Blaze "Hey, the race is tonight. Are you scared?" I ask Max, watching him tap on his motorcycle tire. The kid’s been a good boy, training like his life depends on it. If he wins this race, he’s walking away with more than just some fucking trophy—he’s getting respect, money, and his name out there. "Honestly, a little bit." He flashes that cute smile, the one that makes him look so fucking innocent, like he doesn’t belong in this mess. "But I'm beating those fucking Steel Riders for you, I promise." His voice is full of determination, and for a second, I actually believe he can do it. Felix must’ve told him about my race against those Steel Rider pricks that night. He swore he’d win me back the trophy this time. Thinking about it now, I was just fucking stupid—who the hell drinks before a race like that? "Win the race, and I'll give you an answer to your confession," I challenge him, smirking as I watch his expression shift from determined to stunned. "Really?" His eyes open wide,
BlazeThe last time I was here was three years ago.The old man had his back to me, smoking like he didn’t have a fucking care in the world. I was sent to the race that ruined my life.And now I’m back.He sits comfortably this time, cigarette in one hand, whiskey in the other, his brows drawn together as he looks at me with that intense, cold stare.And I’m kneeling in front of him.Like a fucking dog."Long time no see, my boy," he says, his voice smooth, almost fucking soft. It makes my skin crawl.I don't speak. My jaw is clenched so tight my teeth fucking hurt."You were my favorite," he continues, swirling his drink like we’re old friends catching up. "I bet the highest fucking amount on you." His voice hardens. "And you went and messed it all up."His leg, stretched lazily over the table, drops to the floor. The sound echoes in the room like a fucking gunshot."I let you go," he mutters, standing up slowly. "But now you've grown wings and you're messing with my money."The room
Carlo“I told you to only do a bit, enough to make him accept any kind of help,” I groan into the phone. That old dick. “Look how much of a fucking mess you made him. Were you daring me, old man?”I clench my jaw, staring at the lifeless body on the ground. My patience is thin, my blood boiling. I can barely contain the rage bubbling inside me.A low chuckle comes from the other end of the line, followed by a tired sigh.“Hey, you don’t talk to your grandfather in such a tone,” the old man responds coldly.I scoff, rolling my eyes.“What? No. I know my old man when I see him, and you’re nothing like that,” I shoot back, my voice firm.“Rude bastard!” he curses.I tighten my grip on the phone, my fingers twitching to throw it against the fucking wall.“I won’t let this slide,” I warn, my tone dangerously low.The old man clicks his tongue. “Hah! Those little jerks… Listen, I guess the people who were holding a grudge found a chance. He was still walking when he left my presence.”Bulls
Blaze"What the fuck?" My voice comes out hoarse as I blink against the dim light. My head is pounding like a motherfucker. My whole body feels like I got run over by a damn truck.I push myself up, wincing as a sharp sting shoots through my ribs. I look around. The room is big, expensive as hell. Leather furniture, floor-to-ceiling windows, a fucking chandelier.This ain't my place. Did someone pick up after I fainted there? I can still feel slight pain shooting through my entire system.A deep chuckle makes me snap my head to the side."You're finally awake."Carlo. Why the hell is he here?I grit my teeth. "Where the fuck am I?"Carlo leans against the wall, arms crossed, looking so fucking smug I want to punch him in the face. A hit that can wipe that damn look off his stupidly handsome face. That face is just the exact opposite of his asshole personality."My place," he says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "I saved your ass. Again. That’s three times now."I scow
CarloBlaze first bursts into laughter, but the amusement on his face quickly twists into anger. His eyes narrow dangerously as he tilts his head, voice low and sharp."You want me to lie down and spread my legs for you?" His lips curl into a mocking smile. "You must be insane, Carlo."Hmm? Did I hear him very well or am I hearing things? this was the first time I heard blaze call my name. The sound of him saying my name for the first time makes something dark and primal stir in me.I smirk, leaning against the wall with my arms folded. "At least you didn’t call me 'hey,' or 'jerk,' or 'asshole,' or 'bastard' this time," I say, watching his face twitch with irritation."Asshole," he spits, gritting his teeth. "Just 'cause you’re rich doesn’t mean you get to insult me."He gets up from the bed, his eyes flicking to the phone on the nightstand, but the slight grunt escaping his lips gives him away — he’s in pain. The bruises on his ribs, the cut above his eye, the swollen lip... He migh
Blaze“Max, what the hell are you doing here?” I stare at him, squatted in front of my door, a golden cup beside him with fucking flowers. Flowers?He looks up, wide-eyed, his trembling hands trailing along my body. “What happened to you?”I ignore him, the throbbing pain in my side making it hard to breathe, and unlock my door. “How long have you been sitting here?”“Since this morning… I was worried.” His voice is small, and for some reason, that annoys me. I don’t need anyone worrying about me.I step inside, grab a bottle of water from the fridge, down it in a single gulp, and sink into the chair like my body’s made of bricks. My ribs scream in protest.Max stands awkwardly at the door, eyes glued to me. “I… I won the race.”I glance at him, trying to ignore the way my chest tightens. “Congrats.” My voice is flat, because I know where this is going.He takes a few steps closer, like he’s afraid I might bite. “So… what about my confession?”Shit. I completely forgot. I promised him
Blaze"...or so I thought... But here I am standing by his gate like a beggar, just a few hours before my night shift."I fucking hate myself for this.The air feels thick, suffocating, and I can’t believe I’m even here. I swore I’d never crawl back to him, but reality’s a bitch, and here I am, proving I’m no better than the dog he probably thinks I am.I thought about it too much. The numbers, the deadlines, my mum’s condition… I can’t do this alone. I know damn well I’ll never make enough to repay a fucking million, let alone $10bills.And Carlo... he already saw me at my lowest. What’s one more humiliation, right? Instead of watching my mum suffer in that shithole, maybe I can just give him what he wants, and after a year or two, he’ll get bored.He changes women like he changes his fucking suits. I’d just be another toy.I’ve called him several times. No answer. Bastard probably saw the calls and ignored them, letting me stew in my own pathetic desperation.So now, I squat by the
BlazeImmediately I got into a taxi to go home, my phone rang, it was an unfamiliar number. I looked at it for a while before taking the call."Hello?" I respond as I try to catch my breath again, effects from what Carlo just displayed there still ruining my entire system."Mr Ashford?" My ear twitches, it's been a long time since someone mentioned my surname, is there a problem?"Yea... Hello," I manage to say."Meet me at the Davenport private hospital in the heart of town, your mother is currently being admitted there." He said and ended the call.Davenport? That's Carlo's family name. They have a private hospital? "Turn the car to Davenport private hospital," I tell the taxi driver.The wait throughout the journey felt like an eternity. My mind was a fucking mess, a chaotic swirl of fear and confusion, the thought of my mother lying helpless in some expensive-ass hospital owned by Carlo's family... what the fuck is going on?Soon we arrived, and I rushed in to see my mother in the
CarloAfter one month of the accident that made Blaze consider my pathetic love, if I had known that was the solution I would have bumped into a tree a long time ago… I am back to the office.“If you don’t give me that fucking hotel, I’m gonna send the second drive to dad. And this one has more than just company shit, Carlo… this one proves you’re fucking a man. The heir to Davenport, the golden boy, the one he’s been grooming since we were kids… balls deep in a fucking guy. Think about that.”That’s how William walks into my fucking office at 7AM.No fucking good morning, not like we have good relationship to say pleasantries anyway, but straight up blackmailing me is fucking insane. Just like him.I lean back slowly in my chair, trying to pretend my head isn’t already throbbing from everything else going on. My jaw clenches, and I force my voice to stay calm even though every muscle in me is screaming to fucking pounce on him.“You’re bluffing.”“Am I?” William smirks, tossing a fla
Blaze“Felix’s drunk ass is at my bar again. You might wanna come get him before he breaks something.”That’s the fucking call I get at 1:34 a.m. Just when I thought this night couldn’t get any worse. I’m lying in bed, staring at the goddamn ceiling, half replaying Carlo’s bullshit from earlier and half trying to pretend I don’t care. But then that call comes in and all my attempts at peace flush straight down the fucking toilet.I drag myself out of bed, throw on whatever hoodie I can find, and head out. It’s not even about wanting to go. It’s guilt. It’s instinct. It’s… fuck, I don’t even know anymore. All I know is, Felix is at his worst, and I’m the only person who probably still gives a damn.By the time I get to the bar, it’s exactly what I expected. Dim lights, sticky floor, music too loud for this dead hour, and Felix slumped at the edge of the counter, head half in a glass, mumbling to himself. His face is flushed, eyes glassy. It’s that mix of broken and belligerent that onl
Blaze“Dude, that bike looks like it was smashed into a rock, the fall was messy,” Alexi continues to rant as we walk to the shop together, but my feet fucking freeze the moment we get to the front.“Woah, what a fucking handsome rich dude, he looks like the wealthy God from Greek. Damn, I suddenly remember I have a working pussy,” she whispers, eyes wide and stuck to the tall figure casually smoking in front of my shop like he owns the place.“What the hell, Alexi… Thought you were the top and you’re not into ‘dicks’?” I ask, forcing a smile, but the truth is, my stomach is in knots, flipping like it’s on crack.“Yeah, but trying it once with that gorgeous figure is an achievement,” she mutters. I don’t laugh. I can’t even move a fucking muscle.Carlo. That stupidly gorgeous bastard. His shirt is slightly open, tattoos on full display, hair slicked perfectly to the side, fucking polished from head to toe like he belongs in a mafia fantasy. His head’s down, so he hasn’t seen us yet, b
Blaze“You actually suck at this. Move. Let me do it.”Alexi snatches the wrench from my hand like I just committed some kind of sacred sin, and I don’t even fight her on it. I step back, wiping sweat from my neck with the back of my hand, watching her lean over the greasy engine like she owns the damn thing.“You know I’m still recovering from rich-boy trauma, right?” I mutter, lighting a cigarette and squinting at her through the smoke. “Three weeks out and I still flinch every time I see marble floors.”She snorts. “Yeah, well, this ain’t no penthouse, sugar. This is grease, fuel, and freedom. Welcome back to the land of the living.”I smirk a little.Three months. That’s how long it’s been since I walked out of Carlo’s place and didn’t look back. Since I shoved every memory, every fucked-up emotion, and every craving for his touch into a goddamn box and tossed it somewhere far away.This new place? It’s loud, rough, smells like gasoline and old tires, and I fucking love it. I open
Carlo“Whiskey. Double shot. Don’t go light.”The bartender doesn’t ask questions. Just pours and slides it over, it’s been a long time I came here but they still treat me like a regular. The glass hits my lips, and it burns like it’s supposed to. I stare at the bar stand where Blaze used to stand, all cocky and full of heat. It’s dead now. Cold. Like someone ripped the fucking soul out of the place.I down another.The club smells different without him here. It’s got that same stale sweat and desperation vibe, but it’s missing the spice. The fire. The fucking heartbeat. And I hate that I came here thinking maybe I could feel close to him. Maybe I’d see a shadow of him in the corners. Dumb shit like that.“You look like you need more than just a drink, man.”The voice comes from behind me. Smooth. Confident. I turn my head and there’s a guy—dark hair, pierced lip, smirking like he knows exactly what he’s offering. I don’t respond right away. Just stare.He’s not Blaze. But he’s got th
CarloDays pass.Then weeks.Then fucking months.Every morning I wake up hoping he’s on the couch. Hoping I’ll smell his skin again, hear him cussing at the coffee machine. But it’s just silence. Cold, empty fucking silence that echoes louder than a scream.The bed feels too fucking big. I roll to his side every night like a goddamn addict chasing a fix that ain’t there. I breathe into his pillow even though the scent’s faded. I still look for his towel on the bathroom rack. His boots by the door. But all I see is absence.I hire a private investigator. I pay triple to get the best. They come up with nothing. No name, no face, no trace. Like he never fucking existed.I start checking the places we used to hang out—bars, the old underground garage, that beat-up taco truck near Fifth where he always asked for extra hot sauce and never finished the food. I even go back to the last racing ring we chilled at, the one where he nearly punched a mechanic for scratching someone else’s car. I
Carlo“Where the fuck is he?”That’s the first thing I mutter the moment I walk into the penthouse. I drop my bag by the door and look around like he might be hiding behind the damn curtains. But the place is too clean. Too quiet. The air smells like furniture polish and nothing else. No cologne, no cigarette smoke, no burnt toast from his lazy attempts at breakfast. It’s just empty.“Blaze!” I call out louder this time, my voice bouncing off the damn walls.Nothing.I head into the bedroom, push open the door like I expect him to be passed out on the bed or curled up under the sheets with one of my hoodies like he usually does. But it’s made. Neat. Fucking untouched.“Goddammit.”I check the bathroom. Closet. Balcony. Nothing.I pull out my phone and dial him again. It goes straight to voicemail—again. Just like it’s been all fucking week. I thought maybe his phone was acting up, or maybe he lost it. I even joked about it to myself on the plane, thinking I’d get back, find him half-n
Blaze“You still think this shit is love, Blaze?” Felix asks, his voice sharp like a damn knife to my ear. “You really gonna keep choosing Carlo over your fucking sanity?”He’s pacing the penthouse like a caged dog, arms crossed, jaw tight, eyes wild. It’s just me and him now that Carlo left for that bullshit business trip. The place feels too big. Too quiet. Too fucking cold.I don’t look at him. I just sink into the couch, legs stretched, a glass of whiskey in hand. My body aches. Or maybe it’s just my soul. I don’t fucking know anymore.I roll my eyes, dropping my phone on the armrest. “You’re still on that shit?”“I never left that shit,” he fires back. “Blaze, I’m your best fucking friend. I’ve watched you drown in this toxic-ass mess for too long. I ain’t gonna pretend like I’m cool with it just ‘cause he buys you pretty things and fucks you right.”I stare at him. That silence between us tightens.“I love him,” I say, flat. Like the words don’t even mean shit anymore.Felix sto
Carlo“You’re still here?” I mutter, walking into the living room and spotting Felix on the couch like he fucking lives here.He glances at me, smug as ever. “Good morning to you too, Carlo.”I hate his voice. Too calm. Too fucking smug. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he’s trying to get under my skin on purpose. But I do know better—he is.I walk past him without saying another word. I’m not in the mood for his bullshit, not this early. I head straight for the stairs, checking on Blaze first before I deal with anything else. He’s awake, sitting up in bed with his crutches leaning against the nightstand, flipping through some stupid magazine.His room smells faintly of antiseptic and vanilla—him. The curtains are half-drawn, sunlight slicing through the room in streaks. He looks comfortable, like he’s finally getting used to being home again. There’s something peaceful about that. The kind of peace I don’t get often.“Hey,” he says, eyes lighting up when he sees me. “Thought yo