Page 122 of Nocturne

The world isn’t fair. I know that. But every time I see its cruelty laid bare, it feels like a new wound, raw and bleeding. How many children were turned into killers, not because they wanted tobe, but because no one was there to show them another way? I may not know who Iko truly was, but from the reverence in Yuri’s voice, I respect him already. He gave those children what he could: a semblance of purpose, a means to survive. You can’t teach love and compassion if you’ve never known them yourself.

Suddenly, Zagan’s aloofness makes sense. Losing his mother, Iko, and Rosie—it’s enough to break anyone. If Zagan was already a killer before, then losing the people he loved must have shattered what was left of his humanity. He’s become something else. A lonely god, too afraid to let anyone close, lest he lose them too.

Or… maybe I’m wrong. Maybe he feels nothing at all. Perhaps he shed his humanity long ago and now exists only as an angry, unfeeling and unrelenting tyrant. But I don’t think so. From what I’ve heard, he deserves the benefit of the doubt. He deserves… a chance—a chance at something normal.

And I hate how much I want to be the one to give that to him.

No. No. NO. My mind revolts, even as my heart betrays me. This path only leads to pain—soul-crushing, devastating pain. I can’t let myself fall for a man like him. I can’t.

But before I can dwell on it further, a figure up ahead pulls me from my spiralling thoughts. My lips curve into an involuntary smile.

“Fancy seeing you here, Har,” I call out, my voice steadier than I feel.

Harley pauses mid-step, turning from where she is about to disappear into a narrow street. Her eyes widen briefly in surprise before a warm smile spreads across her face.

“Ara!”

I smile back, though the heaviness in my chest remains. We’d taken the long route home—partly to let me compose myself before facing Cas, and partly to wrestle my thoughts into something manageable. Harley’s presence here is unexpected; she lives on the other side of the city. Her gaze flicks briefly to the man beside me, and Yuri, for reasons I can’t fathom, steps in front of me as though shielding me from her. Myfriend.

“Seriously?” I mutter, pushing him aside with a sharp look. “She’s my friend.”

Yuri doesn’t reply, but the tension in his stance is palpable, his eyes narrowing on Harley with unrelenting caution. To my dismay, she seems to mirror his unease, her shoulders stiffening under his scrutiny.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, breaking the awkward silence.

Harley’s gaze shifts from Yuri back to me, though her posture doesn’t relax. “I’m here to see a doctor,” she says, her tone clipped.

I nod, unwilling to probe further in Yuri’s presence. Harley’s eyes flick back to him, her brow lifting slightly as though questioning his presence.

“Asking for help comes with terms and conditions,” I say, glancing pointedly at Yuri. “This is one of them.”

Harley chuckles, but it’s strained, the sound thin and brittle. Her gaze keeps darting to Yuri, and for the first time since knowing her, I catch a flicker of something I can’t quite place. Anger? Suspicion? I shake the thought off—Harley, angry? That’s not the woman I’ve come to know.

“I’ll see you on Saturday?” she asks, her voice softening.

“Sure,” I reply with a smile.

She returns the smile briefly before stepping into the street. My eyes linger on her retreating form, the safe bustle of the neighbourhood reassuring me. People walk in and out of the same street, and yet… a shadow shifts at its mouth. I blink, but it’s gone.

I turn back toward home, only to be stopped by Yuri’s voice, low and cold.

“She isn’t your friend.”

I spin around, frowning. “Excuse me?”

“She lied to you.”

“How?”

“There are no doctors anywhere in this area. No clinics. No in-home practices.”

I open my mouth to argue, then close it. There’s no need to ask how he knows; Yuri knowseverything.

“So? Some people value their privacy, especially about personal matters,” I reply.

“Even with friends?” His brow arches, scepticism dripping from his words.

“Yes,” I snap. “And let’s be honest—no one’s going to open up about their life with an angry man glaring at them.”

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