Page 232 of Fatality

“And what does that have to do with me? Or the shipment?”

I don't know how to say it. Kyle is my deepest wound, and telling Evren about him feels like opening my chest to a monster and hoping he leaves my heart where it is

“A lot…”

“Fucking speak Riven.”

I sigh.

“I stole from you to make you come to me, not the opposite. I wasn't about to call or text you on your comm after telling you to get the fuck out.” I snap. “What was I supposed to say? ‘Hey, freak, it's Troublemaker. Remember me?’” I imitate his voice.

His eyes narrow.

“Yes, you could have!” he shouts back. “Instead, you stole my shipment, made me hit you, and almost got your fingers cut off!”

He's breathing hard.

“For two weeks, I watched you in your loft, watched you sleep, going on with your rich, spoiled-brat life while I was spiraling in the damn silence!”

I step back, my eyes widening—not because of the stalking, but because of the raw honesty.

“I'm not sorry,” I say calmly. “I'm not going to apologize for protecting myself from you.”

I take a step toward him.

“Rich, spoiled-brat life...” I pause, smiling bitterly. “I'm rich. I'm an heiress. But I'm definitely not spoiled, Evren. My parents hate me.”

I grit my teeth, my nails digging into my palms, making my already cut hand bleed more on his floor, the stinging sensation making the ache in my chest a little easier to bear.

“I...” The words grip my throat. “I need you, Evren. For my dead brother. That's the person I cared about.”

I look up at him, his eyes widen slightly.

“Why do you need me?” He looks away, his jaw clenching, his nails digging into his own biceps.

“Because his death is tied to the Lower Layers...” I let the words hang in the air for a second. “And you're a gang leader. And Kenji was there the night of the theft. He thought I was my brother, Kyle, because of my colored lenses—they were his eye color—before realizing I was too small to be him.”

I take a deep breath before continuing, before he can even open his mouth, because I see his entire body coiling for violence.

“A little over a month ago, I hired a hacker. He contacted me anonymously. I paid him to get information about the shipment. At first, I wanted to steal it from you just to piss you off. To get revenge for the car licking.”

I pause.

“The hacker was Renji.”

“Okay. Go on before I actually explode.” he says.

His voice is tight. He's no longer gripping his arms—instead, both hands are braced against the steel table, his knuckles white.

“But after you attacked Liam, after those two weeks, and after hearing that conversation, I needed you to help me find out what happened to my brother, because none of it adds up.”

I look at him, expecting him to flip the table, grab me by the hair, shove me—anything.

I brace myself.

“Renji,” He murmurs “That motherfucker.”

Nothing else. His eyes blaze, his grip tightens enough to snap a man's neck, yet he holds himself back.