Fate's Unwritten Path

Chapter Twelve

Lucas's POV:

I'd had a bad feeling all day, the kind that gnaws at the back of your mind and refuses to let go. My instincts rarely led me astray, and today was no different. Something was off. I couldn't put my finger on it, but it made me restless, like a caged animal pacing back and forth.

When I got the call from one of my men, the knot in my gut tightened. Sasha. My men had found her, not just in the wrong place at the wrong time, but in a situation that made my blood boil.

I didn't hesitate. I told them to handle it, to take care of the scum that had dared to lay a hand on her. But as I hung up the phone, something inside me snapped. I needed to see her, to know that she was okay with my own eyes. Maybe it was the guilt, or maybe it was something else, something I wasn't ready to face. Either way, I found myself at her door.

When she finally opened it, the sight of her made me freeze. She looked like hell—bloodshot eyes, a bruise forming on her cheek, and her body trembling as if she could barely hold herself up. I noticed the blood on her leg, and anger surged through me like wildfire, threatening to consume everything in its path.

"Lucas," she whispered, her voice barely audible. It was the first time I'd ever heard her sound so fragile, so broken. It cut through me like a knife.

I wanted to say something, anything, but the words caught in my throat. What the hell could I say that would make any of this better? Sorry? It felt inadequate, pointless. Instead, I just stood there, feeling the weight of my own failure pressing down on me.

She stepped back, allowing me to enter the apartment, and I followed her inside. The place was a mess—papers scattered on the floor, dishes piled up in the sink, and a sense of chaos that mirrored her state of mind. Scooby, her pitbull, was pacing nervously around the room, sensing his owner's distress.

Sasha didn't say a word as she sank onto the couch, pulling a blanket around her shoulders as if it could protect her from the world outside. Her eyes were distant and unfocused, and I knew she was struggling to keep it together. I hated seeing her like this. Hated it more than I'd ever thought possible.

"They're gone," I finally said, my voice low but firm. "They won't bother you again."

She nodded, but there was no relief in her expression. Just a hollow emptiness that made me feel like I'd been punched in the gut. I wanted to reach out, to touch her, to somehow make it all go away, but I knew better. Sasha wasn't the type to be comforted by meaningless gestures. She needed something real, something tangible.

"Sasha," I began, but she cut me off with a shake of her head.

"Don't," she whispered. "Just...don't."

I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms. This wasn't how things were supposed to go. I was supposed to protect her, to make sure she was safe, and I'd failed. The thought of her being hurt because of me—because of this life—was like a knife twisting in my chest.

But I couldn't let her see that. I had to stay strong, for her, for both of us. "I'm sorry," I finally said, the words feeling foreign on my tongue. "This should never have happened."

She looked at me then, really looked at me, and for a moment, I saw something in her eyes that I couldn't quite place. Fear? Trust? Maybe both. "Why are you here, Lucas?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Why was I here? The question hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. I didn't have a good answer, at least not one I was willing to admit to myself. But I couldn't walk away, not now, not ever. "Because you're important to me," I said, the words coming out before I could stop them.

Her eyes widened, and for a moment, I thought she might break down completely. But then she blinked, and the walls went up again, shielding her from whatever she was feeling. "I don't know what to do," she admitted, her voice trembling. "I can't keep going like this."

I moved closer, sitting beside her on the couch, careful not to touch her. "You don't have to," I said. "Take a few days off. I'll make sure everything's handled."

She shook her head, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. "And what? Sit here and let my life fall apart even more? I can't, Lucas. I can't just stop."

"Then don't," I replied, my tone firm. "But you're not alone in this. I'll be here. Whatever you need, whenever you need it."

She looked at me then, really looked at me, and I could see the conflict in her eyes. Part of her wanted to believe me, to trust that I could make everything better. But the other part, the part that had been hurt and betrayed too many times, was holding back, afraid to let anyone in.

"I don't know if I can do this," she whispered, her voice breaking.

I reached out, gently placing my hand on hers. "You can. And you will. You're stronger than you think, Sasha. But you don't have to do it alone."

For a long moment, she didn't say anything. Then, slowly, she nodded, a single tear slipping down her cheek. "Okay," she whispered, her voice so soft I almost didn't hear it.

"Okay," I echoed, squeezing her hand before letting go. I stood up, feeling the weight of everything that had happened pressing down on me. But I couldn't let it show. Not now.

"Get some rest," I said, turning to leave. "I'll check on you tomorrow."

She didn't respond, just pulled the blanket tighter around herself as I made my way to the door. I hesitated for a moment, wanting to say more, but knowing it wouldn't make a difference. So I left, closing the door quietly behind me.

As I walked away, I couldn't shake the feeling that this was just the beginning. Sasha was strong, but even the strongest people had their breaking points. And I'd be damned if I let her reach hers alone.

But for now, all I could do was wait. Wait and hope that somehow, someway, we'd find a way through this mess together. And if not...well, I'd cross that bridge when I got there.

I couldn't shake the image of her sitting there, broken and vulnerable, and it haunted me as I made my way back to my car. There was no going back now. Sasha was in this, whether she liked it or not, and I was going to make sure she came out of it in one piece.

No matter what it took.