I want to die.

The thought echoes in my mind like a relentless drumbeat, drowning out everything else. The pain is too much, the betrayal too raw.

I want him to die too, that goddamn asshole. Ethan Walker, who I dated for what felt like an eternity but turned out to be just a fleeting moment in his selfish life.

I can still see his smug smile, the way he used to charm his way out of any situation. But not this time. Not after what he did. Not after he tore my heart to shreds and left me to pick up the pieces.

I sit on the edge of the rooftop, the city sprawled out before me, its lights flickering like distant stars. The cool night air offers little comfort, but I welcome its numbing embrace. The rooftop is my sanctuary, a place where I can escape the suffocating memories that haunt me.

I light a cigarette, the flame casting flickering shadows across my face. Smoking used to be a vice I shared with Ethan, a way to bond over our shared rebellious streak. But now, it's become a crutch, a way to dull the ache that never seems to fade.

We always smoke with each other over the dumbest shit.

As I inhale the acrid smoke, I think back to the beginning, when everything seemed so perfect. Ethan was charming, attentive, everything I thought I wanted in a partner. But beneath the surface, there was darkness, a side of him he kept hidden from the world. I was blinded by love, unable to see the cracks in his facade until it was too late.

It started with small things, little white lies that grew into gaping chasms of deceit. He would disappear for hours, claiming to be working late or meeting friends, but his excuses never added up. I tried to ignore the nagging voice in my head, the one that told me something was wrong, but it grew louder with each passing day.

Then came the betrayal that shattered my world. I came home early one day, hoping to surprise Ethan with dinner, only to find him in our bed with another woman. The image is seared into my memory, a painful reminder of his betrayal.

I confronted him, demanded an explanation, but he just looked at me with those cold, calculating eyes and shrugged. He didn't even have the decency to apologize, to show any remorse for destroying our relationship. I still remember what he said, "I never cared about you," as he casually left the room, leaving me standing there, shattered and betrayed.

I breathed loudly

The woman hurriedly dressed herself and left without a word, her guilt written all over her face. I stood there, numb, trying to process his words. Had our entire relationship been a lie? Had he never cared about me, not even a little?

The truth hit me like a freight train, leaving me reeling. I had given him everything, my heart, my trust, my love, only to be tossed aside like yesterday's trash. The pain was unbearable, a constant ache that gnawed at my insides.

But amidst the pain, there was something else. Anger. Rage.

I wanted to kill him. I wanted my revenge.

And I did.

Don't be silly, I didn't kill him. I'm not that kind of person.

That's why I'm on the roof, not because he broke up with me, but because I slashed his car tires, burned all of his clothes, his expensive jewelry, and created rumors about him that would haunt him for the rest of his miserable life.

So I'm on the roof because I'm happy. Happy that I finally got my revenge, that I made him pay for what he did to me. Now he is out of my life, what I am supposed to do?

Lost in my thoughts, I didn't notice the sound at first. It started as a distant rumble, barely registering in my consciousness. But as it grew louder, more insistent, I was jolted back to reality. I heard a vroom sound and got frightened. I looked down, and to my horror, I saw four people chasing one guy on their bikes. The guy stopped his bike and ran in a hurry and got into the building where I live.

I don't know what the hell is going on, but it seems he is in trouble. I saw the other guys chasing him into the building. I sighed, do I really want to help him? I mean, why not. I have nothing to do. I walked to the door of the roof and ran down the floor to my floor.

The hallway was eerily quiet as I made my way to the stairwell. I could hear muffled voices and the sound of footsteps echoing through the building. I followed the sounds, my heart pounding in my chest. What was I doing? Why was I getting involved in this mess?

But deep down, I knew the answer. Despite everything, despite the pain and the anger, I couldn't just stand by and watch someone get hurt. Maybe it was the remnants of who I used to be, the part of me that still believed in doing the right thing, no matter how hard it was.

I reached the stairwell and descended quickly, my footsteps echoing off the walls. As I approached my floor, I could hear shouting and commotion. I braced myself and pushed open the door, stepping into the chaos that awaited me.

I saw him, the guy who is getting chased. He looks big. I ran to my apartment door and while he was running past me, I grabbed his arm and said, "Come here." I opened the door and let him into my house quickly. I closed the door. He is next to me and the door, towering over me. He is so tall and scary. Now I regret what I did. My head is looking straight at his chest. 

He lifted his helmet slightly, just enough for his eyes to meet mine. "Bella?" he said, his voice filled with surprise and confusion.

"Who is Bella?" I replied, my own confusion evident.

"Nothing," he said quickly, shaking his head. He lifted my chin up with a gloved hand. "Up here," he said, his voice now more composed. I replied, "Not my fault you are tall."

He let out a low chuckle, the sound somehow comforting despite the situation. "We don't have much time," he said, dodging any further questions. "They won't stop until they find me."

"Why were they chasing you?" I asked, my curiosity piqued despite my fear. He hesitated for a moment, then slowly removed his helmet, revealing striking eyes that seemed familiar. But I couldn't place them.

His eyes were a piercing shade of blue, so intense they seemed to cut through the dim light of the hallway. They were the eyes of a predator, dominant and unyielding, with a hunter's focus that sent a shiver down my spine. There was something primal in his gaze, a look that commanded attention and obedience, making me feel small and vulnerable in his presence. I couldn't look away, trapped by the power and ferocity in his stare. And yet, there was a haunting familiarity in them, a sense that I had seen those eyes before, felt their intensity somewhere in my past. It was a look that would make anyone stay in their place, unable to move or defy him.

We stood there in silence for a moment, the weight of the situation hanging heavy in the air. I didn't know who he was or why he was being chased, but in that moment, none of that mattered. All that mattered was that he was here, safe, and that maybe, just maybe, I had done something right for once.

I was still trying to make sense of the situation, but the question kept nagging at me. Who was Bella? Did I look like her? The silence between us grew heavy, and I couldn't hold back any longer.

"Also, keep it down. My roommate is sleeping, fuck that bitch," I said, trying to break the tension.

"I want to know who Bella is. Do I look like her?" I broke the silence, my curiosity getting the better of me.

"None of your business," he snapped, his voice harsh and defensive.

"Do I look like her?" I pressed, not willing to let it go. He hesitated for a moment and looked at my face intently, his eyes scanning every detail.

"No," he finally said, the word sounding forced.

"Do I look like your girlfriend?" I continued, refusing to back down.

"No, can you stop?" His frustration was evident, but I was enjoying this small bit of power I had over him.

"I'm gonna keep going until I know who she is, it's kinda fun. Do I look like your ex?"

This time, his reaction was different. "What? No."

A spark of realization hit me. So it's his ex. "Ah! So it's your ex?" I teased, a triumphant smirk on my face.

He glared at me, his eyes narrowing with irritation. "I will shut you up if you don't stop this bullshit," he growled, his voice low and dangerous.

He took a step back, his eyes scanning the living room. I watched as he moved, his gloved hand trailing over the back of the worn leather couch. His fingers brushed against the frayed edges of a throw pillow, lingering for a moment before moving on. He picked up a small porcelain figurine from the coffee table, turning it over in his hand as if it held some hidden secret.

The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of a single lamp casting long shadows on the walls. A stack of books lay haphazardly on the coffee table, their spines cracked and pages well-worn. He paused by the bookshelf, his eyes skimming over the titles before settling on a framed photograph. He lifted the frame, his gaze lingering on the image of my roommate and me at a party, both of us smiling brightly for the camera.

"Nice place," he muttered, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he set the frame back down.

I want to ask again. I crossed my arms, leaning against the wall as I watched him. "So, what's your story? Why were those guys chasing you?"

He ignored my question, instead walking over to the window and peeking through the blinds. His muscles were tense, every movement controlled and deliberate.

I sighed, exasperated by his silence. "Look, if you're going to stay here, the least you can do is tell me what's going on."

He turned to face me, his eyes locking onto mine with that same intense, predatory gaze. "It's safer for you if you don't know," he said flatly.

I rolled my eyes. "I'm already involved whether I like it or not. You barged into my life, so now you're stuck with me."

He let out a frustrated sigh. "Fine. They were chasing me because they want something I have," he said, his voice edged with irritation. "Something I can't let them get their hands on."

"Cryptic much?" I muttered. "Can you be any more vague?"

His jaw clenched, a muscle ticking in his cheek. "Trust me, the less you know, the better."

I pushed off the wall, stepping closer to him. "You keep saying that, but it doesn't make me feel any safer. In fact, it makes me feel more in danger."

He looked down at me, his eyes softening slightly. "I get it. But there's a lot at stake here. More than you can imagine."

I tilted my head, studying his face. "You know, for someone who wants me to stay out of it, you're not doing a great job of convincing me."

He let out a short laugh, shaking his head. "You're persistent, I'll give you that."

I shrugged. "I just want to know what I'm dealing with."

He took a deep breath, as if steeling himself for what he was about to say. "Alright. But you have to promise me you'll stay out of it as much as possible."

"I can't promise that," I said honestly. "But I'll do my best."

He nodded, seeming to accept that answer. "Fair enough."

He took a deep breath, his eyes darkening with the weight of what he was about to reveal. "They're part of a group that deals in illegal activities—smuggling, trafficking, you name it. I used to be one of them, but I got out. Or at least, I tried to. They want me back, or more specifically, they want something I took from them."

I frowned, trying to process his words. "And what did you take?"

"Information. Documents that could bring down their entire operation. If they get it back, they can continue their business without any threat. But if I keep it, I can expose them."

I felt a chill run down my spine. "So you're a whistleblower?"

"Something like that," he said, his voice tight with tension. "But it's not just about exposing them. It's about stopping them from hurting more people."

I glanced at the door, half-expecting those men to burst through any second. "And now they're here, in my building, looking for you."

"Yeah," he admitted. "But they won't find me, not if I stay here."

"How long do you plan on staying?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

"Until I can figure out my next move," he said, his tone resigned.

I nodded, feeling a strange mix of fear and resolve. "Alright. But if you're staying here, we need some ground rules."

"Ground rules?" He raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in his eyes.

"Yes, ground rules," I said firmly. "First, you need to tell me if there's anything I should be worried about. No more keeping me in the dark."

He nodded. "Fair enough. What else?"

"Second, no messing with my stuff," I continued. "You may be a guest here, but you're not free to rummage through my things."

"Agreed," he said, a small smile playing on his lips.

"And third," I hesitated, unsure if I should say it. "If things get too dangerous, you leave. I don't want to get caught in the crossfire."

His smile faded, replaced by a serious expression. "I promise. If things get too dangerous, I'll leave."

"Good," I said, feeling a bit more in control. "Now, let's figure out how to keep you hidden."

He nodded, glancing around the room. "Thanks. I know this isn't easy."

"It's not," I admitted. "But if you're telling the truth, then it's worth it."

Is it really?

I said, watching him closely. "So, what's the plan?"

He set the paperweight down, turning to face me. "The plan is to lay low for now. I need to contact some people who can help. In the meantime, we keep a low profile and act normal."

I nodded, a sense of determination settling in my chest. "Alright. Let's get through this together." I was excited. I don't know what is gonna happen to me but I like challenges.

The tension in the room was thick, and I knew we both needed a distraction from the gravity of the situation. I decided to take matters into my own hands.

"Sit on this couch," I said, motioning to the worn leather sofa. "Let's play truth or dare."

He raised an eyebrow, clearly taken aback. "Are you serious?"

"Why not? I'm bored," I replied with a shrug. A playful grin tugged at the corner of my lips, hoping to lighten the mood.

He stared at me for a moment, then sighed. "Fine."

He walked over to the couch and sat down, his muscular frame taking up more space than I'd anticipated. I followed suit, settling down on the opposite end, feeling the cool leather against my skin. The lamp cast a soft, warm glow over us, creating an intimate atmosphere despite the circumstances.

"Alright," I said, leaning back and crossing my legs. "Truth or dare?"

He looked at me with those piercing eyes, a mixture of curiosity and wariness. "Truth."

I thought for a moment, then decided to start with something simple. "Why were you really in that group? The one you're running from?"

He ran a hand through his hair, his eyes darkening. "I had no choice. My family... they were in trouble, and joining was the only way to protect them. But I realized too late what I'd gotten myself into."

It sounds like the guy that I've been trying to get my revenge on, for years. He had the same experience.

I nodded, absorbing his words. "Your turn."

"Truth or dare?" he asked, his voice softer now.

"Truth," I replied, curious about what he'd ask.

"Why do you hate your roommate so much?" His question caught me off guard, but I realized it was only fair, considering what I'd asked him.

"She betrayed me," I said simply. "She was supposed to be my friend, but she turned her back on me when I needed her most."

He nodded, a flicker of understanding in his eyes. "Your turn."

"Truth or dare?" I asked again, leaning forward slightly.

"Dare," he said, a hint of a challenge in his voice.

I smirked. "I dare you to take off that helmet and show me your face."

He stiffened, his hand instinctively going to the mask. "I can't."

"Why not?" I pressed, my curiosity piqued.

"It's too dangerous. If anyone sees my face, they can recognize me. It's a risk I can't take."

I sighed, realizing he was serious. "Fine, your turn."

"Truth or dare?" he asked, his tone more relaxed now.

"Dare," I said, wanting to keep things interesting.

"I dare you to tell me your biggest regret," he said, his eyes locking onto mine.

I took a deep breath, the weight of the question settling on my shoulders. "My biggest regret is trusting people who didn't deserve it. It's cost me more than I can ever get back."

He nodded, the silence between us heavy with unspoken words.

"My turn again," I said, eager to keep the game going. "Truth or dare?"

"Truth," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"What's the real reason you're doing all this? Is it just about your family, or is there something more?" I asked, my eyes searching his for answers.

He looked away, his jaw clenching. "It's more than just my family. It's about redemption. I've done things I'm not proud of, and this is my way of making it right."

The vulnerability in his voice surprised me, and I felt a pang of empathy for him. We sat in silence for a moment, the game forgotten as we both processed what had been said.

"Maybe we should stop playing," I said softly, feeling the weight of our confessions hanging in the air.

He shook his head. "No, it's... it's good to talk. It's been a long time since I've had a real conversation with someone."

I nodded, understanding what he meant. "Okay. One more question. Truth or dare?"

"Dare," he said, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

"I dare you to tell me something you've never told anyone else," I said, my heart pounding in my chest.

He looked at me, his eyes softening. "I've never told anyone how much I regret leaving her. Bella. She was everything to me, and I let her go. It haunts me every day."

The raw emotion in his voice took me by surprise, and I felt a lump form in my throat. "I'm sorry," I said, my voice barely a whisper.

He nodded, his gaze dropping to the floor. "We all have our demons. We just have to find a way to live with them."

We sat in silence, the weight of his confession hanging in the air. I watched as he leaned back, his eyes closing for a moment, as if trying to escape the pain. The room felt smaller, more intimate, and I realized that despite everything, I was starting to understand him.

"Your turn," he said suddenly, breaking the silence. "Truth or dare?"

"Truth," I said, feeling a strange sense of comfort in our shared vulnerability.

"Do you really think you can trust me?" he asked, his eyes opening to meet mine.

I hesitated, searching for the right words. "I want to. But trust isn't something that comes easily for me anymore. You'll have to earn it."

He nodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Fair enough."

As our game of truth or dare continued, I decided to ask him a question that had been on my mind since he arrived.

"What's your name?" I asked, studying his reaction carefully.

He hesitated for a moment, as if weighing his options. "Kai," he finally said, his voice soft but unwavering. "Your turn."

"Lena," I replied, feeling a strange sense of relief at finally knowing his name.

"Lena," he repeated, the name rolling off his tongue in a way that made my heart skip a beat. "It suits you."

I blushed, feeling a warmth spread through me at his words. "Thanks," I said, trying to hide my smile.

I found myself opening up to him in ways I never thought possible. I told him about my past, my dreams, my fears. And in turn, he shared his own struggles, his own regrets, his own hopes for the future.