The warehouse loomed out of the dusk like a rusted ribcage—long, yawning, and almost alive with the thrum of electricity. Somewhere deep inside, bass pulsed in slow, skeletal beats. Just sound checks. But it felt like the heartbeat of something bigger. Something feral.
Luna hesitated at the entrance, swallowing hard.
Luka did not.
"Well? You insisted on coming, don't flake out now" Luka snapped, making Luna jump and quickly fall into step beside Luka. He stepped forward in his boots with the wrath of a very well-dressed, very pissed-off demigod. His leather jacket snapped in the wind like a warning. "You sure this is the place?" he snapped, not looking back.
Luna nodded, voice barely a whisper. "Rachel said he's helping organize tonight's party. He's... involved."
Luka scoffed. "Of course he is. Cult leaders always are."
They passed under the half-lowered metal shutter and stepped into the cool dark of the warehouse. Inside, men in loose tank tops and combat boots hauled trusses and uncoiled massive cables. Lights flickered in test mode—sharp flashes of neon pink, ice blue, and a red so bloody it made Luna flinch.
And there he was.
Ryan stood near the half-built DJ booth, clipboard in hand, sleeves rolled up, commanding with easy, distant precision. He was bigger than Luna remembered. Broader. Taller. And somehow more untouchable with each sharp silhouette of light that swept over him.
He looked up—and saw them.
Luna's stomach twisted. Ryan's gaze landed on him first, unreadable and razor-sharp. Then it slid to Luka, who stood with arms crossed, chin up, clearly imagining all the ways one could castrate a man with a glowstick.
Ryan raised a brow.
"Well, this is unexpected."
Luka stepped forward. "Not for me, asshole."
A few heads turned, then quickly turned back. Even in a warehouse full of muscle and sound, Luka's voice had the cut-glass bite of someone used to being obeyed.
Ryan looked them both over slowly, lips twitching with something like amusement. "Let's talk. Over here."
Without waiting, he turned and walked deeper into the maze of scaffolding and crates. Luna followed automatically. Luka stormed after him like a thundercloud in designer boots.
They emerged into a quieter corner—still inside the belly of the beast, but removed from the loudest activity. A stack of equipment cases made a makeshift wall. Lights buzzed overhead.
Ryan leaned against a beam, crossing his arms. "So. What's the emergency?"
Luka stepped in close, eyes blazing. "You laid your hands on my cousin."
Ryan didn't blink. "He laid his hands on me too."
"Don't you dare get clever with me, giraffe-boy. He told me everything. The blindfold. The manipulation. You getting off on his confusion—on making him need you. Is that your thing?"
Ryan tilted his head, cool and unbothered. "My thing is loving someone who doesn't know how to be loved."
"Bullshit." Luka spat. "You played him. He's barely sleeping. Keeps checking his phone like you're some kind of—what? God? You're a fucking predator."
Ryan's eyes flicked to Luna, who flinched under the weight of it. "Is that how you feel, Luna?"
Luna opened his mouth. Nothing came out.
Luka hissed, "Don't look at him. Look at me. He came to me because you fucked with his head. That's not love."
And for the first time, Ryan's mask cracked just a little.
"You think I don't know that?" he snapped, voice low and dangerous. "You think I haven't been trying not to drown him in this shit I feel for him? I've tried, alright? Tried staying away, tried pretending. But it's too late now."
He looked back to Luna, this time not asking for permission—just seeing him.
"I love you. I would burn every gallery, every party, every fucking rave for you."
Luka rolled his eyes so hard it was audible. "That's not romantic. That's a red flag wearing cologne."
"Then call me a flag," Ryan said, eyes locked on Luna. "But I'm not letting you walk away from this without hearing the truth."
Luna stepped closer, voice shaking. "What is the truth, Ryan?"
Ryan stepped forward too, closing the space between them like a tide.
"That you're mine," he said, low and quiet, "in ways I can't undo. That every time I see you, I feel like I'm staring into something I don't deserve. But I want it anyway."
Luna's breath hitched.
Ryan's voice gentled. "You came here. You chose to hear this."
Luka scoffed. "He came here because he's trying to find closure—"
"Then let him choose, Luka," Ryan snapped, eyes flashing. "Don't speak for him."
Silence.
The hum of electricity. The distant throb of tested speakers. And Luna, caught in the eye of a storm built on obsession and fragile, dangerous love.
And still—he didn't run.
___________________________________________________
🌙✨ Step Beyond the Page ✨🌙
Some doors only open if you knock with your heart.
For $5 a month, you can wander into my world — a place where sapphic glances linger like dusk light, boy love burns slow and certain, and the pages are always warm from being read too often.
Choose your path:
🌸 Sapphic Only: For those who want soft hands, fierce hearts, and love that blooms between women.
🌊 Boy Love Only: For those who crave quiet devotion and longing threaded through every glance.
🌈 All of the Above: For the unapologetically bi, the endlessly curious, the ones who just want more.
With your support, you'll receive:
📜 Early access to stories before they touch the world
💖 Bonus tales you won't find anywhere else
Every pledge is a candle lit in my writing room, keeping these stories alive and glowing.
If you've ever wanted to live inside a love story — this is your invitation.
Join here → https://www.patreon.com/c/NightKitten