Blood in the Quiet
The night didn't announce itself.
It slipped in softly—like a held breath.
Dominic's men moved with practiced silence, black vehicles melting into alleys, headlights dying before they arrived. Everything was precise. Controlled.
Except Liam.
"You're not coming," Dominic said for the third time, voice low and final.
Liam adjusted the jacket Dominic had given him—too expensive, too protective.
"I already am."
Dominic's jaw flexed. "This ends badly."
"So does loving you," Liam replied. "Yet here we are."
That stopped him.
Dominic stepped closer, hands bracketing Liam's waist—not ownership, not restraint. Grounding.
"If anything happens—"
"I run," Liam finished. "You taught me that."
A pause.
Dominic leaned in, pressing his forehead to Liam's. Not a kiss. Too intimate for goodbye.
"Stay where I can see you," Dominic murmured.
Liam nodded.
That was trust.
The warehouse smelled like rust and old secrets.
Dominic spotted the target immediately.
But someone else spotted Liam.
Too fast.
A hand grabbed Liam's arm, pulling him back into shadow.
Before fear could bloom—
A blade flashed.
Sebastian moved like instinct given form, pinning the man against the wall. One sharp look at Liam.
"Stay. Still."
Liam did.
Jax stood beside Sebastian, pulse racing—not from fear, but from proximity. From the way Sebastian's control radiated heat.
"You good?" Jax whispered.
Sebastian glanced at him. "You didn't run."
Jax smiled, reckless and bright. "You told me not to."
Something charged passed between them—sharp, electric.
They didn't touch.
They didn't need to.
Gunshots echoed.
Then silence.
Dominic returned with blood on his knuckles—not his.
His eyes found Liam instantly.
"You disobeyed me."
Liam stepped forward anyway. "You came back."
Dominic exhaled, relief cracking his armor.
He pulled Liam into him—hard, desperate, alive.
Liam's fingers dug into Dominic's shirt. "Don't shut me out again."
Dominic tilted Liam's chin up. His voice was rough. "I don't know how to love without fear."
Liam smiled softly. "Then we learn."
Their lips met—slow, deep, claiming without force.
Not heat.
Connection.
Across the warehouse, Marco watched Noah cling to Victor's arm, shaken but safe.
"You okay?" Marco asked softly.
Noah nodded, eyes shining. "I was scared."
Marco's thumb brushed Noah's wrist, grounding. "You're allowed to be."
No jokes.
No masks.
Just truth.
Midnight had taken something from all of them.
And given something back—dangerous, beautiful, irreversible.