Chasing the Flame

CHAPTER ONE

ETHAN

People are afraid of themselves- of their own reality, their feelings most of all. They talk about how great love is forgetting the pain that comes with it, but how can you love if you're afraid to feel.
Love is Enigmatic, mystifying, puzzling and even makes you powerless but above all.
Love is life- It exists in everything we hold dearly.

"You need to shut up!" I shouted into the phone, my voice harsh and biting. The auditor on the other end stammered, but I cut him off before he could form a coherent response. "I want all the audits on my desk next month, or you'll lose your job!" I ended the call with a slam, my frustration boiling over.

"Calm down, man," my mind snarled at me. But I couldn't. Being fierce, being brutal, was necessary. If I wasn't, they'd take the job for granted, the company would crumble, and we'd all lose everything. Our stocks, our revenue, our futures—all of it, gone.

But then the soft hum of music drifted through my office, and I couldn't escape it. The song seeped into my head, even though I tried to block it out.

🎵 "I don't wanna go another day, so I'm telling you exactly what's on my mind..." 🎵

My teeth clenched as the lyrics hit a nerve. Love songs. They always did this to me, stirring something deep in my gut—a weird, twisted sensation like a hand squeezing around my throat.

🎵 "Seems like everybody's breaking up and throwing their love away..." 🎵

I looked out the window, seeing the city alive with movement. A festival was raging outside, music blaring, bodies dancing, women scantily dressed and laughing without a care in the world. But all I cared about was work.

This was the price I paid to build an empire at such a young age. Sacrifice. I had mastered the game—every move, every strategy that led to success.

But lately, my thoughts had been consumed by the Chinese shipyard deal. It was within my grasp, yet the board of directors wavered. And when I pitched my proposal to the Chinese executives, I saw it in their eyes—they wanted to see us stumble, see us fall to the bottom.

"Those Chinese bastards," I muttered under my breath, still staring out into the chaotic festival scene.

Success was more than a goal; it was an obsession. An addiction. I craved it like oxygen, and I wouldn't stop until I was at the pinnacle. The thought of seeing my name among the top businessmen, listed in glossy magazines, made a slow, satisfied smile creep across my lips.

But as I glanced at the business news headline on my phone—"60 billion dollars allocated to business moguls for the deal"—my smile faded. They had upped the stakes. The Chinese had raised the amount. Shit.

My education at Harvard had been grueling, but it had made me sharp, ruthless. A business degree from the most prestigious school in the world had set me up for success, and when I took over my father's company, JP International Holdings, I knew I had to be tough. The company was a multimillion-dollar beast, and the competition out there was cutthroat.

People feared me. They said I was cold, calculating, never smiled. That I tolerated no nonsense. And they were right. I had to be that way, because there were wolves waiting at every corner, ready to take us down. I wasn't going to let that happen.

The car came to a halt outside the office, and as the security guards opened the door for me, I could feel their anxiety. They greeted me with a mix of fear and respect, their faces tense. I nodded, not needing to say a word, and made my way inside.

The lobby was noisy, packed with employees rushing about, but the moment I stepped in, the atmosphere shifted. It always did. Conversations quieted, eyes lowered, and everyone straightened up, as if my presence demanded their best behavior.

"Good morning, sir."

"Morning, boss."

Their greetings came in hushed tones. I nodded at them, making my way to the private elevator that led directly to my office.

When I reached my floor, my secretary, a petite brunette with an impossibly tight skirt, was waiting for me. She smiled in that fake, saccharine way I'd grown used to, but I barely glanced at her. She was exactly the type of woman I would've enjoyed taking to bed once—but now, I barely registered her presence.

"Good morning, sir. I hope your night was good," she said, her voice dripping with too much sweetness. I waved her off, too distracted by the pile of documents waiting for me in my office. My head was already swimming with irritation.

But before I could dial my secretary, my eyes fell on something else—a portrait on my desk. Her face. Hazel eyes, filled with pain. Full lips. Almost perfect, yet deeply scarred. The image stirred something deep inside me, emotions I had long buried.

Three years ago...

"Shoot her! Shoot her!" The sound of gunshots echoed in my ears, my heart pounding as adrenaline surged through me.

"Don't let her escape!" a man bellowed from the distance.

I crouched low, my body instinctively reacting to the danger. The gunfire came again, louder, closer this time. And then I saw her—running, terrified, chased by three armed men. She was small, fragile, but there was something in her eyes, something desperate and pleading.

I knew I couldn't just stand there.

"Leave her alone!" I yelled, my voice shaking but firm.

The men turned toward me, guns raised. "Back off, this woman is dangerous," one of them snarled. But I wasn't backing down.

"Three men against one woman, I think she's the one in danger!"

One of the men cocked his gun, aiming it at my chest. I ducked, dodging the bullet just in time. In a blur, I charged forward, throwing a punch at the nearest man. He went down hard, but the others were still on their feet.

The woman signaled for me to help untie her. I moved quickly, freeing her just as one of the men came at me. But before I could react, she was on him—swift, lethal. She grabbed the gun from the ground, her movements precise and deadly.

In seconds, she had taken them all down. I watched, stunned, as she finished off the last man, her body moving like a trained assassin.

When it was over, she turned to me, her hazel eyes locking onto mine.

"Kill or be killed" She screamed taking three steps towards me. I knew because i had counted her every step.

She picked up a bag thudded on the floor which i honestly didn't know what it contained.

"Thanks for the help, stranger," she said, her voice low, a sly smile tugging at her lips- her short torso leaning against my tall frame.

Dammittt!! She was hot!!

Before I could respond, she disappeared into the night, leaving me standing there, wondering what the hell had just happened.