Run With The Devil

Distraction

Deon's pov

Sitting across from Lyra in my office, I leaned against the edge of the desk, watching her as she sat on the table, still looking slightly dazed from what just happened. I couldn't help but smirk to myself-teasing her, playing with her like that, it was getting to be a habit. One I found more and more difficult to resist.

She didn't say anything at first, just stared at me with those wide eyes of hers, like she was still trying to figure me out. I knew she wasn't used to this kind of attention. Hell, I wasn't sure if anyone had ever shown her this kind of interest before.

For someone who'd been through everything she had, Lyra had this strange way of still being so... innocent, despite everything. Not innocent in the sense of weakness-she could rip through walls if she wanted-but emotionally, she seemed untouched. Untrained in how to deal with feelings, or how to handle the subtleties of human interaction. I wasn't sure if she even knew what flirting was.

The thought made me pause. What was I even doing?

I ran a hand through my hair, glancing away for a moment to gather my thoughts. Angelo, Vincent, Marco-they had been on my case, coaching me on how to be more forward, more flirtatious. They said it would throw Lyra off, get her attention. Maybe they were right. But seeing her now, confused and vulnerable, I wasn't so sure if it was the right move.

"You good?" I asked, breaking the silence, my voice casual, but my gaze steady on hers.

She blinked, snapping out of whatever thoughts were running through her mind. "Yeah," she mumbled, her voice quiet. "Just... thinking."

I stepped closer, just a bit, testing the waters. She didn't flinch, didn't pull away, but her eyes flickered with something-something I couldn't quite read.

"You've been thinking a lot lately," I said, leaning slightly forward, my hand brushing against the edge of the table next to her. "Care to share?"

Lyra shifted, looking down at her hands before glancing back up at me. "I don't really know what to share," she admitted, her voice soft. "There's just... a lot going on in my head."

I nodded slowly. "I get it." My tone dropped, becoming a bit more serious. "But you don't have to carry everything by yourself, you know."

Her eyes widened slightly, as if the thought of someone else helping her carry her burdens was foreign. Maybe it was. The more I learned about her, the more I realized she had been on her own for a long time-longer than anyone should be.

I moved a little closer, my hand now resting on the table near her. "You're not alone, Lyra. Not anymore."

She stared at me, the confusion in her eyes deepening. For a second, I saw the walls start to crack-the tough exterior she always tried to keep up. But then, almost as quickly, she rebuilt them, blinking and looking away.

"I... I know," she whispered, though I could tell she wasn't convinced. Not yet.

I decided to back off, give her space to process. This was all new to her-hell, it was new to me too. I wasn't used to this kind of thing, not in my world. In the mafia, emotions were weaknesses, things to be buried or ignored. But with Lyra, things were different. She had been through too much to be treated like some cold, calculated game. And, to be honest, I wasn't sure if I could play it like that even if I wanted to.

Still, I couldn't help but be intrigued by her. Every day she revealed something new, some different side of herself. And every day, I found myself more drawn to her.

"Alright," I said, stepping back and straightening up. "I'll let you get back to... whatever it was you were doing before those idiots started teasing you."