[LINA]
When my father found him, Dylan had been barely twelve years old, a boy weathered by the cruel realities of war.
And yet, even in the depths of his despair, Father saw something in him—potential, strength, loyalty.
He brought Dylan to our estate, tasked with becoming my personal bodyguard. I was only ten at the time, a sheltered girl who had known nothing but privilege and safety.
But Dylan was a stark contrast to my world—scarred, silent, and carrying a weight that even my young mind recognized as unbearable.
His presence unsettled me at first. He wasn't just intimidating; he was otherworldly, like a statue carved from stone but with eyes that held the storm of every battle he'd fought.
His long, dirty gray hair hung over his ash-colored eyes, eyes that seemed to see through everything, even me. When he looked at me, it wasn't with kindness or malice—it was with nothing. A void. And that terrified me.
For weeks, he kept his distance, and I stayed out of his way. He was a shadow in the halls, always watching but never speaking. But life as a Fay was not without its dangers, and when the first threat came for me, he was there.
I still remember it vividly—the moment he stepped between me and the blade meant for my heart. He didn't hesitate, didn't falter. He moved so fast that was almost inhuman, taking down my attacker with a swiftness that left me breathless.
And as he stood over me, his face calm and his body tense, I realized I was looking at someone who would risk everything for my safety.
Over the years, he became my constant protector, always at my side. No matter the danger, he was there, shielding me as if I were the only thing that mattered in his world.
And perhaps, to him, I was. Not as a person, but as his duty.
Because that was all I ever was to Dylan—his responsibility.
No matter how many times he saved me, no matter how often I saw the rare flashes of something human behind those cold eyes, it never went beyond that.
His actions spoke of unwavering devotion, but his heart? It remained locked away, hidden behind the walls he'd built to survive his brutal past.
And yet, how could I not fall for him? How could I not long for something more from the man who had become my silent guardian throughout these years?
But Dylan was like a soldier who had long since surrendered his humanity, his only purpose to protect and serve.
As I stood before him now, all those memories collided with the present. To him, I was not a person to love. I was his mission.
And yet, despite everything, I couldn't stop hoping. Hoping that, one day, I might be more to him than just another duty.
Right now, however, I was willing to sacrifice everything to get Dylan to help me. Even if it broke my heart in the process.
"You're asking me . . . to
kidnap
Eve
, and throw her off a cliff?" Dylan's voice was calm, but the flicker of disbelief in his eyes was unmistakable. His tone was steady, but his gaze bore into me as though trying to gauge just how insane I'd become.
I bit my lip, my hands trembling as I struggled to maintain composure. "It's not like that," I said quickly, waving my hands to dispel the image. "I just . . . I need Eve to realize how much she truly feels for my brother. And nothing forces someone to confront their feelings more than a moment of life and death."
Dylan leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. His jaw tightened as he regarded me, a mix of exasperation and concern shadowing his expression. "That's a reckless idea," he said firmly. "Anything could go wrong, especially with the snow and ice this time of year. It's dangerous."
"It won't," I insisted, my voice desperate yet resolute. "Nothing will happen to them. You'll be there. You and your team will make sure of that. And Cole—my brother has undergone rigorous training and has faced countless extreme situations. If anyone can protect her, it's him. I know he will."
"You're gambling with lives," Dylan said, rising from his seat. His disapproval was like a slap to the face, but I couldn't back down now. Not when I'd come this far.
I stood too, grabbing his arm before he could leave. "If you do this for me, Dylan," I said, my voice shaking, "I swear I'll never bother you again. I'll never push myself on you, never talk about love or us ever again. I'll let you go. Completely."
That made him stop. For a moment, his sharp gaze softened, and I saw something flicker in his expression. A hesitation. A question.
He sat back down, running a hand through his hair. "Why are you so desperate to help them? Surely they can figure this out on their own. They're adults."
"They
can't
!" My voice broke, and I felt the tears prickling behind my eyes. "They won't. Not now. Not ever. I know this better than anyone, Dylan. If I don't intervene, they'll go through life missing each other until the very end. I can't let that happen."
Dylan's face hardened, his piercing gray eyes locking onto mine. For a long, tense moment, he studied me, weighing my determination.
Then, with a heavy sigh, he leaned back and crossed his arms. "No one can beat Cole in a one-on-one. Not unless they've been trained like him."
My breath hitched. "Then . . . you'll do it?"
His lips twitched into a smirk, but there was something dangerous in the way his gaze drifted toward the window, as though lost in thought.
"Our scores have been even for the last ten years," he murmured. "Maybe it's time to move those numbers again."
My stomach dropped. "You . . . you won't seriously hurt him, right? He still needs to rescue Eve afterward."
"I won't," Dylan said with a dry chuckle. "I know exactly how to handle your brother. He's predictable when it comes to her."
Relief washed over me, but it was short-lived. Dylan's smirk widened into something sly, something unnerving. "And as for making sure they patch things up, I have a plan that's better than any fight."
"Better than . . .
any
fights
?" I echoed, confused and wary.
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "I'm going to use something far more effective."
I swallowed hard, suddenly uneasy. "W-what do you mean? You're not going to—"
"
Relax
." Dylan's grin widened, his voice dripping with dark amusement. "No bullets. No violence." He paused, his tone dropping into something almost teasing. "I'm going to use drugs on the two of them."
For a moment, I couldn't breathe. My heart pounded as his words sank in, and doubt crept into my mind.
Your next read is at empire
Had I made the right choice asking for his help?