protecting you. That's all I'm trying to do!"

His words hit me like a gut punch, the air leaving my lungs in a sharp exhale. Alexei's hand landed gently on my shoulder, steadying me, but it wasn't enough to stop the sting.

"You think hiding things from me protects me?" My voice wavered, but I forced myself to hold his gaze. "All it does is make me feel like I don't matter. Like you don't trust me to stand by you."

Blake's expression faltered for a split second before the wall went back up. "You wouldn't understand," he muttered, looking away.

"Then make me understand," I shot back, desperation seeping into my tone. "Tell me what happened with Zinoviy. Tell me why you were both ready to kill each other."

Blake opened his mouth to retort, but Sasha beat him to it, stepping forward with her arms crossed dramatically over her chest.

"Alright, alright, everyone take a deep breath and unclench. I'm about five seconds away from calling a referee and setting up a pay-per-view."

Both Blake and I turned to her, glaring.

"Oh, don't look at me like that. You two are giving off serious soap opera vibes right now, and not the good kind. We're talking daytime reruns level drama."

"Sasha," Blake growled, his tone low.

She held up a hand. "Nope. Not done. Vivian, honey, I get it-you're mad. Totally justified. But if Blake wants to keep his moody 'I'm a lone wolf, don't look at me' thing going, let him. He's clearly auditioning for the next Batman movie."

Blake groaned, rubbing his temples. "Sasha-"

"Hold on, I'm on a roll here." She turned to me, her expression exaggeratedly serious. "And you, Viv, you're doing great as the fiery lead in this family drama. But let's not forget one thing: this entire fight could've been avoided if someone-" she side-eyed Blake dramatically, "-learned how to use his words instead of his fists."

Alexei smirked, clearly amused. "She's got a point."

Sasha grinned, gesturing to Alexei. "Thank you! Finally, someone with taste."

Blake sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. "You're not helping."

"Oh, but I am. See, now no one's yelling, no one's crying, and most importantly, I'm entertained. You're welcome." She plopped down onto a nearby armchair, kicking her feet up. "Now, back to the regularly scheduled programming. Blake, spill the tea before I start making up my own version of events, and trust me, it'll involve aliens and secret love children."

Despite myself, I let out a huff of laughter, and even Blake's lips twitched like he was fighting a smile.

Sasha straightened in her chair, her eyes narrowing as she shifted her focus. "Speaking of emotional constipation, let's talk about Zoran for a hot second, shall we?"

Blake tensed, but Sasha was already on a roll.

"That cold-hearted ice prince let you-you, Viv-beg him like some tragic heroine in a telenovela. I mean, who even does that? Oh wait, I know. Zoran fucking Kalashnikov. The guy probably goes to bed hugging a block of dry ice and dreams about spreadsheets."

"Sasha..." Alexei sighed, though his lips quirked with amusement.

"No, no, Alexei. Don't 'Sasha' me. Let me have this moment." She turned to me, her expression the perfect mixture of indignation and dramatic flair. "Do you know what kind of rage I felt watching you plead with him? I swear, if you'd gotten down on your knees, I would've shoved his perfectly tailored ass into traffic."

Blake leaned against the wall, his arms crossed. "You hate him because he rejected you, not because of Vi."

"Oh, excuse me, Mr. I-Fight-First-Talk-Never." She pointed a finger at him, mock scolding. "This isn't about my personal heartbreak-although, yes, fine, he did reject me. And yes, I may have cried into a tub of Häagen-Dazs for an hour. But you know what, Blake? I'm a survivor. I moved on. Except..." She sighed dramatically, clutching her chest. "How can I move on when he's still lurking around with that broody face of his, hating everything, including puppies and probably world peace?"

I couldn't help but snort, and Blake muttered something under his breath, shaking his head.

"And another thing-" Sasha wasn't done yet, flipping her hair for emphasis. "How is it that Zoran freaking Kalashnikov, the man who can reject this-" she gestured to herself with both hands, "-still has the audacity to act like he's too good for everyone? Oh, I'm sorry, Zoran, are the rest of us mere mortals not worthy of your icy glares and disdainful silence? Shall I genuflect next time I see him?"

Alexei chuckled softly, finally speaking up. "Maybe he just didn't know how to handle your... energy, Sasha."

"Energy?!" Sasha gasped in mock offense, spinning toward Alexei. "Are you saying I'm too much? Because I'll have you know, I'm just enough. It's not my fault if Mr. Frostbite over there is emotionally unavailable and allergic to fun."

Blake groaned. "Can we stop talking about Zoran now?"

"No, we cannot stop talking about Zoran!" Sasha declared, standing up dramatically. "Not until everyone here acknowledges that he's the human equivalent of a black hole-dark, cold, and sucks the joy out of every room he's in. Oh, and one more thing-he didn't even look at me, Blake. Not once. I was standing right there, in a killer dress, and the man didn't even flinch. How do you not flinch when someone as fabulous as me walks in?"

"Maybe he's blind," I offered, trying not to laugh.

"Blind to greatness, clearly," Sasha said, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "And that's his loss. Honestly, Viv, the Kalashnikov men? Overrated." She paused, grinning at him. "You're the only one with an ounce of human decency in the entire human being. A rare unicorn."

Alexei gave a small bow. "Thank you, Sasha. I'll treasure the compliment."

"You should." She flopped back into her chair, crossing her legs with exaggerated grace. "Now, someone get me a drink. All this talking has parched my fabulous throat."

Sasha leaned closer, her eyes narrowing conspiratorially. "So, Viv, who was that guy? You know, the one with the death grip on your waist. Because I swear, I've seen less possessive behavior from my cat, and she guards her food bowl like it's the crown jewels."

Blake visibly stiffened but stayed silent, glaring at a random spot on the wall as if it owed him money.

I hesitated. "I... don't actually know him."

Sasha's eyes widened dramatically, and she smacked her hand on the armrest. "Wait, wait, hold up. Some random guy just grabs you like he's auditioning for The Most Intense Human on the Planet, and you don't even know his name? Viv, that's not mysterious; that's straight-up serial killer territory."

Alexei raised an eyebrow. "He didn't exactly seem like your average guy, though. The way he looked at you... it was unnerving."

"And hot," Sasha chimed in, earning a glare from Alexei. "What? I'm just saying the truth. Dude's got the whole dark and dangerous thing going on. You could've warned me he was going to give me a heart attack just by existing, Viv."

"Sasha!" I hissed, mortified.

"Oh, don't pretend you didn't notice," she shot back with a smirk. "He wasn't exactly subtle. It was like watching a lion claim its prey. Kind of terrifying, kind of... intriguing?"

Blake finally exhaled through his nose, a low, irritated sound that made all of us glance his way.

"Blake," Sasha said, fixing him with an expectant stare. "Who the hell is he? Because judging by your permanent murder face right now, you know him. Care to share with the class?"

"Drop it, Sasha," Blake muttered, his voice clipped.

"Drop it? Oh, no. I'm not dropping it," she retorted, leaning forward like she was gearing up for a full interrogation. "You obviously know something, and it's clearly pissing you off. Spill it. Who is he? Why was he all over Vivian? And, most importantly, why did he look like he could break a man in half without breaking a sweat?"

"Sasha," Blake growled, his tone sharp enough to cut.

"Fine, be cryptic," she shot back, throwing up her hands in exasperation. "But just so you know, this whole mysterious brooding act only makes me more curious. If you're trying to protect Viv or whatever, maybe tell her instead of sulking like some overprotective bodyguard."

Alexei cleared his throat, trying to mediate. "Sasha, maybe it's best if we-"

"No, Alexei," she interrupted, gesturing wildly. "Because now I'm invested. Who was this guy? A secret Serial killer? An undercover spy? Or-oh my god-an ex-boyfriend with unresolved issues?"

I groaned. "Sasha, please stop."

"What? I'm just trying to piece this together. And don't think I didn't notice you didn't exactly push him away, Viv. What's going on? Is this some kind of forbidden romance thing? Because if it is, I demand details."

Blake stood abruptly, his chair screeching against the floor. "Enough, Sasha." His voice was low and cold, and it was enough to make even Sasha sit back, her expression faltering.

He turned to me, his eyes hard. "You don't need to know who he is. Just stay away from him, Vi."

And with that, he stalked out of the room, leaving an awkward silence in his wake.

Sasha, ever undeterred, let out a low whistle. "Well, someone's got issues. But seriously, Viv... who the hell was that guy?"

I shook my head, my stomach twisting with unease. "I don't know, Sasha. I really don't."

But the truth was, I wasn't sure I wanted to find out.

Sasha leaned back, crossing her arms with a dramatic huff. "Fine, keep your secrets, Vivian. But if this mystery waist-grabber turns out to be a mafia boss or a serial killer, don't come crying to me when things go sideways."

Alexei sighed, rubbing his temple. "Sasha, do you ever consider not jumping to the most extreme conclusions?"

"Nope," she replied cheerfully. "Extreme is where the fun's at, Alexei. You should try it sometime. Might even loosen up that stiff neck of yours."

I glanced at my watch and groaned. "As much as I'd love to sit here and listen to you two bicker all night, I have to get going. I'm already late for my shift."

Sasha's head snapped toward me. "Wait. You're working tonight? Are you kidding me? After all this drama? You need a break, Viv, not a crappy restaurant shift dealing with entitled customers."

"It's called rent, Sasha," I muttered, grabbing my bag.

"Rent, shm-rent," she said, waving her hand dismissively. "You need to prioritize your sanity. Or at least your safety! What if Mystery Man decides to follow you to work and swoop in all dark knight vibes while you're balancing a tray of margaritas?"

I rolled my eyes, heading for the door. "I'll be fine. It's just a late shift, and it's not like anyone's going to cause trouble at a family-friendly restaurant."

Sasha snorted. "You clearly underestimate the Karen population. But fine, go ahead. Just text me when you get there. Oh, and if Mr. Tall, Dark, and Dangerous shows up, you better FaceTime me. I want front-row seats to the chaos."

Alexei stood, following me to the door. "I'll drive you, at least. It's late, and I'd rather not have you wandering around on your own."

Sasha smirked. "Ah, see? Alexei gets it. You could learn a thing or two from him, Blake!" she called after my brother, who was nowhere to be seen.

I sighed, nodding at Alexei. "Thanks. Let's go."

As we stepped outside, Sasha shouted after me, "Don't let any Serial killers whisk you away without telling me first! I'll need to plan an outfit for the rescue mission!"

I laughed despite myself, shaking my head as I climbed into Alexei's car. Whatever was going on with that man-whoever he was-I couldn't afford to dwell on it right now. I had bills to pay and a shift to survive.

But as the car pulled away from the house, I couldn't shake the feeling that my night wasn't going to be as simple as I'd hoped.

Alexei dropped me off at the restaurant where I worked part-time. I gave him a quick wave and stepped inside, greeted by the familiar chatter of the staff and the comforting hum of activity. Everything was as it always was-steady, predictable. For the past seven or eight months, this place had been my second home. The salary wasn't great, but it was enough to take care of myself and, occasionally, to help my aunt and uncle with their finances.

This wasn't some high-end restaurant-just a cozy, medium-tier spot. But the food? People came back for it. The flavors were something special, and it gave me a sense of pride to work here, even if it wasn't glamorous. I headed straight to the locker room, changed into my uniform, and dove into the day's routine: taking orders, serving food, cleaning tables. The monotony was comforting, almost therapeutic. When things at home got tense, this was where I came-even if it wasn't my shift. No one asked questions. They were just glad for the extra pair of hands.

I was scrubbing down a table when I felt it-someone standing behind me. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and I turned to find Zinoviy. My stomach tightened, anger flaring the second our eyes met. Before I could think twice, I slapped him.

Zinoviy didn't flinch. He didn't raise a hand to his cheek or even step back. He just stood there, staring at me with that maddening calmness.

"Is this how you greet me, sweetie?" he drawled, his hand sliding to rest on my waist. A slow, calm smile spread across his lips.

"I don't want to talk to you, Zin. Get the fuck out of my face." My voice trembled, anger still coursing through me. I didn't want it to subside. Not yet.

He tilted his head, his tone annoyingly patient. "He started it, Vi. I didn't do anything. I was just roaming with Zo, minding my business, and your brother came at me. Punched me. What was I supposed to do? Let him?" His grip on my waist tightened slightly, daring me to argue. "I have some pride, you know. I had to fight back. Your brother left me no choice."

"He's a kid, Zin!" I snapped, my voice sharp as I tried to shrug his hand off.

"A kid doesn't throw punches like that," he shot back, his tone clipped. "If you got hit by him, you wouldn't be so quick to defend him. Besides, I held back. I didn't break anything, did I? No broken ribs, no fractures. That's me being considerate. I could've. But I didn't. Because he's your brother. Your brother, on the other hand, didn't hold back at all."

I shook my head, frustration boiling over. "Why did he even come at you?"

Zinoviy shrugged. "Who the hell knows? He didn't exactly announce his reasons. He just swung at me."

Letting out a heavy sigh, I signaled to a colleague to take over my tables and led Zin to the back door. The alleyway behind the restaurant was secluded, a space where people rarely ventured. It was quiet, and I needed quiet to deal with him.

The moment we were alone, Zin didn't waste any time. His hands found my waist again, pulling me close before crashing his lips against mine. The kiss was intense, consuming, and I let myself get lost in it-just like I always did.

This man had been my secret for seven months now. I met him here before with his friends, since then we'd fallen into this dangerous routine of sneaking around. We weren't in a relationship, just a fling. We existed in this murky in-between, a space where we both found something we needed but couldn't define. I didn't know what to call it, and maybe I didn't want to.

Zinoviy wasn't a good guy, not by a long shot, but compared to his brother Zoran, Zinoviy felt like the lesser evil. Zoran was a walking disaster, unhinged in ways that terrified me. Zinoviy, at least, had a charm that disarmed me every time.

This was our routine. Zin and I were each other's secret-hidden meetings, stolen moments, a dangerous game we played. If I wanted to see him, I had to lie. Blake trusted me to go to parties, and I used those opportunities to sneak away. I hated lying to him, hated ditching my friends. My guilty pleasure. And Zin knew it, too.

Zinoviy wanted to tell Zoran about us, to stop hiding, but I wouldn't let him. What we had was fragile, reckless. It wasn't love. I wasn't ready for anyone to know. I wasn't ready for the world to know. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

But truth was, Zinoviy wasn't just my guilty pleasure-he was my escape, the only part of my life that felt like it belonged to me alone.

Here, in this alley, it's just us - Zinoviy and me. Alone. His arms are around my waist, his lips still tingling against mine, but I can't focus. Something feels off. There's this nagging, unshakable feeling crawling under my skin, like eyes are on us, unseen but piercing. Seconds pass by, but my unease deepens. I step closer, my fingers clutching his shirt as the weight of the shadows presses in. Whatever it is- whether it's paranoia or something real.

I don't know who to blame. But I'm really going crazy.