Nero - Revenge never tasted better

Chapter 4 - The bringing of a bitch down

The darkness seemed to swallow me whole as I wandered the twisting alleyways and cobblestone paths of this secluded village. The ramshackle houses leaned precariously against each other, and the narrow streets twisted and turned in an intricate maze.

As I walked, I couldn't help but admire its rugged beauty. The flickering lanterns outside the doors cast eerie shadows on the crumbling walls, and the air was thick with the scent of rotting wood.

I passed the same crumbling house from which I had taken the blue scarf that now covered my face, and I felt confident that I was on the right path. But as I continued on, the houses became more dilapidated, and the alleys grew narrower and darker.

The darkness was all-consuming, and the only light came from the flickering lanterns outside some of the doors. But even those provided little comfort as I felt myself becoming more and more lost. There were no street signs nor landmarks to guide me, and at times it felt as if I was walking in circles.

As the village began to thin out, I saw a faint glow in the distance. I stumbled towards it, my feet unsteady on the rocky ground.

As I drew closer, I saw that it was an abandoned church, hidden away among the trees within the village. I realized then that I had gone the wrong way, and I had no idea how to find my way back. The darkness seemed to be closing in around me, and I felt myself sinking deeper and deeper into despair.

I stood there for a moment, catching my breath and taking in my surroundings. In the distance, I could hear the occasional hoot of an owl. But apart from that, there was nothing but the silence of the night.

I slowly approached the abandoned church, its weathered facade standing as a testament to the passage of time.

Its walls, crafted from aged and worn wood, bore the marks of decades of exposure to the elements. Overgrown foliage embraced the building, as if nature itself sought to reclaim this forgotten place of worship.

Yet, despite its neglect, it held an eerie beauty that was impossible to ignore. The church's entrance was flanked by two towering, ornate wooden doors that had been left ajar. It was as if it had opened its arms and beckoned me inside.

As I stepped through the doors, I was immediately hit by a wall of sound. It was the most beautiful piano melody I had ever heard. It was filled with an indescribable beauty that stirred something deep within me and I felt myself taking steps closer to the source of the sound, my heart pounding in my chest as I wondered who could be playing with such skill and emotion. And then I saw him.

Aiyden.

My heart skipped a beat, and I felt a sudden surge of panic. I could not believe my eyes.

It was him!

It was Aiyden!

What were the odds I would have found him here!

I could not let him see me however, I was not ready, and I did not know how he would react.
So, I quickly found a pillar to hide behind, trying to stay as quiet and still as possible. But as I did, I knocked into one of the benches, making a loud noise and dropping the blue scarf that was hiding my face.

Aiyden's playing abruptly stopped, and he scanned the room, calling out, "Who's there?"
I tried to discretely bend down and retrieve the scarf while staying hidden behind the pillar, but as I did, our eyes met.

I stood there frozen, unsure of what to do next: Aiyden, the one person I had been searching for, was standing right in front of me. I couldn't believe it.

"You!" he exclaimed, startled.

I slowly rose to my feet, unsure of what to say. This unexpected reunion with Aiyden had taken an unplanned turn, but I couldn't let fear guide our interactions. I swiftly pursued him as he made a desperate dash for the back exit of the church, my voice cutting through the air, strained with urgency.

"Aiyden, stop!" I cried out gasping for air, my words echoing through the forest.

His frantic strides halted abruptly, his body tensing with a mix of surprise and apprehension. Slowly, he turned to face me, his eyes widening in disbelief and confusion.

"You... know my name?" Aiyden stammered.

"Yes" I replied, my voice steady despite the rapid beating of my heart. "I've been searching for you, ever since I discovered your wallet in the forest. I wanted to return it to its rightful owner. I left it by your house."

Silence hung between us, a delicate thread connecting our uncertain gazes. Aiyden's mind seemed to race, torn between the instinct to flee and the curiosity sparked by my unexpected knowledge. He scanned the surroundings, searching for any signs of danger.


"Is this a trap? Are the clan members nearby?" he asked, his voice tinged with suspicion and fear.

"No, I assure you, I came alone," I responded. "The others are unaware of the den's location."

His expression contorted, battling against the inner turmoil that wrestled within him.

"Alone, huh?" he muttered. "Then the others... they don't know about our sanctuary yet?"

His train of thought solidified, and a determination crept into his voice. "This might be... good, then. I'll just have to eliminate you, and our refuge will remain secure," he stated, his tone quivering with resolve.

To my surprise, he lunged at me, his hands closing around my throat, choking the air from my lungs. Panic rose within me as I struggled for breath.

"I came alone, Aiyden. The clan hasn't discovered the den, but they're actively searching for it," I managed to utter amidst his grip. "You can trust me. Look," I added, desperately trying to show him the map and notes I had clandestinely obtained from Nicodemo's office.

Gradually, he loosened his hold on my neck, his curiosity piqued as he accepted the documents. I took a moment to soothe my bruised throat, seizing the opportunity to observe the whirlwind of emotions playing across his face. Confusion, scepticism, and perhaps a flicker of fear intermingled, painting a complex portrait of his internal struggle as he inspected the documents.

This reunion hadn't gone according to plan, but I had to seize the opportunity. Summoning my charisma, I spoke with a disarming smile, "By the way, I'm Nero. This village of yours is quite remarkable. You've managed to create something truly extraordinary."

"Why are you doing this?" Aiyden interjected, his voice frosty, his eyes fixed on the notes I had shared.

Caught off guard, I met his gaze unwaveringly, understanding the weight of his scepticism. This was the challenge I sought — to earn his trust despite the odds.

"Truthfully, I'm not entirely certain," I admitted, striving to sound genuine. "But what I do know is that I don't wish to see anyone else harmed."

"Why should I trust you? You could be a spy, aligned with the clan," he countered, his words laced with caution.

My lips curled into a cunning grin as I inched closer to him. "Even worse, I am the leader's daughter." I confessed, keeping his gaze locked with mine.

Maintaining our eye contact, I pressed forward, my voice laced with conviction. "Despite your reservations, I promise you, I mean no harm. In fact, having me as your friend could work to your advantage."

His eyes widened, caught off guard by my proposition. "You...want to be my friend?" he blurted out; his disbelief palpable.

"I can be your informant. I can give you information on the clan's movements and plans. That would be a huge advantage for you and your community, right?"

He hesitated only briefly, before firmly rejecting my offer. "No. I'd rather face death than align myself with someone like you. I should kill you as you now pose a threat to reveal our location, but I will let you go with your life, consider yourself lucky this time, for I won't extend such mercy next time. Do not come here ever again. Now, leave and never return."

Without further ado, he turned on his heels and disappeared into the forest's embrace, leaving me with a sense of bitter disappointment. Perhaps it was time to relinquish my illusions and confront reality.

Lost and alone I decided to wander aimlessly, hoping to stumble upon my way back home. But after an hour of fruitless wandering, I found myself even deeper into the bewildering forest. Despair settled upon me, and I sank to the ground, cradling my head in my hands.

I resigned myself to spending the night in this unfamiliar territory, clinging to the hope that Nicodemo would eventually notice my absence and send someone to find me—assuming he would notice at all. The disconcerting notion that I would go unnoticed, and no one would come for me, sent shivers of panic down my spine. But surely Tyler would notice my absence from school and come straight looking for me, right?

Suddenly, Aiyden materialized before me once again, his authoritative voice cutting through the silence. "I told you to go home! Do you intend to sleep here or what? This remains our territory," he commanded.

Initially, I believed my infatuation with him had taken such hold that I was now conjuring hallucinations. Yet, as he drew nearer, crouched down to my level, and extended a hand to help me up, I realized he was undeniably real.

"What are you doing here?" I stammered in a mix of shock and confusion. "Were you following me all this time?"

Unfazed by my question, he brushed it aside and simply stated, "You're lost, aren't you? Come, I'll show you the way."

I resisted by pulling my arm out of his grip and unmasked him "So you were following me..."

A blush tinged his cheeks as he confessed hesitantly, his voice filled with vulnerability. "Well...just to make sure you were truly going home."

In that moment, I sensed the unspoken words that hung between us—the underlying curiosity and an inexplicable magnetic pull that drew him to me. But he chose to conceal that part, shrouding it with a veil of embarrassment.

As we began our journey through the forest, a palpable tension hung in the air, an unspoken reminder of our natural enmity. The awkwardness between us was impossible to ignore, each step carrying with it the weight of our conflicting instincts. Yet, beneath the surface, an unexplainable magnetism persisted, drawing us closer despite the boundaries that separated our worlds.

We traversed the shadowy path, our footsteps echoing in the quietude of the woods. Aiyden's eyes often darted in my direction, his gaze intense and probing. It was as if he sought to decipher the enigma that I represented—a puzzle that both intrigued and unsettled him.

The conflicting emotions within us mirrored the intricate dance between light and darkness, an intricate tango of attraction and wariness.

Aiyden cleared his throat, breaking the silence that had settled between us. "So, you want to be my informant," he stated, his voice laced with scepticism. "The risks are great for me, and our survival hangs by a thread. I cannot afford to be the one that brought death to all of my people. So, I need to ask you how can I know if I should trust you?"

I glanced at him, recognizing his burden. "You can't."

He paused, contemplating the situation "hum... I see".

Soon we reached the edge of the forest, the last line of trees before Crimson Hollow and so the moment had come for us to part ways. Just as I was about to wish him well and be on my way, he faced me and spoke, his voice filled with determination. "Very well, Nero. I will take the risk. For the sake of my people, for the hope of a different future, I will accept your offer. For too long, we have merely survived within the confines of our den. It's time we dare to live. But remember, trust is fragile, and you will need to prove yourself."

A flicker of relief danced in my eyes as I nodded in agreement. "I understand, Aiyden. I won't let you down." This was the breakthrough I had hoped for, a crack in the foundation of our ancient animosity.

"From now on, we shall meet at the church" he stated. "This is where we will exchange information. It will be our safe ground."

"Really? The church? Surely you can come up with something better for a safe ground" I replied.

"The church is abandoned, in the middle of trees, and there are rumours of it being haunted. No one goes there, I guarantee you it will be just you and me."

"Fine, I'll be there" I replied, a small smile tugging at the corner of my lips.

He quickly drew a map on a piece of parchment, handing it to me. "Take this. It will guide you back there safely next time."

Accepting the map, I tucked it carefully into my pocket, and with a final nod of understanding, we parted ways, each of us retreating to our respective realms.

I had barely managed to snatch a few hours of sleep that night as I arrived back home in the early hours of 4 am. With the relentless march of time, Monday morning swiftly arrived, bringing with it another day of academia and intricate plots awaiting me at Wentworth Hall Academy.

Days passed in a blur of meticulous preparation for the grand event that awaited us—the illustrious and long-awaited Galloping Charity Cups. This distinguished occasion possessed an allure that captured the attention of the local press and drew in the most influential figures from neighbouring towns. Nestled within the embrace of a sprawling countryside estate, the event radiated a sense of entrenched tradition, timeless elegance, and, supposedly, acts of philanthropy.

The event's purpose was twofold: it was not just any horse racing event; but also an opportunity for individuals to flaunt their wealth and social standing under the guise of generosity and community involvement.

Each passing year, a chosen charitable organization—whether it be a children's hospital, an animal shelter, or an environmental conservation group—would be the fortunate beneficiary of the substantial proceeds generated from the intense biddings and wagers placed upon the racing horses.

As the appointed day arrived, the participants arrived in their finest attire, their garments serving as subtle pronouncements of their affluence. Women donned intricate headpieces, delicately adorned gloves, and gracefully draped dresses, while the men boasted impeccable suits, complemented by stylish hats. The air carried an electric buzz, blending the anticipation of horse racing with the delicate art of social manoeuvring.

The fortunate coincidence of a radiant sun on this autumn day lent an air of vibrancy to the festivities, infusing them with an additional touch of enchantment.
Amidst the swirl of colours, laughter, and orchestrated elegance, I knew my role in this intricate game: today I was bringing a bitch down and ascertaining my throne, so I needed to look the part. I adorned myself in the most elegant yet extravagant of ensembles – a multi-tiered frilled pink floral gown from Zimmerman, each delicate fold and ruffle a testament to exquisite craftsmanship. A matching headpiece, evoking a sense of timeless elegance, completed my ensemble, ensuring that all eyes would be drawn to my presence.

I stood there, champagne flute in hand, surrounded by my loyal comrades—Charlie, Andhorra, Thomas and Zachary—each of us indulging in the sinful pleasure of gossip and judgment. It was a scene reminiscent of the most scandalous tales whispered through the halls of elite institutions. We were the puppet masters, pulling the strings of the social hierarchy, revelling in the power that came with unveiling secrets.

Amidst our merry gathering, a ripple of anticipation washed over us as the Browns—the family of nasty Meghan—and the Beauchamps —Charles' distinguished kin— entered the grand ballroom. They unwittingly stepped into the web we had woven, and it was time for the curtain to rise on our grand performance.

I exchanged a knowing glance with my friends, and as if choreographed by fate, we descended upon her, creating a spectacle that would leave the attendees breathless.

Meghan's eyes widened with a mix of surprise and apprehension as we closed in, her attempt at composure faltering in the face of our relentless scrutiny. Charles, her boyfriend, watched with a mixture of confusion and concern, caught in the crossfire of our social warfare. It was a moment that would redefine their lives, exposing the underbelly of their relationship for all to witness.

With a wicked smile curling my lips, I exposed Meghan's transgressions, the betrayal that had shattered the heart of Charles, her unsuspecting boyfriend. The room held its breath, waiting for the truth to unfurl like a deadly venom. And oh, how we revelled in their astonishment.

"Meghan," I purred, my voice dripping with a mix of superiority and intrigue. "did you really think you could keep your little secret hidden forever?"

"What are you talking about?" She replied

"It seems you've been engaged in a rather illicit affair with none other than Papa Beauchamp himself." Continued Thomas clearly enjoying the scandal that was about to unfold.

The words hung heavy in the air, their implications casting a shadow over the once-grandiose event.

Whispers travelled through the crowd like wildfire, eyes wide with morbid curiosity as they drew nearer, forming a circle around us.

Meghan's face blanched, her eyes widening in disbelief and dread. She stumbled back, searching for words that could never erase the indelible stain on her reputation. The weight of her guilt pressed upon her, threatening to consume her very being.

Beside her, Charles stood frozen, his eyes darting between Meghan and his father.

Misses Beauchamps, mortified to discover her husband's affair with their son's girlfriend, turned to him and asked "James, tell me this is all a lie!"

"Honey, please, these are just baseless rumours spread by kids that have nothing better to do than bring each other down, please do not pay attention to such things" Mister Beauchamp replied with a nervous laugh in an attempt to calm down his wife.

With a flourish I turned to face him and had Andhorra and Charlie produce the damning evidence, each item carefully chosen to maximize the impact of the revelation. A positive pregnancy test and a collection of photographs perfectly capturing Meghan's secret meetings with none other than Mister Beauchamp. The gasps rippled through the crowd as they feasted their eyes upon the undeniable proof of Meghan's transgressions.

"Oh, dear Meghan," I continued, my voice layered with calculated drama, "how could you betray sweet Charles with none other than his own father? Such audacity!"

Charles' voice quivered as he struggled to find the words that would pierce through the turmoil in his heart. "Meghan... how could you? And you, Father... I trusted you both."

With a wicked smile, I raised my voice above the murmurs, capturing the attention of all who bore witness to this spectacle. "I wonder," I taunted, "who shall claim the title of father to Meghan's unborn child? Charles or Mister Beauchamp?" The question hung in the air, its weight pressing down upon the fractured relationships, leaving no room for escape.

"You're sick," Mister Beauchamp spat at me, his face contorted with anger.

"Maybe," I said, shrugging. "But at least I don't cheat on my wife with underaged girls".

The truth had been laid bare; their clandestine affair now exposed to the unforgiving eyes of the world. The once-respected Mister Beauchamp's reputation crumbled, overshadowed by the gravity of his actions.

As the crowd absorbed the magnitude of the scandal, whispers spread like wildfire, each attendee relishing in the juicy details that were revealed before their very eyes.

I leaned closer to Meghan, my voice dripping with an icy venom and whispered in her ear "Next time you will know better than to cross me. Remember your place."

In that moment, I revelled in the chaos I had created, the satisfaction of exposing secrets and bringing forth the consequences of deceit. The Galloping Charity Cups had become our stage, and I, Nero, the master puppeteer, pulling the strings of destiny with a calculated flick of my wrist.

As the room teetered on the precipice of chaos, a symphony of gasps, shocked whispers, and disapproving glances - a scene crafted to perfection, the pinnacle of our mastery over manipulation and intrigue – I walked away with Andhorra and Charlie and strolled leisurely around the venue.

As we neared the horse stables, the hubbub of the crowd faded into the background, replaced by the hushed voices of two men engaged in an intense conversation. Instinctively, we paused, our curiosity piqued by the clandestine exchange.

One of the voices belonged to Nicodemo, my father. His normally composed tone was tinged with an undercurrent of unease, as if a dormant secret threatened to rise to the surface. The other man's voice held an air of authority, his words veiled in a cloak of veiled threat and urgency.

"I'm telling you, Nicodemo, the walls are closing in, "said the stranger, "the higher-ups are starting to connect the dots, and they won't rest until they uncover the truth. We all have a lot to lose in this."

Nicodemo's voice, heavy with a mixture of weariness and apprehension, replied "We did what we had to do to Salvatore. That night was just a mistake, and accident, let's leave it behind us now, do not worry nothing will happen."

"But remember, the past can only stay buried for so long, and sooner or later the truth will be exposed. What will you do then?." Salvatore replied.

My heart quickened with a mix of curiosity and trepidation. Charlie, Andhorra and I looked at each other unsure what to do, but we eventually decided it would be safer to not listen in on their conversation any longer.

Ans so we ventured back into the whirlwind of the Galloping Charity Cups event. Determined to temporarily cast aside our worries, we surrendered ourselves to the allure of the extravagant affair. The guests were still shocked from the Meghan's scandal and were still whispering about it.

My friends and I embarked on a wild escapade, embracing the freedom and decadence that the event offered. Champagne flowed like a river, its effervescent bubbles dancing upon our tongues, while the racing horses thundered past, their muscular grace captivating our attention. Amidst the flurry of laughter and animated conversations, Andhorra's rebellious spirit took hold, and in an act of sheer audacity, she produced a small Ziploc baggy from her bag.

"Who's up for a little adventure?" she chimed, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

The baggy contained a substance that held the promise of euphoria and escape - cocaine.

Some hesitated, wary of the consequences that lingered on the periphery of our fun-filled escapade. But curiosity and a yearning for release won over caution, and one by one, my friends indulged in a momentary surrender to the intoxicating allure of the substance.

As the drugs coursed through their veins, inhibitions dissipated, giving rise to an uninhibited energy that filled the air. Andhorra, fueled by the cocaine's allure, found herself drawn to Zachary, the enigmatic presence who had silently yearned for her affection. In an impulsive flurry of desire, their lips met in a passionate embrace, leaving us all taken aback, including Zachary himself, who had been in a seemingly committed relationship with Chloe.

"Nero, did you see that?" Charlie gasped, her eyes wide with astonishment. "I never thought Andhorra and Zachary would... I mean, what about Chloe..."

The shock and confusion rippled through us like an electric current, casting a new layer of complexity upon our already tangled web of relationships. Andhorra's spontaneity had caught us all off guard, leaving us grappling with a newfound tension that hung between us.
Amidst the chaos of mingling emotions and the allure of the horse races, we found ourselves caught up in the exhilarating whirlwind of bidding. Horse after horse paraded before our eyes, each eliciting fervent discussions and intense debates on their potential for victory.

Thomas, ever the despicable character, made clear his disdain for wemen and his cruel judgments echoed through the air, eliciting a wave of anger and disgust within me, but I held my tongue, determined not to let his toxic presence spoil the moment.

As the afternoon waned, the bidding escalated, our fortunes rising and falling with each flick of the auctioneer's gavel. There were moments of triumph, when victory danced in our hands, and moments of defeat, when our hopes were dashed against the rocks of disappointment. Yet through it all, the spirit of camaraderie prevailed, binding us together in a shared experience that defied the complexities of our individual lives.

The sun began its descent, casting an enchanting glow over the event as evening embraced the countryside estate. We bid our farewells to the Galloping Charity Cups, our minds buzzing with memories of triumph, scandal, and indulgence. We departed with hearts lightened by the ephemeral escape the event had provided yet burdened by the weight of secrets still left unexplored.

As the night settled upon us, I found solace in the sanctuary of my own home, the events of the last few weeks spinning through my thoughts like a carousel. I mean a lot of weird things had been happening in Crimson Hollow lately: The secret district, the mysterious red-haired woman that visits George in secret, and Nicodemo's secret... Too many things to think about and resolve, but that would be for another day.

For now, the bed welcomed me with open arms, and sleep enveloped my weary body.

The rest of the week at Wentworth Hall Academy flew by in a blur of classes, homework and gossips. Meghan did not dare show her face back at school, and she was barely going out of her house either. As for Mister Beauchamp, he was arrested for statutory rape and awaiting trial. His bank accounts had been frozen, leaving Charles and his mom penniless and forced to consider relocation to a cheaper town.

I, for myself, spent every free moment listening in on Nicodemo's conversations and scouring his files for any information on our clan. It wasn't easy, but I knew I had to do everything in my power to prove myself to Aiyden.

For the next few weeks, my secret meetings with him at the church in the heart of the secret district became a regular occurrence. What started as a once-a-week exchange of information quickly grew into twice-a-week rendezvous. Our conversations were terse and guarded at first, filled with animosity and scepticism...

"You're late again. Can't you keep track of time?" complained Aiyden.

"Sorry, I had to sneak out of the house." I replied.

...defiance was at its peak between us, with Aiyden constantly complaining about my
tardiness ...

"Took you long enough. I was starting to think you'd chickened out."

"Calm down Aiyden, I had to make sure I wasn't being followed."

"Paranoid much?"

"Just like your kind."

"Watch your tone Nero!"

...but as we spent more time together, a peculiar bond began to form between us.

"You actually came prepared this time," Aiyden remarked, a hint of surprise in his voice as I handed him a stack of papers. "Maybe you're not as useless as I thought."

I rolled my eyes, a smirk tugging at my lips. "Don't get used to it. I still have plenty of reasons to despise you."

He chuckled, a low and rough sound that echoed in the empty church. "Likewise, I still have many reasons to kill you. But for now, you're proving to be quite an asset."

With each meeting, our bond grew stronger, a strange blend of camaraderie and rivalry.

"I've got some new intel for you. High ranking members of the clan are planning a meeting at the abandoned warehouse on Elm Street tomorrow night. They will surely be picking our next ritual victim. Here are the possible leads."

"Good work, Nero. That's vital information and will probably save lives."

As we continued our clandestine meetings the lines between enemies and allies blurred, leaving behind a complicated connection filled with equal parts mistrust and camaraderie. Our love-hate friendship began to take shape, unspoken understanding growing between us with each exchange of information.

"I can't believe I'm actually starting to trust you Nero."

"Trust is a funny thing. It can betray you when you least expect it."

As the storm alerts filled the town and citizens were advised to stay indoors, I was forced to ignore the warnings and made my way to the church as usual.

I entered the dimly lit building, my heart racing. Aiyden was already waiting for me, his eyes filled with concern. "Nero you shouldn't have come, it looks like there is going to be a pretty big storm any second now." he said, his voice laced with worry.

"I had to give you this," I replied, handing him the folder containing the information on the clan. Our fingers brushed briefly, sending a jolt of electricity through me.

The wind outside was howling like a pack of wolves, and the rain was pounding against the stained-glass windows of the church.

"Don't worry, I'll be fine, however I should go now before the storm gets worse" I reassured, my voice laced with a touch of determination. I cast a wary glance towards the approaching storm, its ominous presence growing ever more formidable.

Aiyden's voice boomed with authority, his words slicing through the air. "You're not going outside in this weather!" His hand gripped my arm, halting my movement with a firmness that betrayed his concern.

Startled, we locked eyes, both taken aback by the unexpected intensity of his actions. A flicker of embarrassment crossed his face as he released his hold, realizing he had momentarily lost control of his emotions. "I mean... it's not safe for you to go now. It's too dangerous," he stammered, his voice laced with genuine worry.

The storm intensified. Thunder boomed, shaking the walls of the church. The lights flickered, and we exchanged worried glances. It was clear that we were trapped inside for the night.

I settled into one of the dusty pews, and Aiyden sat beside me; he couldn't help but chuckle.

"Well, well, Nero. Look where our paths have led us. Stuck together in this charming little church. I never thought I'd see the day."

I rolled my eyes playfully. "Oh yes, spending the night in a creepy abandoned church is definitely my idea of a good time..."

"Who would have thought I'd be trapped here with you of all people?" Aiyden complained.

I arched an eyebrow, mustering a hint of defiance. "Believe me, I can think of a million other places I'd rather be than here. I can't believe I'll have to spend the night here," I lamented, frustration seeping into my voice. "Surely the storm will subside, and I can return to the comfort of my own bed, indulge in my nightly skincare routine, and wrap myself in luxurious sheets."

Aiyden regarded me with a hint of mockery dancing in his eyes, his lips curving into a wry smile.

"If only you had informed me that our meeting was cancelled," I grumbled, my annoyance evident. "I wouldn't have found myself in this situation!"

His response came as a confession, his voice tinged with a hint of vulnerability. "Except, Nero, I don't own a phone."

I stared at him incredulously, the weight of his words sinking in. "What? Who doesn't possess a phone in this day and age?"

His tone turned defensive, a flicker of frustration overshadowing his features. "Should I remind you of the conditions we endure due to your people? How on earth would I possess a phone?"

A heavy silence settled upon the room, his words echoing in the air. I could feel his intense gaze fixed upon me, his eyes seeking to unravel the enigma that was my existence.

"So, Aiyden," I started, trying to break the silence. "Tell me something interesting about yourself. I want to know what makes you tick."

"Well, well, Nero, since you're so curious, here's a little secret. I have a thing for motorbikes."

I arched an eyebrow, a smirk playing on my lips. "Motorbikes? Seriously? That's your thing?"

Aiyden chuckled, undeterred by my teasing. "Absolutely. There's nothing quite like the rush of the open road, the wind in your hair, the roar of the engine beneath you. It's freedom, Nero, pure freedom. It's something I never had here in the den, and being able to experience it, even for a few minutes is exhilarating to me. "

"Where on earth are you getting these motorbikes? You mean to tell me you have no phone, nor electricity in this village of yours but you have motorbikes?"

"At night I venture into town, in your part of the town and I go to the dump. I scavenger for pieces that I bring back here, and I build the motorbikes that we use to race after. I know it's extremely dangerous and I could get caught, but it is something important to me."

I shook my head, feigning disbelief. "You're telling me you spend your nights scavenging at the town's dump to build motorbikes? That's not exactly my idea of a good time."

He shrugged, a hint of excitement in his voice. "Oh, it may not be glamorous, but it's thrilling. Trust me, Nero, you don't know what you're missing. As soon as the storm is over, you're coming with me. We'll race under the moonlight, adrenaline coursing through our veins."

"You must be out of your mind if you think I'd ever get on one of those death traps. I prefer to keep my feet on the ground, thank you very much." I replied with indignation.

Aiyden's eyes sparkled with playful determination. "Come on, Nero. Life is about taking risks, pushing boundaries. But maybe your just not tough enough for it. I understand..."

As an idiot I felt right into his trap and said "Me?! Not tough enough for it? It is YOU who is not tough enough for my life."

"Is that so? I guess we will have to see then" replied Aiyden, "After the storm you are coming with me, you will build a motorbike with me to race, and in exchange I will try out one of your activities. We will see who can't keep up with the other."

"You got yourself a deal." I accepted.

As the night wore on, the conversation between us took on a new cadence, filled with playful banter and heated exchanges. Each word, each glance, carried an undercurrent of desire that danced on the edge of propriety. It was a dangerous game we played, tempting fate in the midst of the storm's fury.

"Are you scared?" Aiyden asked, his voice laced with concern.

"I'm not scared," I replied, trying to sound confident. "Just a little unnerved by the thought of sleeping here."

He chuckled, a low, melodic sound that sent shivers down my spine. "I can protect you from the storm, you know."

I raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corners of my lips "yeah ... I don't think so"

As if on cue, the storm unleashed its fury outside causing a tree to fall down and causing a big sound that startled me.

Aiyden glanced at me with concern. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," I replied, trying to steady my racing heart. But in that moment, something shifted between us. The lines between animosity and attraction blurred, and an undeniable chemistry crackled in the air.

His eyes, tracing the outline of my lips, held mine captive, a silent invitation lingering between us. The flicker of longing danced in the depths of his gaze, a confession we dared not utter aloud.

Time seemed to freeze in that charged moment, the storm's symphony fading into the background as our bodies gravitated closer. The walls of animosity we had built crumbled under the weight of our undeniable attraction, exposing the vulnerability we fought to conceal.

Aiyden's fingers grazed mine, the subtle touch sending a jolt of electricity through my veins. His foot tapped restlessly against the floor, mirroring the pulsating energy that surged within him.

I could feel the heat radiating from his body, drawing me in like a moth to a flame. His hunger-filled eyes undressed me, devouring every line and curve of my body, a secret understanding passing between us.

My own desire roared within, threatening to consume all reason. My fingers traced delicate patterns along the edge of my skirt, a nervous habit betraying the depths of my longing. The rise and fall of my chest betrayed the internal battle I waged, fighting to maintain composure.

But we both hid behind the veil of animosity, playing a dangerous game of denial. Coy smiles and playful banter masked the intensity that simmered beneath the surface, our desires churning in silent rebellion.

In the confined space of the storm-ridden church, our bodies yearned for connection. The dance of temptation and resistance became our reality, the pull of attraction fighting against the boundaries that society had placed upon us.

Unspoken words hung heavy in the air, desires cloaked in veiled gestures and stolen glances. The smouldering tension fuelled our every interaction, a fiery undercurrent threatening to ignite.

Yet, we clung to the illusion of indifference, fearing the consequences of acknowledging the burning passion that consumed us. Behind the walls of animosity and ego, we hid our true desires, surrendering to the tantalizing dance of longing and restraint.