Hose didn't expect to see her here. Not tonight, not like this.
The room was silent now, only the faint hum of the city outside breaking the stillness. Time felt like it was standing still, but everything around him was moving forward.
Nine years. It had been nine hellish years since he walked away from that house, from his family, from her.
Svetlana.
He leaned against the window, the bitter smoke from the cigarette in his hand curling up into the air, mixing with the stale, suffocating air of the room.
Svetlana was gone now, just moments ago. But the way she stood there, looking at him with those innocent eyes, that defiance in her posture; it was burned into his mind. Her body was different, grown. Too grown.
That dress... Christ.
It wasn't just the dress; it was her. Everything about her; she was a total stranger now. But not in the way Hose expected. She was fierce, confident… dangerously beautiful.
He couldn't believe it. She was just a child the last time he saw her, barely eight… if not seven. She was always clinging to him, always asking him to teach her everything: how to fight, how to win, how to survive.
God, she used to piss him off as a little rat. Her endless questions, her constant teasing, daring him to chase her around the yard while she laughed like she owned the damn world. Then, he used to pretend he was annoyed.
But hell, he didn't mind it; not really.
She was the light in that house. The only reason it felt like a home.
But now? Now, she wasn't a child anymore.
She shouldn't have been here, not in a place like this.
The black fox mask felt heavier than usual. Hose reached up, tracing the sharp edges with his fingers. But he didn't take it off. It wasn't just a mask; it was the most convenient barrier, a shield between the man he was and the life he'd lived. Between who he was now and who he used to be.
He thought back to the phone call earlier that day.. at roughly 9am. Dad had sounded... different. Weary. Maybe softer. "She's doing well now," he had said. "Svet's grown up. You'll see her for yourself soon."
Hose didn't believe his word, at all. Svet? Grown up? That little rat is better off being tiny.
But he believed now.
He didn't want to think about how her shiny eyes widened when she saw him sitting there, how they practically glowed with admiration, a so reflection of everything she had once thought he was.
He felt her gaze linger on his tattoos. Linger on the mask that hid his face. Even with the tension in his body, Hose managed to keep his distance from her tonight.
She didn't recognize him. Not even close.
And Hose didn't stop her when she left. He should've said something. Told her who he was. But what the hell could he say?
"Hey, Svetlana. It's me. Your brother. Surprise."
But now he wasn't just her brother, was he? He was Hose. The stepbrother. The half-brother. The actual outsider. The one who shared a father with her, but never really belonged.
Mrs. Harper, her mother, had always kept him at arm's length, even before the truth came out. He wasn't hers. The woman knew it. She knew it. Just the three of them. And that truth had hung over the house like a stupid storm cloud for himself, Dad and Mrs. Harper.
Dad had tried. He tried to treat Hose like Kyle, Carl, and Carlos. Tried to make him feel like he mattered. But it was never enough.
So Hose left.
And for nine long years, he stayed the hell away.
He thought it would be easier that way. For everyone.
But then Dad called. Said it was time to come back.
And maybe, just maybe, he could make things different. But seeing Svetlana again? Christ, it wasn't supposed to be like this. She wasn't supposed to look like that. Not like this.
She was still the innocent girl in his memories; the one who believed in him, trusted him to protect her.
But the young woman he saw tonight? She didn't need his protection.
She was so fierce. Fiery. She'd grown up into something he couldn't even recognize.
And yet, there was still that vulnerability, that brokenness in her eyes. It was a reminder of the girl he used to know. The one he left behind as well.
Hose crushed the cigarette into the ashtray, his hands trembling and itching to do something. Anything.
But he stayed still, staring at the door Svetlana had just walked through, wishing he could stop the flood of thoughts and the gnawing desire building in him like a stupid sickness.
What the hell was Svetlana doing here? Why did he just let her go, like that?
"A.D.," a voice called from the hallway, snapping Hose out of my thoughts.
He turned, jaw clenched, his body tensing. One of his men stood there, unreadable and his face like stone.
"She's gone," the man said with a cold tone.
Hose nodded. "Good."
But it wasn't at all good. It wasn't good at all.
He leaned back in the chair, his mind replaying that moment when she slipped into the room. The way her hair framed her face, the way she looked at him like he was just another stranger.
To her, he wasn't Hose. He wasn't her brother. He wasn't anything.
He was just the man in the black fox mask.
And maybe that was for the best.
But good lord, the way she so much looked at him? That made heat crawl under his skin. It was so unbearable.
He should have stopped her, told her to go home, and leave this goddamn mess behind as an order from her eldest brother. But he couldn't.
Hose couldn't pull her into this life. Not when it was this bad and ugly. This broken. This dangerous.
He did the only thing he could do. Tell her to "Go home."
"Boss."
Hose groaned, already so exhausted. "What?"
The man hesitated before speaking. "She's dancing with an Oscar on the last floor."
"Fuck."