Aiden's POV:

I told myself I wouldn’t come here again. 

But here I am, standing in the dark, under her window, the cold cutting through my jacket like it has something to prove. 

Lana Petrov is fire in human form. She’s untouchable and infuriating all at once; smarter than anyone in the room, sharper than a knife, and completely unaware of the chaos she leaves in her wake. She’s the reason of not just my living, but the reason I lose my damn mind every day, the reason of my restraint, my control, my destruction. 

She tests every edge of me until I’m seconds away from snapping, and still, I crave her. Every glance, every word, every time she looks at me like she hates me, it feeds the part of me that’s been starving for something real. She doesn’t even realize it yet, but she’s the only thing keeping me sane… and the only thing driving me insane at the same time. 

The air smells like rain, dirt, and gasoline. Like trouble. 

There's her window, glowing faintly against the dark like a goddamn lighthouse calling me home.

The petal I pressed against her window looks almost black in this light, curled around the note I slipped beneath it.

The words on the note looked harmless when I wrote them. Now they feel like a confession.

Because the truth is, I do want her scared. Just not scared of me. 

Scared of what she does to me. Of what happens when she looks at me like that, like she knows there’s something broken in me and she still wants to touch it. 

I drag a hand down my face, exhaling through my teeth.
The street’s empty, silent. Her house glows faintly through the curtains, warm and unreachable. The kind of warmth I don’t deserve.

I take one last look, then turn away, stuffing my hands in my pockets.

“Why the hell do I do this?” I mutter, voice low, almost swallowed by the night.

Enzo’s laugh echoes in my memory, dark, reckless, like sin and control. 

Easton’s teasing, sliding on my shoulder like a shadow, like chaos and charm. 

Alistair, head buried in a book, probably trying to make sense of a world that refuses to make sense. He’s the perfect description of mind and silence.  

They call us the Royals, because no one dares to challenge us, each of us carry a crown made of something different that people admire. They are not aware of the weight, the burden, or the insane amount of power it holds. 

It’s not until I’m halfway down the street that my phone buzzes.

Easton: Where the hell are you?
Of course. I smirk.

Me: Taking a walk.
Easton: At 1 a.m.?
Me: Yeah.
Easton: Tell your demons goodnight for me. 

I don’t answer. 

I shove my hands into my pockets, grit my teeth, and stand. The air is cold, sharp. It bites at my face. 

I get on the bike, engine roaring low. The street disappears beneath me as I circle the block, checking every window. Every light. Every shadow. 

When I get home, the lights are still on downstairs.

My step-mother’s voice cuts through the air, sharp and tired. “Aiden, where were you?”

I kick my shoes off, muttering, “Out.”

Her eyes narrow, a perfect shade of suspicion. “Out doing what?” 

“Existing.”

She sighs, muttering something about me being like my father. 

That’s the thing about her, she only loves what she can control. Which means she doesn’t love much.

I head upstairs before she can keep going. My room smells like cigarettes, paint, and rain, it's all the proof I need that I still have a pulse. 

I drop onto my bed and stare at the ceiling. My phone lights up again, but it’s not her. Not Lana. 

I told myself I wouldn’t text her tonight. That I’d give her space. But space is a funny thing. Too much of it feels like suffocation. 

I scroll to her name anyway.
My angel. 

I type, Sleep well, sweetheart, then delete it.
Type again, You don’t have to be scared. Delete it.

In the end, I didn't send anything. She already knows I’m thinking of her.

She always knows. 

I fall asleep late, thinking about her warmth and the upcoming load of shit at school and from my dad. 

When I wake up, it’s still dark outside. I woke up before the alarm, still half in the dream where she’s laughing and I’m trying to touch her but my hands are covered in blood.

Normal, right?

The mirror doesn’t lie, dark circles, jaw tense, eyes still hungry for something I shouldn’t want. 

I take a quick shower and wear my already ironed clothes, I don’t bother with breakfast today. Jude probably left by now, and I don’t want to hear my step-mom’s nagging. 

I see the three assholes near the gate; Enzo, Easton, Alistair, looking like they own the place. 

But that would be a lie. Because I do. 

Enzo claps me on the shoulder when I walk up. “You look like shit.” 

“Thanks.” 

“Rough night?” 

“Define rough.” 

He grins, that devil-may-care smirk that always pisses teachers off. “The kind where you disappear at 1 a.m. and come back looking like you fought your soul.” 

“Something like that.” 

Easton leans against his car, twirling his keys. “So, the rumors are true. Lana skipped school yesterday. You know anything about that?” he wiggles his eyebrows. 

I glance at him, sharp. “Why?” 

He shrugs. “She’s hot. People talk.” 

“People should shut the fuck up.” 

Enzo laughs under his breath. “There it is. The famous Reeve temper. Calm your ass, Reeve.” 

Alistair just shakes his head. “That’s why you weren’t at the game last night?” 

“Maybe.” I reply with the stereotypical asshole tone. 

I knew about the game and yes, I remembered, but I wasn’t in the mood. Especially not after my dad’s business partner set up a meeting with me since my dear old man wasn’t available. 

Easton makes a face. “You better not miss the race tonight, Reeve, or you’re—” 

“I’m what?” I raise a brow. 

“My beeest friend,” he sings. 

 Enzo laughs. “She’s messing with your head, man.” 

I smirk. “Yeah? Maybe I like it.” 

We head inside, the four of us cutting through the crowd like knives through fog.
Every stare follows. Some out of curiosity. Some out of fear.
But all I can see is her.

She’s at her locker. Lana, white turtleneck, jeans, looking untouchable. Indifferent. She’s surrounded by the ‘Golden Girls’ which includes my little sister and my girl. 

The other two? I don’t care. I know the blonde very much interests Enzo, considering he’s a fucking loser who’s drooling standing beside me. And the chaotic mess is Easton’s nemesis, which is definitely going to result in a hate-fuck. 

Easton can’t catch a goddamn break when it’s about her. 

But Lana… she’s pretending she doesn’t see me.

I walk past her, close enough to feel her perfume, faint and sweet, roses and something sharp underneath. 

Our eyes meet for a second. That’s all it takes.
The hallway disappears.

She looks so goddamn beautiful that it's taking every inch of my self-control to not kiss her right there.  

Easton’s saying something beside me, but I’m not listening.

She turns away, pretending to talk to her friends. But I catch the slight tremor in her hand. She feels me too. 

The classes go in a blur, focusing on lectures, doing work, and glaring at Parker in chemistry when he tried to talk to my girl. 

By lunchtime, I’ve scoped the cafeteria.  

Lana’s with Evelyn, Stella, Jude.
Evelyn’s laughing loudly, throwing looks at Easton from across the room.
Stella’s staring at Enzo, cheeks pink, fake demure.
Jude, my little sister’s adopted version of darkness, folding shadows and sharp edges. 

She watches me like she already knows. Like she’s observing my obsession. 

And Lana. Sitting there like she owns nothing, gives nothing, dares anyone to claim her.

I move toward her, weaving between tables. 

“Hey,” I say softly, not loud enough to attract the others. Just enough for her to hear.

Her eyes snap up. Sharp, dark, and unreadable. 

“You’re impossible,” she mutters, voice low.

I lean against the table. Close enough she can feel it. “And yet… here I am.”

Her lips twitch. Not a smile. Not yet. But the slightest curl.
I noticed it. Always notice it.

“Why are you here?” she asks, suspicious. Defensive.

“Because you’re here,” I say simply. Not to protect, not to claim, not to ogle. Just… because.

She scoffs, shoving her hair back. “You can’t just be here because of me.”

“Try me,” I whisper.

Jude’s eyes flicker between us, assessing. Easton mutters under his breath. Evelyn hisses something about drama. But it’s just noise. Nothing matters except her, and the heat behind her eyes when she fights, when she resists.

I see Lana’s eyes widen and then notice that Evelyn has splashed her apple juice on Easton, grinning like a girl in a cartoon. 

Stella, Evelyn, and Enzo burst into laughter and Lana’s laugh follows.

God, I missed her laugh. It’s my very own special drug. 

Her eyes wrinkle around the corners and I’m mesmerized by her carefree laugh that sounds like music to my ears. It makes my wrenched, barely existing heart skip beats. 

“What the fuck, Eve?!” Easton growls.

Evelyn smirks. “Did you get wet?”

“Fuck you, you’re like a never ending nightmare.” Easton groans. 

“Says the failed abortion.” 

“I hope that when you think you put your phone on charge but when you wake up it’s actually dead!” 

“I hope you step in water with socks on!”

“I hope you submit the wrong assignment!”

“I hope you never l—” 

Jude groans this time. “Shut up already.” 

Alistair and I are the only ones who still have a poker face, used to their drama. 

“And you got some of your juice on me too, bitch.” Stella whines.

They continue their nonsense talk as I observe her like a creep, she’s smiling now, talking with everyone. It bothers me that she can talk to my idiotic friends, but not with me. 

Our eyes meet once, she holds my gaze before looking down at her lap, turning away.

Cute.  

After classes end, Enzo, Easton, and Alistair are waiting by the lockers. 

Enzo smirks. “Hide your boner, Reeve.” 

“Fuck off, Archer.” I scowl. 

Easton looks distracted. “The dickheads are making a bet about my baby,” 

“What?” I ask. 

“The Vipers are making a bet about my black Harley!” He elaborated. “I’m so fucking them up tonight.” He glares at me then.

I raise a brow. Easton loves his bikes, like I do, we race the most. Enzo is more on the car’s side, while Alistair is somewhere in between. He mostly doesn’t care about racing as much as he values sports. 

“And who the fuck gave them the audacity to make the bet?”  

“The one time I lost, remember? I owed them one.” He sighs. 

“Well, I’m racing today, aren’t I?” I ask.

They all nod.

“If you don’t ditch like last night,” Alistair mocks. 

I roll my eyes. “I’ll come, Carter.” 

Enzo closes his locker. “Alright then, let’s go to the den for now,” 

I nod. The ‘den’ was actually our place to hang, it’s similar to a cabin, just bigger and cozy. The boys decorated it a little, mainly Easton with his trash along with Enzo, the dickhead.  

The walk to the den is across the back field behind the school, the grass still wet from last night’s rain. The wind carries that after-storm bite, cold enough to sting but not enough to stop any of us. 

Enzo and Easton are arguing about something stupid, engine torque or who looks better in leather jackets, while Alistair’s scrolling through his phone, calm as ever, the resident unbothered genius.

I’m only half-listening.

Because every few steps, her laugh repeats in my head.

That small, bright sound.

That sound she didn’t give me.

I shove my hands in my pockets and stare ahead, jaw tight.

Enzo pushes my shoulder lightly. “You thinking about her?”

“No.” Lie.

Easton snorts. “Yeah, and I’m a fucking ballerina.”

“Shut the hell up.”

But they know me too well, at least when it comes to her. They know what Lana does to my temper, my control, my everything. They just don’t understand the way she burns under my skin, the way she fills every damn silence.

The den comes into view, we found it when we were taking a walk together in middle school. It’s in the middle of nowhere, almost like a haunted house. Looks abandoned from the outside, a pretty sort of abandoned.

But inside? It’s ours. 

And everyone knows not to step foot here unless they want trouble, most people don’t know it exist, like a hideout. 

Enzo unlocks the padlock and pushes the door open. The place smells like faint smoke, cedar, leather, and whatever cologne Easton drowned himself in this morning.

Easton throws his bag onto the couch. “I’m showering that bitch juice off before the race, I swear to God.”

Enzo grins. “You sure it wasn’t an improvement?”

“I hope you choke.”

Their arguing fades into the background as I take the farthest couch, drop down, and lean my head back. I exhale slowly. My body still carries the tension from the hallway. From walking past her. From not touching her. From not marking her in front of everyone like the selfish asshole I am.

The others keep talking, something about tonight’s route, which of the Vipers will be showing up, who’s running bets, but none of it really registers.

All I can think is…

She laughed. 

And I wasn’t the reason.

“Reeve,” Alistair says suddenly, snapping me back. He doesn’t raise his voice, but it cuts through everything. “You good?”

I open one eye. He’s leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, studying me with that quiet intensity that makes it impossible to lie.

“Yeah,” I mutter.

“You’re lying,” he says simply.

Enzo jumps in. “He’s brooding. Leave him. It’s his hobby.”

Easton smirks. “If brooding was an Olympic sport, he’d have more medals than our trophy case.”

“Eat shit,” I say automatically.

But I’m grateful for their noise, their banter, the distraction, anything that keeps me from thinking about her too hard. Because when I think about her, I get reckless.

And when I get reckless, I ruin everything.

Thirty minutes pass in a blur. The boys argue about snacks, about the race route, about whether Enzo’s car looks like it belongs in a mid-life crisis film. I scroll through my phone, staring at Lana’s name in my messages again.

Untouched.
Empty.
Mocking.

Just like me.

Fuck, I’m pathetic. 

“Dude,” Easton says suddenly, leaning off the armrest he’s half-sliding off, “if you stare at her name any harder, your phone’s gonna combust.”

“Mind your business.”

“No.” He grins. “Not when your business is this entertaining.”

Before I can answer, the den door creaks open.

We all look.

It’s Jude.

Of fucking course.

She walks in like she owns the place, even though she technically doesn’t, black skirt, dark eyeliner, and a face that could kill with one glance. She tosses a notebook at Alistair’s lap.

“You forgot this,” she says.

Alistair’s mouth twitches, his version of gratitude. “Thanks.”

She turns to leave, but pauses, eyes flicking to me for a split second.

“What?” I snap.

Jude tilts her head. “She was asking for you.”

My heart drops then kicks back alive in the same breath.

The boys all turn to stare at me.

“What?” Enzo blurts.

“Who?” Easton demands.

Alistair already knows.

Jude smirks. “Use your one brain cell. Lana.”

I sit up straighter. “What did she say?”

“She asked where you were,” Jude replies simply. “In math class. Don’t bother her about it, though.” 

My pulse spikes.

She asked. 

She thought about me. 

She noticed my absence.

The relief that floods me is almost embarrassing.

Easton whistles, almost sarcastically. “Damn. You got her hooked.”

“She hates him,” Enzo argues. 

“She hates everyone,” Jude says. “And if you think that’s hate, you’re blind.”

I stand. “I’m going out.”

“Where?” Alistair asks.

“Walk.” Lie again. 

My heart knows exactly where it’s going.
But I don’t let them see that.

Easton laughs. “Tell your demons I said hi.” That has to be his favourite thing to say. 

“Tell yours to shut the fuck up.” 

I leave the den before they can say anything else. 

The cold hits me instantly. The wind feels sharper, like it’s trying to carve my thoughts into clarity.

I don’t walk toward the field or the side gate.

My feet take me toward the other building.

Toward the side where her locker is.

I’m not delusional enough to expect her to be there. It’s past school hours. The hallway windows glow faintly from the janitor’s lights. The campus is mostly empty.

But something inside me wants to be close to the last place I saw her.

I lean against the cold brick wall outside the east wing entrance and exhale a long breath.

I shouldn’t be doing this.
I shouldn’t be this deep.
I shouldn’t let anyone have this kind of power over me.

But here I am.

A sound breaks the silence, I hear light footsteps on pavement.

I freeze.

Then I see her.

Lana.

Walking alone, heading toward the parking lot with her books hugged to her chest. The wind pushes strands of hair out of her face. Her cheeks are flushed from the cold. She’s wearing that same white turtleneck. And she looks like something too soft for this world, too pure to be walking the same cursed ground I do.

She stops when she sees me.

Her eyes widened, enough to tell me she wasn’t expecting this.

“Aiden?” she says, breath fogging in the cold. “What are you doing here?”

Her voice hits me like a punch to the ribs.

I shrug lightly. “Walking.”

“In front of the math building?”

I smirk. “Coincidence.”

“It’s never a coincidence with you.”

Fair.

She takes a step closer without seeming to realize it.

My pulse spikes.

“You left early,” she says.

“You noticed.”

“I notice everything,” she mutters.

My chest tightens.

She looks down at her shoes. “I didn’t… I wasn’t avoiding you.”

The fuck?

“That what you think I think?” I ask.

“Yes,” she says softly.

Well.
That does things to me.
Bad things.

I take one slow step toward her. “And are you?”

She swallows. “No.”

“Good.”
My voice is low. Rough.
Possessive as hell.

Her eyes flick up to mine. There’s something raw there. Something vulnerable she tries to hide but can’t.

“I have to go,” she whispers.

“Lana—”

“No,” she shakes her head. “Don’t. Whatever you’re about to say. Don’t.”

That stings more than it should.

“You think I’m going to hurt you?” I ask quietly.

She looks at me for a long moment. “No. I think you’re going to ruin me.”

My breath catches.

And before I can respond, she turns and walks away.

Those words echo in my skull.

I think you’re going to ruin me.

She has no idea.

I already am.

I love it and hate it at the same time. 

I decided I won't go back to the den. I drove home first. Not to see anyone. Not to get ready.

Not that it’s a home, anyway. ‘Mr. Reeve’ is almost always busy at work to be home and follows his schedule like a religion. 

To breathe.
To process.
To let her voice burn a hole through me.

By the time I’m showered, changed, and ready, it’s dark out.

The race is in an abandoned industrial area thirty minute drive away from campus, a place full of empty warehouses, cracked asphalt, and shadows deep enough to hide a murder.

Perfect ambiance.

My bike growls beneath me as I pull up. Music blasts from someone’s shitty speakers. The Vipers are already here, revving their engines like idiots. People crowd the edges of the makeshift track.

Enzo’s car is parked near the gate. Easton leans against his Harley like it’s a throne. Alistair’s sitting on a shipping container reading a book like he’s at a spa. 

So the bikers are racing first today.

Then I see her.

My heart stops.

Lana.
At the race.

Wearing a black jacket over that turtleneck, arms crossed, standing beside Jude, Evelyn, Stella, looking completely out of place yet somehow commanding the entire damn space.

How is she here out of all places? 

She shouldn’t be here.
Not in this chaos.
Not near the Vipers.
Not near me when I’m not safe.

I pull up beside the guys. Easton bumps my shoulder.

“Took you long enough.”

Enzo nods toward Lana with a wicked grin. “Looks like you have an audience.”

“Shut up.”

Alistair glances over my shoulder and closes his book. “Better race well. She’s watching.”

I swing off the bike, jaw clenched.

She is watching.

And when our eyes meet from across the crowd, her breath catches.

So does mine.

The Vipers’ leader, Rhett, steps forward. “Reeve. Glad you showed up.”

I take my place at the start line, ignoring him. Ignoring everyone.

My focus narrows to two things:

The road.

And the fact that she’s here.

Easton revs his Harley beside me. “Don’t crash, lover boy.”

“Crash your face.”

He laughs.

Engines roar.
The crowd hushes.
Lana’s eyes lock on me from the sidelines.

And for the first time in a long time, I feel alive.

Rhett raises his arm. “Ready—”

My heartbeat syncs with the growl of my bike.

“Set—”

Her breath fogs in the dark.

“GO—!”

I launch forward as my bike roars to life. 

The world becomes a blur of cold, adrenaline, and obsession.

I ride like the devil’s trying to catch me, like she’s the only thing I’d slow down for.

The boys chase behind me. The Vipers try to flank me. But it’s useless.

Tonight? I’m untouchable.

Because she’s watching.
Because she’s mine, even if she doesn’t know it yet.

I lead the race, increasing speed and taking reckless turns, the adrenaline at peak making it hazy. At times, this is what I live for. 

I passed the red line at the end, winning by a large margin, obviously.

But that’s not what matters.

What matters is the way she looks at me afterward.

Like she can’t decide whether she wants to kiss me or run from me.

And both possibilities make my blood boil.

I take off my helmet, tossing it onto the bike seat. My hair’s a mess, my pulse is wild, adrenaline still buzzing under my skin.

The boys come up to me, Easton grinning. “I knew you would win!”

“As always.” 

They all clap me on the back, cheering. 

“You coming to the party later?” Enzo asks.

I hum absentmindedly, there is always a party after we win a race, which means often. 

They smirk and leave, I look up and see her walking towards me. 

She approaches slowly. Hesitant. Careful. Like she’s unsure if she’s stepping toward danger or safety.

Probably both.

Jude watches us from behind her, arms crossed. Evelyn and Stella whisper dramatically. Easton’s wiping sweat off his forehead and trying to flirt with Evelyn even though she’s flicking him off. Enzo’s leaning against his car pretending not to stare at Stella.

But all of that fades.

It’s just her.

When she stops in front of me, the wind catches her hair. Her eyes search my face like she’s trying to solve an equation she never wanted to learn.

“Aiden,” she whispers.

My name has never sounded better.

“I didn’t know you raced,” she says, voice barely above the engines cooling around us.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

She looks down. “I shouldn’t be here.”

“No,” I say bluntly. “You shouldn’t.”

Her head snaps up.

“But I’m glad you are.”

Her breath stutters.

The distance between us isn’t much, barely a few inches, but it feels like the entire world is contained inside that tiny space.

“You scared me,” she says quietly.

“I know.”

“I don’t like being scared.”

“I don’t like scaring you.”

Silence stretches, warm and cold at once.

I lean in the slightest bit. “But you came anyway.”

“I did, mostly because Evelyn dragged me.”

“Why?”

She swallows hard. “I don’t know.”

I smirk, but there’s no humor in it. Just hunger. Just the truth.

“You do.” 

Her lips part. Barely.

Something shifts in the air between us, something electric, sharp, and inevitable.

I lower my voice, tone dropping to something darker. “Say it again.”

“What?”

“That I scare you.”

“Aiden—”

“Say it.”

Her breath trembles. “You scare me.”

“Good,” I murmur, stepping closer until her back almost hits the side of my bike. “Because you terrify me.”

Her eyes widen.

I lift my hand slowly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She doesn’t pull away.

I’m so close I can feel her pulse racing.

So close I can smell her perfume, roses and danger.

So close I could ruin both of us with one wrong move.

“You shouldn’t be near me,” She says.

“I know.”

“You shouldn’t want me.”

“I know.”

“Then why?” She looks me dead in the eyes.

“Because you looked for me today.” 

She inhales sharply. “Aiden.”

But before I can touch her, before I can say something I’ll never be able to take back, Jude grabs her wrist. 

Great fucking timing, little sister.

“Come on,” she mutters. “Before someone takes a picture.”

Lana doesn’t look away from me.

Not even once.

Not even as Jude drags her back toward the girls.

Not even as Evelyn shoves Easton off her shoulder and Stella giggles at something Enzo whispered.

Not even when she reaches the edge of the crowd.

Her eyes stay locked on mine.

Until she disappears into the night.

I don’t breathe until she’s gone.

Easton whistles beside me. “Dude. You’re fucked.” 

Enzo claps me on the back. “She’s either gonna kill you or marry you.”

Alistair smirks. “Both seem likely.”

I ignore them.

I just watch the direction she left, thinking one thing.

I told myself I wouldn’t come back for her.

Lie.

I’m fucked. 

*****

To Be Continued.

First chapter from Aiden, and I promise it only gets better.