Page 53 of King of Violence

“You don’t have to worry about them,” he added. “They’re professionals. They won’t get in your way unless there’s trouble.”

And that was that.

Now, on the nights I’m alone, I find myself glancing out the window, catching the faint glint of a watch face or the red ember of a cigarette. It’s a strange kind of comfort, knowing someone is there, that Julian made sure of it.

When he’s here, though, it’s different. My apartment feels smaller, warmer, like it’s filled with more than just books and research. He brings a kind of chaos into my orderly life,leaving his jacket draped over a chair and his boots kicked off haphazardly near the door.

I’ve tried to convince myself it doesn’t mean anything, that he’s just doing what he always does—taking control and protecting what he thinks belongs to him. But deep down, I know better.

Julian doesn’t stay just to watch over me. He stays because, somehow, I’ve become his anchor, too.

I don’t comment on the cuts or bruises anymore. I used to ask, but Julian always gave me that hard, unreadable look, and I learned quickly that some things aren’t meant for discussion. He’d say it was nothing, brush me off with a smile or a nonchalant shrug, and I’d let it go.

Instead, I just do my best to take care of him. I’ve learned how to clean a wound, how to wrap bandages without making him uncomfortable, how to patch him up without asking too many questions. The cuts aren’t something he’ll talk about, and the bruises don’t need to be acknowledged. But I can tell when he’s in pain when the exhaustion and the weight of everything he carries begin to show.

So I press a cool cloth to his forehead or bring him water when he needs it, silently tending to him. It’s the only way I can make up for the fact that I’m not part of his world, not entirely. But maybe—just maybe—he doesn’t need me to be. He just needs me to be here.

???

It’s later than usual when I finally leave the library, my bag heavy with textbooks and research. The campus is quiet, and the distant hum of late-night traffic is the only sound as I make my way to the parking lot. Julian got me a “rental” because hedoesn’t want me riding the bus late at night. But I’m pretty sure he just bought the car. I raised hell about it, but Julian wouldn’t take no for an answer.

I’m planning to call Julian when I get in the car, just to hear his voice. I haven’t seen him all day, and even though it’s becoming routine, the ache of missing him doesn’t get easier.

The lot is almost empty, except for a few scattered cars under the dim lights. I’m not paying much attention, too focused on the weight of the day—until I hear the footsteps behind me.

At first, I think it’s just someone else leaving late, but the pace quickens, too quick, too deliberate. My heart rate spikes and I spin around just in time to see the figures closing in, their shadows looming large in the soft glow of the lights.

I freeze, recognition crashing into me.

These men—they’re not just random strangers.

“Hey,” one of them calls, his voice low and dangerous. “We need to talk.”

I swallow hard, my pulse pounding in my ears. I don’t know if it’s fear or the realization of what they’re here for, but my body tenses. I take a half-step back, but there’s nowhere to go. They surround me immediately, caging me in.

“You Greco’s little pet?” another one sneers, stepping closer, his face twisted in a sick smile. “Or are you some cheap whore?”

I try to stand tall, hoping they won’t see the fear creeping up my spine. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lie, my voice shaking. “I’m just a student. I have nothing to do with him.”

The man in front of me laughs, the sound low and mocking. “You think you’re fooling anyone? People like you don’t get to come in and out of this world without consequences.”

Before I can react, one of the men shoves me hard against a parked car, the cold metal pressing into my back. I grunt in pain, my head spinning and the world tilting as they close in.

“Tell us where that Greco brat’s safe house is, or we’ll gut you.” A knife slides across my abdomen.

I try to push them off, but I’m outnumbered. My limbs are heavy, my throat tight. Fear claws at my chest, and for a moment, I wonder if this is it. Is this how it ends?

Then a roar echoes across the lot, deep and commanding. “Get the hell away from him!”

I don’t need to look up to know it’s Julian. My heart pounds even harder, but relief crashes over me in waves. The men hesitate as Julian’s footsteps thunder closer, his voice cold and lethal.

“Do you have any idea who the hell you’re messing with?” he growls. “You don’t get to touch him.”

His gun presses into the knife guy’s forehead. The other two pull guns on him, but Julian just smiles.

“You think you can kill me? Go ahead. Daddy will come beating down your door.” Julian digs the weapon into the man’s skin, forcing him to his knees. Julian clicks his tongue. “You can’t kill a king without starting a fucking war.”

He cocks the gun.

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