Warscared
Well-Known Member
- Jan 26, 2021
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Sasha crossed her arms, eyes narrowing at Nami. “So… what about Dwight? You really can’t just… ignore how he feels.”
Nami shrugged, a faint blush rising. “Sasha… I never really considered Dwight for more than… occasional release. Honestly? If I had to pick… someone else.” She glanced down, almost embarrassed at how candid she was. “I mean… he’s great backstage. He wasn’t uncomfortable, unlike most guys, and that counts for something. But for the rest? Sorry, Sasha… your brother doesn’t measure up.”
The room went quiet. Even Sasha blinked, momentarily stunned at the sheer frankness. Nami, unconcerned, continued, almost casually, “I’ve… experienced enough to know what I want. Dwight’s fine for some things, but not… everything.”
Everyone stared at her, a mix of awe and shock, realizing just how much Nami had grown — how confident she had become in understanding her own desires.
Ayuah’s brow arched, a teasing glint in her eyes. “So… how much of a slut have you become, Nami?”
Nami rolled her eyes, half-defensive, half-amused. “Hey… just eight guys so far.”
Robin raised an eyebrow, her tone measured but pointed. “Eight? Nami… up until six months ago, you were still a virgin. Up until three months ago, you’d only been with one guy. And now… one for almost every day of the week? That’s… so wrong.”
Nadjia, sitting quietly, spoke up softly but firmly. “I can’t really criticize on the multiple-partner front… I’ve only ever been with one, and it took me forever to find him. I was careful. But…” She glanced at Nami, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “Maybe you should cut one guy off. Sunday’s for God, right?”
The room fell into a momentary pause, a mix of amusement, judgment, and quiet reflection. Nami just shrugged, cheeks warming, caught between embarrassment and defiance.
Nami shrugged, a mix of mischief and thoughtfulness in her eyes. “I could easily cut four… maybe even five of them. But Dwight and Ant? I’d like to keep them. I just… if it becomes a problem, what am I supposed to do?”
Sasha frowned, curious. “Why those two?”
Nami hesitated for a moment before answering. “Ant… he makes me feel safe. Unlike the rest of WS’s biker friends, he’s… different. He actually makes me feel safe. And Dwight… he helps me explore all the stuff I went through. Physically, since he can’t hurt me without the proper equipment. And… well, he also beat up my ex-boyfriend. Not that Ant wouldn’t have if I asked, but…”
Ayuah interjected, eyebrows raised. “But… Ant might have killed him, right?”
Nami’s expression turned serious. “Yes… I almost forget he’s a biker when I’m with him. But when I think about what he’s capable of, and what he must have done to earn that patch…”
Nadjia leaned forward, her voice calm but probing. “So… when you say Dwight helps you explore and revisit your time with Steven… that’s what you mean?”
Nami nodded. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I mean.”
Nadjia pressed on gently, curiosity sharpening. “And… what things, exactly?”
Nami’s lips curved faintly, almost sheepish. “Being… strangled, for instance.”
Robin’s eyes went wide, disbelief and concern flashing across her face. “Wait… what?”
Sasha’s eyes widened, a flash of worry crossing her face. “Nami… is Dwight hurting you like Steven did?”
Nami shook her head quickly, a small smile tugging at her lips. “No… only how I ask him to hurt me. And he’s always so considerate — brings lube, balm, all that stuff to make sure I feel safe. He even lights scented candles, pours a bottle of wine, sprinkles rose petals… the whole setup.”
Robin couldn’t help but laugh, shaking her head. “FFS… he has it bad for you, girl. If this was just casual, he wouldn’t bother with all that.”
Sasha exhaled sharply, running a hand over her face. “FFS… I can’t believe this shit — my brother… with the sister of the guy I’m into!” She froze, realizing what she’d just said, and her cheeks flamed red.
Nadjia smirked knowingly. She had already figured it out.
Robin, though, despite always knowing, felt like someone had just punched her in the stomach.
Then it was Nami’s turn, her voice firm and unflinching. “You can’t… WS is… not the sort of guy you go on dates with. If Angels are what they are, WS is on a level of his own.”
Immediately, Robin and Nadjia jumped in, defensive. “How can you say that about your own brother?”
Nami’s voice softened, almost a whisper. “Nobody loves WS more than me.”
Robin’s eyes flicked to Nadjia, and for a moment, the two of them exchanged a private, knowing smile. Oh no, girl… you have no idea what that blonde bombshell does to get your brother’s recognition, when you get it for free. And even Sasha? She’s probably already spent millions just to keep an eye on him… The thought remained unspoken.
Nami continued, her gaze distant. “WS… he would hurt Sasha. He doesn’t know any other way to love. And he can’t undo what he’s become… because if he did, he might…”
Her words trailed off. She pressed her lips together, thinking of everything she knew about WS—the control he had built, the persona he carried, the silent violence he could unleash if that structure crumbled. If he breaks all he built into himself… would he revert back to the screaming toddler who made my life miserable?
The room held its breath around her unspoken fears, the weight of WS’s shadow pressing in even in his absence. Nadjia and Robin shared that small, silent acknowledgment of the truth—WS was untouchable, uncontainable, and Nami loved him all the more for it.
Sasha’s voice wavered slightly. “I’m not putting that into question, but…” Her gaze fell, cheeks flushing as she remembered. She had even kissed WS. The way he unconsciously gripped the back of my head, pulling me into his lips… the strength of that hold, like I was water and he was in a desert bereft of any salvation until my kiss brought him back… The memory sent a shiver down her spine, the intensity of the moment still raw.
Meanwhile, Robin glanced at Nadjia, the connection between them unspoken but palpable. Yeah, Sasha, you’re not winning the sacrifice Olympics for who loves the blonde asshole more. She kept the thought to herself. Nadjia, however, studied both Sasha and Nami with her usual precision, and when her eyes flicked to Robin, she nearly froze.
Nadjia knew exactly what Robin was thinking—and she liked it. To have someone who understood just how much she had sacrificed, even at the cost of three weeks away from the man she could not live without, was rare. Even more, having a friend she could confide in about that burden was a blessing in itself.
The girls kept circling the subject until Nami finally snapped, hands slightly lifted in exasperation.
“Why should I date Dwight? Yeah, he likes me — so what? Plenty of guys like me. And yes, I… help him with whatever sick fantasies he has, but that’s for me, not for him. My real concern is WS. If he goes to jail over me—”
Ayuah cut in immediately.
“Then pick a guy already, Nami, before your brother wakes up and starts making examples of dudes. You know what the true cost is when men like him — or my father, God help me — think someone’s messing with their girl even if she likes it.” She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “You know how hard it was to get my father to accept Jeff? If I was out here, like you put it, pogo-sticking around? My father would’ve broken every guy I bounced on. But once you have one man, he respects it. What can he do, right?”
Robin jumped in, thoughtful but pointed.
“Okay, but if Nami can choose, why Dwight? Ant seems… decent.”
Nami let out a breath, almost embarrassed.
“Sex with Ant just doesn’t do it for me. I mean, he keeps improving, and technically he’s great, but the rough edge — the thing that makes me…”
She gestured vaguely at her own body, cheeks reddening.
“Yeah. All that? That’s only in my roleplays with Dwight. Ant seems terrified of displeasing me, like my brother would wake up and rip out his throat.”
In the corner, Nadjia’s lips curled in the smallest knowing smile.
Of course he was terrified — WS had definitely placed Ant there, as a safe outlet for Nami. A safety valve. A guard dog with benefits.
Not that WS would ever admit that.
In his mind, every woman of his blood — even his own mother — was a saint, a virgin, untouchable. Nadjia knew that better than anyone.
Robin leaned back slightly, eyes narrowing with a faint smirk.
“Great. Then you date Dwight officially. Your brother won’t dare touch a Petrov, and you can still get off on what you enjoy. I mean, you said he only measures up in the wrong hole, right? So you get part of what you need, keep a strong mask, and still piss outside the pot whenever the urge hits.”
Nami laughed, rolling her eyes.
“Actually, Dwight might be into that sharing stuff, so it’s not even necessary to piss outside the pot.”
Sasha practically jumped out of her seat.
“No! You will not turn my brother into a cuck… What, are you Bella reborn?”
Ayuah held up a hand, calm but firm.
“Hey, Bella never cheated on Vidal, and I would know if she did.”
Sasha and Robin exchanged knowing glances. Robin’s smile was amused; Sasha’s eyes flared briefly.
Ayuah continued, turning to Nami, tone sharper now.
“Look, strawberry… Dwight is tall, socially capable, and you won’t find anyone around your age as rich. Fuck, there are what… maybe six guys richer than Dwight who aren’t married yet? And you don’t want the old geezers, divorced twenty times, with kids that could be your own father. Just saying — you’ll never find better than Dwight. But if you break his heart now, he’ll never forgive you. Play smart. And if you need… fuck, I’ll gift you a dildo for Christmas if that’s the issue. I just wish someone would solve my Jeff problem.”
Nadjia’s voice cut in softly, tinged with amusement.
“Does it still bring tears to your eyes, trying to make love to your boyfriend… gigantic pogo stick?”
Ayuah groaned.
“It’s freaking hell. If I didn’t love him so much, I would’ve moved on ages ago.”
Robin laughed quietly at the exchange.
Nami muttered, slightly embarrassed.
“Dwight’s too small…”
Ayuah shot back with mock exasperation.
“And Jeff’s too big.
robin remarked
Perhaps you should swap?”
Sasha’s tone snapped across the room, harsh and sharp.
“It’s not how the heart works!”
The room went silent for a beat, tension and amusement mixing in the air, each girl processing the chaotic, teasing, and very real truths they just navigated.
The room smelled faintly of coffee and rose-scented candles. Nami sat on the edge of the sofa, twisting the hem of her sleeve, trying to appear casual. Sasha crossed her arms, her sharp gaze landing on Nami.
“So… what about Dwight?” Sasha asked, voice measured but firm. “You can’t just… ignore how he feels.”
Nami’s lips twitched, a faint blush rising. “Sasha… I never really considered Dwight for more than… occasional release. Honestly? If I had to pick someone else…” Her eyes flickered down for a moment. “I mean… he’s good, he listens, he doesn’t make me uncomfortable. That counts for something. But… for the rest?” She hesitated. “He’s fine… just fine.”
Sasha’s frown deepened, the worry sharp in her expression. She wasn’t thinking about WS right now — only Dwight. “If she hurts him… can she really handle that?” she wondered. Nami was clever, capable, but… unpredictable. Sasha knew her enough to sense the danger.
Ayuah leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “Nami… if you want to stay safe, Dwight’s the practical choice. He’s tall, strong, and he’s capable of keeping you grounded. You’ve been spiraling, and if something goes wrong…” Her voice softened. “You know I only want you safe.”
“And…” Ayuah’s lips curved slightly, mischievously, “for the things Dwight can’t manage… toys exist. You don’t have to suffer in silence. Be smart.” She met Nami’s eyes. “You’re clever. You’ll know how to handle it without anyone else knowing.”
Robin sat back, silent on the surface, but her mind was working. If she chooses Dwight, it changes everything. Family dynamics, future options, the whole trajectory of her own life — Robin couldn’t ignore that. If Dwight is taken care of… maybe WS isn’t an option for me, but a new window opens for the future. Nami needs to pick wisely, and I need to pay attention.
Nadjia’s fingers tapped lightly on her knee. She didn’t say a word aloud, but internally she calculated the stakes. WS will protect her, no matter what. No matter how reckless, how guilty, or how broken she feels… he’ll stick by her. Nadjia’s eyes flicked toward Nami. I just hope WS doesn’t ask… because I couldn’t lie to him if he did.
Nami’s own thoughts churned. Dwight was already fulfilling most of her needs — rough enough, attentive, and careful. He was capable, tall, rich, and he wouldn’t lose control. But could he cover everything she might want? Probably not. Still… he was the safest choice if she wanted to avoid unleashing WS.
Nami’s chest tightened. She couldn’t let herself slip—not entirely. She’d seen him before, eyes wild, hands ready to kill, two Yakuzas frozen before him, and she alone had gotten between them. Nojiko had called him Eyckardt, and the world had tilted back into safety. But she knew the truth: without that name, without that moment, they would have been dead. The memory burned itself into her chest. WS wasn’t just dangerous—he was a monster. And yet, he loved her. That love didn’t make him less lethal, just selective. Choosing Dwight didn’t feel like betrayal; it felt like survival. Keeping Ant safe. Keeping herself alive. Even if it meant tempering what she wanted most.
“I… I think I can do it,” Nami said softly. Her words were firm, but her mind raced. If Dwight can’t handle it all… I’ll manage. Quietly. He keeps me safe, and that’s what matters right now.
Sasha exhaled, leaning back with a hand over her mouth. Relief mingled with lingering anxiety. Nami’s choice might hurt Dwight emotionally if she slipped, but for now… he was alive, stable, and unlikely to be broken.
Ayuah smiled, almost imperceptibly, knowing she had steered Nami toward a pragmatic path. Robin’s lips twitched in a quiet acknowledgment of the new dynamic forming. Nadjia’s eyes stayed thoughtful, knowing WS’s silent protection covered everything, unseen and uncompromising.
And Nami? She let herself breathe for the first time in weeks. Dwight would do for now. If she needed more… she could handle that part herself, unseen.
Nami leaned back against the sofa, phone in hand, and looked around at her friends.
“Girls,” she said, a sly grin forming, “time to be honest with a few people.”
One by one, she started calling the guys.
“Hey… so, about… us?” Her voice was casual, almost teasing. “You didn’t make the cut. I’m officially seeing Dwight now.” She let a beat pass, watching their reactions, even if only through the phone. “But seriously… I really enjoyed our time together. Don’t take it too hard.”
Some were quiet, unsure what to say. Others shrugged it off. A few even got sentimental.
“I will forever remember your sweet lips…” one said, voice thick with mock poetry. “…and every broken heart, every closed road, every path not taken.”
Nami rolled her eyes, hiding a laugh, and ended the call. “Wow… melodramatic much?”
The girls erupted in laughter around her. Sasha groaned, half exasperated, half amused. “Oh my god… your life is chaos, Nami.”
Ayuah shook her head, smirking. “I’d pay to see Dwight’s face when he realizes how many guys you had to let go, just to make this work.”
Robin raised an eyebrow, thoughtful. “Bold move. But… I get why. And if you’re careful, no one needs to know the whole story.”
Nadjia chuckled softly. “She’s smart, I’ll give her that. Not reckless — just… decisive. And she knows her limits.”
Nami tossed the phone onto the couch, grinning. “Exactly. Sometimes honesty is the boldest move of all.”
Ayuah raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Wait… who was the romantic one with the ‘I will forever remember your sweet lips’ line?”
Nami rolled her eyes, leaning back. “Oh… him? Just some dude I met at the races. Said he and Bella used to hook up during the events, so… I figured, why not give it a try. And he told me I was better than Bella.”
Ayuah burst out laughing, nearly tipping her drink over. “That’s such bullshit! He’s not even a racer, Nami. Just some dude who hangs around the tracks trying to get into Bella’s panties. And you… seriously kept him around?”
Nami shrugged, a small, unapologetic smile on her lips. “Yeah… I wanted to compare. And since he told me I was better than Bella… well… validation’s nice, you know?”
Robin shook her head, smirking. “Guess you got played by a low-rank player.”
“Whatever,” Nami replied, grinning. “Felt good hearing someone praise me.”
The girls laughed, the room buzzing with teasing, camaraderie, and just a hint of disbelief at how Nami managed to navigate her… unique romantic exploits.
Sasha walks over to the stereo and presses play. The opening chords of Citizen Soldier – Worth It All fill the room, soft but insistent. She glances at Nami with a small, pointed smirk.
Sasha:
“This… this is you, Nami. Worth it all. Don’t forget that.”
Nami looks up, a mix of embarrassment and gratitude, catching Sasha’s intent — the music is meant to remind her she matters, to strengthen her for what comes next with Dwight.
Ayuah is still chuckling about the pathetic “I’ll forever remember your sweet lips” guy when the mood shifts. She stretches her neck left and right, rolls her shoulders, and says with absolute casual menace:
Ayuah:
“Yeah… I’m gonna track down that dude from the tracks.
The one who lied about Bella.
I’ll scare him straight.”
The girls go silent for half a second.
Because everyone knows:
They don’t call her the Fight Princess for nothing.
Nadjia smirks and leans forward.
Nadjia:
“Only Ayuah seems to enjoy her nickname…
Unlike Miss Smoke‑and‑Mirrors over here.”
— she points at Robin —
“Or Mrs. Block of Ice.”
— she tilts her head toward Sasha.
Nami bursts into laughter so hard she nearly drops her phone.
Ayuah snorts and joins her, proud of her own title.
Sasha just… smirks. Cold. Refined. A little dangerous. Exactly the Ice Queen she’s rumored to be. And beneath that, the faintest trace of concern — she wants Nami to succeed without screwing things up.
Robin, meanwhile, gives Nadjia a long, slow side‑eye. Measuring. Testing.
When the laughter dies down, Robin leans in close enough that only Nadjia hears her whispered correction:
Robin (whispering):
“It’s Miss Shadow Princess, actually…
And you should know that, human lie detector.
You’re my favorite tool.”
A small pause, then a razor-soft jab:
“And I know how much of a tool you enjoy being.”
Nadjia’s smirk deepens — a private expression the rest of the girls miss.
She takes the jab, owns it, likes it.
But she also catches the message under the message:
Robin is flexing.
Robin is reminding her not to push.
Across from them, Ayuah, Nami, and Sasha look confused.
They heard none of it.
They only see Nadjia leaning back with a calm, pleased smile…
…and Robin looking satisfied enough that nobody dares ask what just happened.
The chorus swells. “Worth it all… worth it all…”
Nami feels it, the rhythm syncing with her heartbeat. She glances at Sasha.
The message is clear: she’s valued, she’s strong, and Sasha’s watching — subtly, silently, a safety net of confidence.
It’s a reminder that her choices matter, that Dwight is worth protecting, and that she needs to play it smart.
Robin excuses herself, muttering something about the bathroom, and Nadjia rises immediately.
Nadjia:
“I’ll escort you. Don’t get lost.”
Robin smirks, and they exit, leaving Nami, Sasha, and Ayuah alone.
Sasha glances at Nami, tilting her head with a mix of curiosity and subtle concern.
Sasha:
“So… when are you telling Dwight that you two should date?”
Nami hesitates, biting her lip. Her fingers fidget with her phone.
Nami:
“It’s not like I can tell him I just blew off every other guy…”
Ayuah bursts out laughing, leaning back.
Ayuah:
“Better he doesn’t know! Imagine — all those guys gone and your secret, and Sasha here trembling about her own brother and Nami…”
Sasha shifts slightly, a mix of pride and worry crossing her face.
If she truly knew Nami like she did now, she would have opposed this. But Nami wasn’t just any girl; she was one of her best friends. And Dwight… if he really cared for her, behaved responsibly, and Nami kept him happy as she clearly had, this could work.
Sasha’s mind drifts. She’d prefer not to know the kinky things they’d done, but… that ship had clearly sailed. The way Dwight was entranced by Nami left no room for regret.
The strange part? Robin had supported it. Always knowing the Revera-Petrov plan: to eventually get Robin and Dwight together. Sasha mused over that — Robin never had better options. Not with family influence, not with money. Even if Dwight’s inheritance changed, he had billions just for being a Petrov. The legacy rules were brutal; one cousin who took the Petersen name lost 90% of inheritance. The Petrov name mattered.
Nami, reading Sasha’s silence, spoke softly.
Nami:
“I already told Dwight what we were doing was… for fun. If I change my tune now and demand a relationship… he’ll feel trapped, won’t he? He seems to enjoy this secret cover thing.”
Ayuah smirks knowingly.
Ayuah:
“Don’t be direct. Just hint. He’ll get it eventually. He’s not stupid — just slow. And don’t worry… he’s already blown off all his side girls. He’s found what keeps him happy.”
Sasha laughs, a sharp, bright sound.
Sasha:
“Even the brightest boy in the world can’t understand the simplest hint, Ayuah. They’re all simpletons… until we train them properly!”
The three of them laugh, but in the back of Sasha’s mind, a quiet thought lingers — Nami was precious, Dwight had to be handled carefully, and somehow, somehow, this delicate balance of friendship, loyalty, and desire had to hold without shattering anyone’s life.
Robin steps out of the room, ostensibly “heading to the bathroom,” but instead she pulls out her phone and dials her uncle Ray.
Robin (whispering, urgent):
“Yeah… Uncle Ray, Nami is calling all her boyfriends and breaking up with them. Your boy Ant… yeah, he’s on the list. If WS is around, get him out of there—if Nami hears his voice, she’ll know he’s awake.”
Ray (chuckling, relaxed):
“Are you at a party?”
Robin:
“Yeah… kind of.”
Ray:
“Ah… that kid is nuts. Bought the whole warehouse instead of renting. Spending dividends from the past three months on a massive party—thirty boys, the Mother Chapter… you know him. Crazy, but can throw a party like no one else.”
Robin nods, smirking despite herself.
Ray (continuing, more seriously):
“Oh, and Ant? Not technically mine. He’s Midwest—probably a gravekeeper. But as long as he’s here, he’s one of WS’s boys. I only rule the ring. Anyone outside it can tell me to fuck off. And you know that sweet niece of mine—she’s sharp. She’ll notice if anything’s off.”
Robin exhales, a little tense. “Yeah… I know.”
The line clicks softly, leaving Robin staring at the phone for a moment, realizing just how dangerous, chaotic, and yet perfectly controlled the whole WS world really is—even when it looks like chaos.
Robin turns to Nadjia, a sly smirk on her face.
Robin:
“Guess your bike boy won’t need your ass tonight.”
Nadjia blinks, a little caught off guard, and mutters, half to herself:
“Fuck… I even lubed up prior, but this shit is taking so long… I guess it saves me a trip.”
Robin reaches over and casually rubs her shoulder.
“Yeah… a trip you really wanted to take. I can see the disappointment in your face. I don’t understand it, but hey… whatever works for you, right?”
Nadjia (shrugging, a little embarrassed):
“Yeah…”
Her phone buzzes. Nadjia glances down and sees the message from WS:
Nadjia (muttering, grim):
“Sadly… I don’t know the full details.”
Robin, leaning over her shoulder, interrupts quietly but firmly:
“Hey… I was there when Nami explained what happened to Nojiko between her and Steven.”
Nadjia freezes for a second, caught between the temptation to protect Nami’s privacy and the weight of WS’s demand for clarity.
Nadjia leans back, phone in hand, looking at Robin.
Nadjia:
“Come on, tell me. What happened with Nami and Nojiko?”
Robin freezes, incredulous.
Robin:
“No. WTF… you’re just gonna run to him and tell him immediately? Do you have no loyalty?”
Nadjia shrugs, smirking.
Nadjia:
“Of course I do. But… it’d be nice to know.”
Robin glares, caught between moral outrage and curiosity. With a resigned sigh, she begins to retell the story, recounting Nami’s conversation with Nojiko, the subtle cues, the Japanese words, the ebuki cake, and the mizugi silence.
As soon as Robin finishes, Nadjia doesn’t hesitate. She taps the phone and calls WS.
Robin’s face drops.
Robin:
“…Wait… you just—he holds his strings over you… you’re just his puppet?”
Nadjia leans back, unbothered.
Nadjia:
“Puppet? Please. He’s not much into shibari anyway… trying to ease him into tying me up tough. Not like it matters; I do most of the work myself.”
Robin blinks, stunned, processing the audacity. Her mind races: Is there anything she won’t do for her biker dick?
Across the line, WS picks up immediately.
WS:
“What did Nami and Nojiko talk about?”
Nadjia begins recounting, careful but factual, noting the Japanese words Nami used, the ebuki, the mizugi, the subtle implications. As she speaks, WS starts picking up on the Japanese — mispronounced, regional, but unmistakable. Slowly, his eyes narrow as he pieces together the real context, the cultural nuances, the legal implications… until he finally understands.
WS’s thumb hovered over the phone. Nadjia’s voice came through, calm but a little cautious.
Nadjia:
“Okay… so Robin told me exactly what Nami said to Nojiko. The words, I mean.”
WS:
“Go. Say it exactly as Robin told you.”
Nadjia:
“Um… she said… ‘ai’?”
WS froze.
WS:
“…Hai?”
Nadjia:
“Yeah… that.”
WS exhaled sharply, his mind flipping through the memory of Japanese lessons and Nojiko’s whispers from long ago. Hai… yes… she gave it. The ebuki cake. She had chosen him. Not as a free pass, just… she had given the cake.
WS:
“And the mizugi?”
Nadjia holds her phone a little tighter, trying to piece together what Robin told her.
Nadjia:
“Uh… Robin said she… didn’t really say anything. She just… said something like… ‘kata-matta…’ or maybe… ‘katamatta-peh’?”
WS’s jaw tightens. His eyes narrow. He exhales slowly through his nose.
WS:
“No. The word is… katamatta.”
There’s a pause. Nadjia looks confused, unsure if she heard him right. Behind her, Robin leans closer, whispering so Nadjia can hear.
Robin (whispering):
“Yeah… that’s it. Katamatta. That’s exactly the word she used.”
WS’s expression softens slightly, though tension still lingers. His mind runs through the implications: Nami didn’t say no—she froze. She didn’t have the tools to assert herself. The responsibility, the context, the misunderstanding with Steven—it all becomes painfully clear.
WS (quietly, to himself):
“Katamatta… she froze.”
WS sits back in his chair, the phone now quiet. Nadjia has confirmed the word. Robin’s whispered validation still echoes faintly in his mind. He stares down at the table, gin in hand, swirling it as if it could stir clarity from the haze.
His thoughts run in circles. Ebuki… katamatta…
He runs through every possible legal scenario, every potential outcome if this had gone to a U.S. court.
She had given the cake… that’s choice. That’s consent—first-time consent, symbolic, yes, but still hers.
But the mizugi… she froze. She didn’t say yes. Didn’t say no. Didn’t resist, didn’t assert herself. She didn’t have the tools, the confidence, or perhaps the knowledge to handle it. And Steven… he assumed the cake was carte blanche. But legally, in the States, without withdrawal of consent, the case would be… tenuous, at best. And morally…
He swallows hard, a massive gulp of gin that burns down his throat. Ray, sitting next to him, rests a heavy, steady hand on his shoulder, grounding him.
And she didn’t pursue it… WS thinks, the weight of the realization hitting him. Nami had understood immediately that she had no ground to stand on. She had chosen silence, not shame, not fear of the law, not even fear of him—just the cold, hard logic that she couldn’t win.
He lets the gin settle in his stomach, bitter and honest. He exhales slowly.
Ray pats his back again, silent but steady. The world outside doesn’t know, and WS now realizes that for all the anger he might have felt, the danger, the risk—Nami had been navigating a minefield of her own making, as best she could, and survived it without telling anyone.
A new layer of responsibility, of relief, and of quiet anger settles over him. She’s safe. She’s smart. She’s alive. And now… he just needs to make sure nothing, no one, no circumstance, ever risks that again.
Robin and Nadjia returned to the living room where Sasha, Ayuah, and Nami were gathered. Nami, lingering near the edge of the sofa, looked up with a faint blush, caught mid-thought as if someone had discovered her with her hand in the cookie jar.
“Well… Nami,” Nadjia said, a teasing glint in her eyes, “the last one missing?”
Nami frowned, confused. “What do you mean?”
A small smile tugged at Nadjia’s lips. “A certain Midwestern gentleman… Anthony? You call him Ant, right?”
Nami’s face tightened imperceptibly, relief barely concealed. Sasha didn’t notice—thankfully—but Nami had been hoping to speak to Ant privately, away from everyone’s eyes.
She had called the others already, each call ending in laughter or gentle teasing from the girls, turning what could have been tense moments into a shared joke. Ant, however… he was different. One of WS’s men, close to him, dangerous in his own right. If WS learned of any slip-up, Ant would be the first to suffer.
Nami swallowed. The call to Ant was the hardest yet, and always had been. In her heart, it had been between him and Dwight. She liked them both, but Dwight was the safe choice—the practical, controlled one. Ant… she would handle with respect, carefully, making sure no one got hurt, not even herself.
Before she could make the call, she turned to Ayuah.
“I… I have something to tell you,” she said softly.
Ayuah tilted her head, curious.
“When I was seventeen, I had an interview with your father, about the Zane scholarship for ZPR,” Nami began, her voice tight. “He… made me feel sleazy, unsafe. Like he might… pounce on me. I felt Willian Zane was about to take advantage of me.”
Robin gave a quiet, knowing nod. “Yeah… hardly the first woman to say that. But I’ve never actually heard of it happening.”
“Yes,” Nami continued, leaning slightly forward. “But when I told WS about it… he told me that if anyone ever touched me against my will, he would kill them. That’s why I’m scared right now. I know he means well, but… he’s dangerous. I think your father attacked him over that story.”
Ayuah frowned. “Not likely. He’s not saying why he attacked WS, but it had to be something dark. I’ve never witnessed it myself, but according to Aunt Kathy… he did something similar once, when Kathy almost got assaulted, and a few times when he was too blind to realize Aunt Leia was using him for her own gains.”
Nami’s chest tightened further, the weight of memory pressing down. She had made these calls not to impress Sasha, not for fun, and certainly not for the wealthy, capable, twenty-two-year-old Petrov brother. This was about survival, about closing loose ends safely, and about keeping everyone—herself, Dwight, Ant—out of harm’s way.
Taking a slow breath, she faced the phone. Ant’s name lingered on her lips, the final call, the one that would be hardest. She glanced at Ayuah, steeling herself. The teasing from earlier had been harmless, but this moment demanded focus.
“Alright,” Nami said softly, almost to herself. “Time to do this right.”
The warehouse was loud, packed, chaos everywhere. Around 45 bikers and friends had started the party; more than 70 unexpected arrivals crashed in, pushing the numbers higher. Music thumped, drugs and booze were scattered across tables, women moved among them.
WS sat in the office, downing his second bottle of gin. Ant was there too, brought in safely beforehand. Ray stood nearby, ready.
WS set the bottle down. “Look, Ant, I set you up with my sister… I am sorry, ok? If you are happy with her and she is with you? Go for it. I don’t give a shit as long as she’s happy and you keep her safe.”
Ant froze for a moment. Then the grin spread, wide and stupid. Finally, he could do what Nami had asked him, what he had held back out of respect for WS. Ecstasy coursed through him.
The phone rang. Caller ID: Sexy Strawberry. Ant tensed, eyes wide.
As the call connected, Jeremiah and Obadiah moved in, restraining WS and covering his mouth. Malachi and Ray stayed with Ant, keeping things steady. WS struggled, confused by the sudden hold of his closest friends.
Malachi quipped, “Should have gotten some lube for this kid.”
The bikers laughed. Ray’s face tightened, serious again.
Ant remained frozen, ecstatic, holding onto the moment—WS’s blessing had cleared the way.
“Ant… we need to talk.”
Ant doesn’t even hear the warning in her tone — he’s too happy, too high from WS’s blessing.
“Babe, I got great news—” He stops himself instantly.
His face freezes.
He can’t say it. He can’t reveal WS is fine. He can’t snitch.
The bikers holding WS down tighten their grip.
Nami says softly, “Ant… please. Listen.”
And that’s when Ant hears it.
Not the words.
The vibration.
The crack.
The regret.
He’s heard that exact tremble once before — the night she almost cried asking why he didn’t love her enough to do the things she wanted. He remembered holding her then, calming her, telling her she was beautiful and not “that kind of girl” to him.
But now he isn’t there to hold her.
He tries to stand — Ray and Malachi shove him back into the couch with effortless pressure.
Ant looks at WS.
WS fights the hands over his mouth, confused, furious, desperate.
Ant finally understands — the bikers are restraining WS.
He looks lost, panicked, not knowing what is happening but knowing something is wrong.
Ant’s voice shakes:
“Nami… are you—”
He swallows hard.
“Are you okay… my love?”
That word detonates in her chest.
Love?
No… not love.
His love.
He called her his love.
The world tilts.
Ayuah’s father’s shadow flashes in her mind — that helpless moment, that glimpse of what WS could do to another man. The thing she tried to prevent tonight. The thing she thought she could outsmart.
Nami looks up.
Sasha’s eyes — cold, cutting, seeing too much.
Ayuah’s face — worried, gentle, steady.
Robin — connecting instantly, as if Nami’s emotions are echoing through her own ribcage; Robin feels the shape of Nami’s heartbreak before Nami even admits it to herself.
Nami’s breath stutters.
He must know already…
He must…
But if he knows, why can’t she speak? Why does the sentence stick in her throat like a shard?
Her vision blurs as tears pool.
Ant’s pleading voice breaks again, softer, more frightened:
“Nami… please… what’s wrong?”
His voice pulls at her heartbeat like a hook.
She can’t inhale.
She can’t exhale.
Her chest tightens until it hurts.
She can’t breathe — not because of guilt,
not because of fear,
but because the one thing she thought she could control — who she protected — is suddenly protecting her back.
And she can’t bring herself to break him.
Nami’s voice trembled, barely audible over the warehouse music.
“Ant… I… I am so sorry.”
Every word was heavy, weighted with the truth she had carried alone.
“It breaks my heart… but for you, and not just for me. I’m making the hardest choice I’ve ever made. I’m choosing one lover over another… and whoever I choose, it would always break my heart. But this… this is the right decision.”
Her chest tightened as she remembered all the moments with Ant—the gentle care, the boundaries he had set, the things he had refused to do out of respect for himself, for her, for their connection. That restraint, that consideration, had sunk into her heart, and she realized how much she had already given him without truly understanding it—until now.
“We are… no more,” she whispered. “I’m so, so sorry, Ant. I… I was seeing two guys. I developed feelings for both, and the other guy… he won. Please… please don’t look for me. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”
The music drowned out all else. No answer. No sobs, no protests—just the pulse of the party outside. But she knew. She knew he had heard.
A shiver ran through her chest as she imagined the instant he understood. Her words had reached him, and a piece of her heart broke at the thought of how much she had just asked him to bear.
Nami wiped at her tears, trying to steady her shaking hands. Sasha’s eyes were wide, Ayuah’s concerned, Robin’s sharp and attentive—each of them waiting for her to explain.
“I… I know it might look strange,” Nami began, voice trembling but deliberate. “I care about Ant, deeply. He’s… reliable, solid, and loyal. But… it’s complicated.” She took a shaky breath. “Dwight… Dwight is the one who makes sense for me. I’ve known him for years. I know how he thinks, how he reacts, what he values. I know what he’s willing to do to protect me, and I know he’ll never cross the line into something I’m not ready for.”
Robin tilted her head, silently urging her to continue.
“I love parts of Ant, and he’s… he’s perfect in so many ways. But there are things he won’t do, limits he won’t cross. And… I need someone who can meet me fully—emotionally, physically, every side of me. Dwight… he sees all of me, every dark corner, every desire, and he doesn’t judge. He… celebrates it. He cares for me before, during, and after. He protects me, but he also lets me be myself.”
Her voice cracked, and she swallowed hard. “I’m hurting over Ant, because I care for him. But with Dwight… I can be me, fully, safely. I can love him without fear, without worrying that what I do will put him—or anyone else—at risk. That’s… why it has to be him. Not because Ant isn’t enough, but because Dwight… fits the life I want to live, the life I can survive in.”
Ayuah reached over, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. “It’s clear, Nami. You’re thinking with both your heart and your head.”
Nami nodded, trying to draw strength from their understanding. “I’m still… I’m still breaking a part of my heart for Ant. I’ll always care for him. But… I can’t let my feelings for him endanger me, or anyone else. Dwight… is the right choice.”
She looked down at her hands, trembling, the weight of her decision settling in. “It hurts like hell. But it’s the only way I can do right by everyone—by myself, by him, by Ant… and yes, even by Dwight.”
The office was quieter than the warehouse, but the music thumped through the walls, booming and alive. Shadows from the main room danced across the floor, but it all felt distant compared to the tension pressing down inside.
Ray finally released his hold on Ant, while Jeremiah let go of WS.
Ant remained frozen, chest heaving, tears running unchecked. He didn’t dare meet anyone’s eyes—not WS’s, not Malachi’s, not Ray’s. Even with the music still booming outside, it was irrelevant; Nami’s voice and heartbreak weighed far more.
WS slumped forward, barely eighteen, the youngest among them. The older men—Malachi, Obadiah, Jeremiah, Ray—had protected him, restrained him when his instincts might have gone too far. He could feel his sister’s pain vibrating in the room, a rhythm that drowned out everything else. Two men… two hearts she had held, and she had broken one. The intensity of her choice hit him like a punch to the chest.
Malachi leaned toward Ray, voice low, tinged with bitter humor. “It’s… fucking Jenny all over again.”
Ray’s expression hardened. He remembered the myth of the biker civil war’s start—a fight over a girl that left thousands dead, the world shattered in pieces. Outside, the party raged, music booming, but inside, five men and one boy felt the full weight of love, heartbreak, and history colliding.
Ant’s shoulders shook, WS wiped at his eyes, and in the midst of music, laughter, and chaos, the most dangerous thing—love—was laid bare.
The music outside thumped hard enough to rattle the office windows, but inside the air felt thick—five grown men and one eighteen‑year‑old boy drowning in the fallout of a single phone call.
WS’s hands shook as he grabbed his bottle, lifting it and downing what remained in one long pull. Gin dripped from the corner of his mouth as he set it down, empty.
Jeremiah clicked his tongue.
“Kid… that’s the second one. You might wanna ease up.”
WS ignored him. He reached for another bottle, twisted the cap off with his teeth, and drank.
“My sister is hurting,” he said, voice hoarse, “and I made a fool of myself. I can’t even go to her. I can barely walk. My legs still feel like cooked noodles, and I don’t think I’ll ever get full strength back in my left arm.”
He swallowed hard, eyes burning.
“And I just watched a man I trust and respect get obliterated by my sister’s reckless behavior. Two guys. Two. When I find the second one, I’m sticking my hand up his ass and tearing out his heart through it.”
Before any of the older men could open their mouths, Ant lifted his head—eyes red, cheeks wet, but his spine straightening for the first time since the call.
“No.”
The word cut the room in half.
Ant stepped toward WS, not as a soldier to a superior, not as a younger to an elder—as an equal.
“It’s her choice, not yours,” Ant said, voice shaking but steady where it mattered. “I’m the one suffering here, not you. So stay out of her life until she needs you. That’s what she’d want. That’s what she deserves.”
WS blinked, stunned.
Then Ant wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and added, “Now give me one of those fancy pussy bottles. What kinda faggot drinks this gin anyway? Don’t you got any real American shit? Bourbon?”
For the first time since the call, WS barked out a laugh.
“Yeah. Bought like fifty bottles of Wild Turkey. There’s gotta be one—”
Obadiah turned toward the door, but Jeremiah caught him by the back of the kutte.
“Don’t bother.”
Jeremiah reached inside Obadiah’s jacket and pulled out a bottle of Wild Turkey like a magician revealing a rabbit.
Ant snorted through the remnants of his tears.
Obadiah threw up his hands.
“For fuck’s sake. This shit always disappears in no time. I was just safe-keeping it! It’s the kid’s weird gin bullshit nobody touches that lasts!”
Ray exhaled a slow breath. Malachi rubbed the bridge of his nose.
WS drank.
Ant drank.
And even with a party roaring just outside the door, the office felt like the eye of a storm—quiet, brutal, and painfully human.
Two hours later, WS handed another girl $200, his movements sloppy, glassy-eyed but still alert enough to watch the transactions. Walt and Dalton flanked him and Ant, making sure everything went smoothly as the girl finished her service and moved along.
Walt leaned close to Dalton, voice low but carrying over the music.
“Last clean one of the night… fuck. Half the ring chapters are here already, and more keep coming. Drugs will last, but the booze? There are guys hitting your Hendricks bottles ‘cause we ran out of the good shit.”
WS’s words came out slurred, glassy but loud enough.
“Hendricks… is the good shit.”
Dalton gave a lazy shrug.
“Sure, sure. Well, the girls will last—if you don’t mind them dirty, I mean…”
WS paused mid-drink, brow furrowed.
“Dirty… what does that mean?”
Ant froze, blinking in disbelief.
“Wait… you’ve been an Angel for years and never… got it? Never cared?”
WS shrugged, tipping another sip down his throat.
“I pay well, I get served first. Besides… I have side chicks, so why bother with skanks? Sure, I’ll pay for the boys to have a good time, but… hardly my thing.”
Ant exhaled, leaning back against the wall.
“WS… it’s not about your thing. Most guys don’t use condoms. A girl is clean… until she takes one without a condom. Or, well… until her last hole. Some don’t do anal.”
WS blinked, processing slowly, the alcohol and confusion tangled together.
“Oh… oh… right.”
He swayed slightly, looking between Ant and Dalton, finally seeming to grasp what had been happening around him, even if partially. Ant, as always, remained the steadying force, translating the unspoken rules of the world WS had long inhabited but never really questioned.
WS stared at Ant for a long, slow moment, eyelids heavy, bottle hanging loosely from his fingers.
Then, with that sudden blunt curiosity only a drunk or a wounded man could muster, he asked:
“…Ant… how good would you’ve really been to my sister?”
Ant didn’t hesitate. Didn’t blink. His voice came out raw and cracked from everything he’d held in tonight.
“I would’ve given her the world,” he said.
A beat.
“If she’d followed me back to the Midwest, of course.”
WS squinted at him, brain working through the fog.
“Oh… right. You’re one of Bern’s men. A gravekeeper, right?”
He nodded, impressed despite himself.
“Good crew…”
Ant exhaled, almost smiling through the pain.
“I was with you at the pass. When we faced those crazy Ducks.”
WS blinked. Confusion twisted across his face.
“We did?”
He shook his head slowly.
“’Cause… I don’t remember anyone standin’ by my side while I shot those bastards.”
Ant stared at him like WS had just insulted physics itself.
“WS… I almost got myself killed over you,” Ant said, voice firm but not angry—just exhausted.
“You were dancing in front of them. Like an idiot. Shooting legs and arms like it was a damn carnival game.”
Walt snorted. Dalton muttered, “That sounds about right.”
Ant kept going.
“If the guys from the East hadn’t shown up when they did, half of the Ducks would’ve been dead… and so would you.”
WS frowned, genuinely trying to remember, brows tightening in that raw, boyish way he tried to hide from the older Angels.
“I… I really don’t remember,” WS admitted, voice suddenly small.
“Thought I was alone.”
Ant shook his head.
“You weren’t.”
He tapped his own chest once, quietly.
“I was there.”
A moment passed—loud music vibrating through the walls, the muffled roar of the party outside, the stink of sweat, booze, and spilled smoke.
WS looked at Ant again, but this time not as a kid or a junior or a soldier.
For the first time, he looked at him like a man.
Walt asked, “WS, how come you always tip?”
WS shrugged, slurring slightly. “It’s just the moral shit to do.”
Dalton turned to Ant. “You gotta hear this one. Manhattan, in Nebraska—not New York—he talked a girl into going into a bathroom with him. We could all hear her screams, lungs out, and he comes out empty-balls and all, smiling. The girl followed right after him and smacked him with a dirty broom—”
Walt shook his head. “No, no, no. Dirty mop. One of those public bathroom mops, brown water, used to clean the piss in restaurants.”
Dalton laughed. “Oh right.”
WS interjected, smirking. “Pretty thing, if I recall.”
Walt continued. “When we finally calmed her down and explained it was just the tip, she retorted it wasn’t… he had gone all the way in.”
WS shrugged. “Worth it.
Nami shrugged, a faint blush rising. “Sasha… I never really considered Dwight for more than… occasional release. Honestly? If I had to pick… someone else.” She glanced down, almost embarrassed at how candid she was. “I mean… he’s great backstage. He wasn’t uncomfortable, unlike most guys, and that counts for something. But for the rest? Sorry, Sasha… your brother doesn’t measure up.”
The room went quiet. Even Sasha blinked, momentarily stunned at the sheer frankness. Nami, unconcerned, continued, almost casually, “I’ve… experienced enough to know what I want. Dwight’s fine for some things, but not… everything.”
Everyone stared at her, a mix of awe and shock, realizing just how much Nami had grown — how confident she had become in understanding her own desires.
Ayuah’s brow arched, a teasing glint in her eyes. “So… how much of a slut have you become, Nami?”
Nami rolled her eyes, half-defensive, half-amused. “Hey… just eight guys so far.”
Robin raised an eyebrow, her tone measured but pointed. “Eight? Nami… up until six months ago, you were still a virgin. Up until three months ago, you’d only been with one guy. And now… one for almost every day of the week? That’s… so wrong.”
Nadjia, sitting quietly, spoke up softly but firmly. “I can’t really criticize on the multiple-partner front… I’ve only ever been with one, and it took me forever to find him. I was careful. But…” She glanced at Nami, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “Maybe you should cut one guy off. Sunday’s for God, right?”
The room fell into a momentary pause, a mix of amusement, judgment, and quiet reflection. Nami just shrugged, cheeks warming, caught between embarrassment and defiance.
Nami shrugged, a mix of mischief and thoughtfulness in her eyes. “I could easily cut four… maybe even five of them. But Dwight and Ant? I’d like to keep them. I just… if it becomes a problem, what am I supposed to do?”
Sasha frowned, curious. “Why those two?”
Nami hesitated for a moment before answering. “Ant… he makes me feel safe. Unlike the rest of WS’s biker friends, he’s… different. He actually makes me feel safe. And Dwight… he helps me explore all the stuff I went through. Physically, since he can’t hurt me without the proper equipment. And… well, he also beat up my ex-boyfriend. Not that Ant wouldn’t have if I asked, but…”
Ayuah interjected, eyebrows raised. “But… Ant might have killed him, right?”
Nami’s expression turned serious. “Yes… I almost forget he’s a biker when I’m with him. But when I think about what he’s capable of, and what he must have done to earn that patch…”
Nadjia leaned forward, her voice calm but probing. “So… when you say Dwight helps you explore and revisit your time with Steven… that’s what you mean?”
Nami nodded. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I mean.”
Nadjia pressed on gently, curiosity sharpening. “And… what things, exactly?”
Nami’s lips curved faintly, almost sheepish. “Being… strangled, for instance.”
Robin’s eyes went wide, disbelief and concern flashing across her face. “Wait… what?”
Sasha’s eyes widened, a flash of worry crossing her face. “Nami… is Dwight hurting you like Steven did?”
Nami shook her head quickly, a small smile tugging at her lips. “No… only how I ask him to hurt me. And he’s always so considerate — brings lube, balm, all that stuff to make sure I feel safe. He even lights scented candles, pours a bottle of wine, sprinkles rose petals… the whole setup.”
Robin couldn’t help but laugh, shaking her head. “FFS… he has it bad for you, girl. If this was just casual, he wouldn’t bother with all that.”
Sasha exhaled sharply, running a hand over her face. “FFS… I can’t believe this shit — my brother… with the sister of the guy I’m into!” She froze, realizing what she’d just said, and her cheeks flamed red.
Nadjia smirked knowingly. She had already figured it out.
Robin, though, despite always knowing, felt like someone had just punched her in the stomach.
Then it was Nami’s turn, her voice firm and unflinching. “You can’t… WS is… not the sort of guy you go on dates with. If Angels are what they are, WS is on a level of his own.”
Immediately, Robin and Nadjia jumped in, defensive. “How can you say that about your own brother?”
Nami’s voice softened, almost a whisper. “Nobody loves WS more than me.”
Robin’s eyes flicked to Nadjia, and for a moment, the two of them exchanged a private, knowing smile. Oh no, girl… you have no idea what that blonde bombshell does to get your brother’s recognition, when you get it for free. And even Sasha? She’s probably already spent millions just to keep an eye on him… The thought remained unspoken.
Nami continued, her gaze distant. “WS… he would hurt Sasha. He doesn’t know any other way to love. And he can’t undo what he’s become… because if he did, he might…”
Her words trailed off. She pressed her lips together, thinking of everything she knew about WS—the control he had built, the persona he carried, the silent violence he could unleash if that structure crumbled. If he breaks all he built into himself… would he revert back to the screaming toddler who made my life miserable?
The room held its breath around her unspoken fears, the weight of WS’s shadow pressing in even in his absence. Nadjia and Robin shared that small, silent acknowledgment of the truth—WS was untouchable, uncontainable, and Nami loved him all the more for it.
Sasha’s voice wavered slightly. “I’m not putting that into question, but…” Her gaze fell, cheeks flushing as she remembered. She had even kissed WS. The way he unconsciously gripped the back of my head, pulling me into his lips… the strength of that hold, like I was water and he was in a desert bereft of any salvation until my kiss brought him back… The memory sent a shiver down her spine, the intensity of the moment still raw.
Meanwhile, Robin glanced at Nadjia, the connection between them unspoken but palpable. Yeah, Sasha, you’re not winning the sacrifice Olympics for who loves the blonde asshole more. She kept the thought to herself. Nadjia, however, studied both Sasha and Nami with her usual precision, and when her eyes flicked to Robin, she nearly froze.
Nadjia knew exactly what Robin was thinking—and she liked it. To have someone who understood just how much she had sacrificed, even at the cost of three weeks away from the man she could not live without, was rare. Even more, having a friend she could confide in about that burden was a blessing in itself.
The girls kept circling the subject until Nami finally snapped, hands slightly lifted in exasperation.
“Why should I date Dwight? Yeah, he likes me — so what? Plenty of guys like me. And yes, I… help him with whatever sick fantasies he has, but that’s for me, not for him. My real concern is WS. If he goes to jail over me—”
Ayuah cut in immediately.
“Then pick a guy already, Nami, before your brother wakes up and starts making examples of dudes. You know what the true cost is when men like him — or my father, God help me — think someone’s messing with their girl even if she likes it.” She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “You know how hard it was to get my father to accept Jeff? If I was out here, like you put it, pogo-sticking around? My father would’ve broken every guy I bounced on. But once you have one man, he respects it. What can he do, right?”
Robin jumped in, thoughtful but pointed.
“Okay, but if Nami can choose, why Dwight? Ant seems… decent.”
Nami let out a breath, almost embarrassed.
“Sex with Ant just doesn’t do it for me. I mean, he keeps improving, and technically he’s great, but the rough edge — the thing that makes me…”
She gestured vaguely at her own body, cheeks reddening.
“Yeah. All that? That’s only in my roleplays with Dwight. Ant seems terrified of displeasing me, like my brother would wake up and rip out his throat.”
In the corner, Nadjia’s lips curled in the smallest knowing smile.
Of course he was terrified — WS had definitely placed Ant there, as a safe outlet for Nami. A safety valve. A guard dog with benefits.
Not that WS would ever admit that.
In his mind, every woman of his blood — even his own mother — was a saint, a virgin, untouchable. Nadjia knew that better than anyone.
Robin leaned back slightly, eyes narrowing with a faint smirk.
“Great. Then you date Dwight officially. Your brother won’t dare touch a Petrov, and you can still get off on what you enjoy. I mean, you said he only measures up in the wrong hole, right? So you get part of what you need, keep a strong mask, and still piss outside the pot whenever the urge hits.”
Nami laughed, rolling her eyes.
“Actually, Dwight might be into that sharing stuff, so it’s not even necessary to piss outside the pot.”
Sasha practically jumped out of her seat.
“No! You will not turn my brother into a cuck… What, are you Bella reborn?”
Ayuah held up a hand, calm but firm.
“Hey, Bella never cheated on Vidal, and I would know if she did.”
Sasha and Robin exchanged knowing glances. Robin’s smile was amused; Sasha’s eyes flared briefly.
Ayuah continued, turning to Nami, tone sharper now.
“Look, strawberry… Dwight is tall, socially capable, and you won’t find anyone around your age as rich. Fuck, there are what… maybe six guys richer than Dwight who aren’t married yet? And you don’t want the old geezers, divorced twenty times, with kids that could be your own father. Just saying — you’ll never find better than Dwight. But if you break his heart now, he’ll never forgive you. Play smart. And if you need… fuck, I’ll gift you a dildo for Christmas if that’s the issue. I just wish someone would solve my Jeff problem.”
Nadjia’s voice cut in softly, tinged with amusement.
“Does it still bring tears to your eyes, trying to make love to your boyfriend… gigantic pogo stick?”
Ayuah groaned.
“It’s freaking hell. If I didn’t love him so much, I would’ve moved on ages ago.”
Robin laughed quietly at the exchange.
Nami muttered, slightly embarrassed.
“Dwight’s too small…”
Ayuah shot back with mock exasperation.
“And Jeff’s too big.
robin remarked
Perhaps you should swap?”
Sasha’s tone snapped across the room, harsh and sharp.
“It’s not how the heart works!”
The room went silent for a beat, tension and amusement mixing in the air, each girl processing the chaotic, teasing, and very real truths they just navigated.
The room smelled faintly of coffee and rose-scented candles. Nami sat on the edge of the sofa, twisting the hem of her sleeve, trying to appear casual. Sasha crossed her arms, her sharp gaze landing on Nami.
“So… what about Dwight?” Sasha asked, voice measured but firm. “You can’t just… ignore how he feels.”
Nami’s lips twitched, a faint blush rising. “Sasha… I never really considered Dwight for more than… occasional release. Honestly? If I had to pick someone else…” Her eyes flickered down for a moment. “I mean… he’s good, he listens, he doesn’t make me uncomfortable. That counts for something. But… for the rest?” She hesitated. “He’s fine… just fine.”
Sasha’s frown deepened, the worry sharp in her expression. She wasn’t thinking about WS right now — only Dwight. “If she hurts him… can she really handle that?” she wondered. Nami was clever, capable, but… unpredictable. Sasha knew her enough to sense the danger.
Ayuah leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “Nami… if you want to stay safe, Dwight’s the practical choice. He’s tall, strong, and he’s capable of keeping you grounded. You’ve been spiraling, and if something goes wrong…” Her voice softened. “You know I only want you safe.”
“And…” Ayuah’s lips curved slightly, mischievously, “for the things Dwight can’t manage… toys exist. You don’t have to suffer in silence. Be smart.” She met Nami’s eyes. “You’re clever. You’ll know how to handle it without anyone else knowing.”
Robin sat back, silent on the surface, but her mind was working. If she chooses Dwight, it changes everything. Family dynamics, future options, the whole trajectory of her own life — Robin couldn’t ignore that. If Dwight is taken care of… maybe WS isn’t an option for me, but a new window opens for the future. Nami needs to pick wisely, and I need to pay attention.
Nadjia’s fingers tapped lightly on her knee. She didn’t say a word aloud, but internally she calculated the stakes. WS will protect her, no matter what. No matter how reckless, how guilty, or how broken she feels… he’ll stick by her. Nadjia’s eyes flicked toward Nami. I just hope WS doesn’t ask… because I couldn’t lie to him if he did.
Nami’s own thoughts churned. Dwight was already fulfilling most of her needs — rough enough, attentive, and careful. He was capable, tall, rich, and he wouldn’t lose control. But could he cover everything she might want? Probably not. Still… he was the safest choice if she wanted to avoid unleashing WS.
Nami’s chest tightened. She couldn’t let herself slip—not entirely. She’d seen him before, eyes wild, hands ready to kill, two Yakuzas frozen before him, and she alone had gotten between them. Nojiko had called him Eyckardt, and the world had tilted back into safety. But she knew the truth: without that name, without that moment, they would have been dead. The memory burned itself into her chest. WS wasn’t just dangerous—he was a monster. And yet, he loved her. That love didn’t make him less lethal, just selective. Choosing Dwight didn’t feel like betrayal; it felt like survival. Keeping Ant safe. Keeping herself alive. Even if it meant tempering what she wanted most.
“I… I think I can do it,” Nami said softly. Her words were firm, but her mind raced. If Dwight can’t handle it all… I’ll manage. Quietly. He keeps me safe, and that’s what matters right now.
Sasha exhaled, leaning back with a hand over her mouth. Relief mingled with lingering anxiety. Nami’s choice might hurt Dwight emotionally if she slipped, but for now… he was alive, stable, and unlikely to be broken.
Ayuah smiled, almost imperceptibly, knowing she had steered Nami toward a pragmatic path. Robin’s lips twitched in a quiet acknowledgment of the new dynamic forming. Nadjia’s eyes stayed thoughtful, knowing WS’s silent protection covered everything, unseen and uncompromising.
And Nami? She let herself breathe for the first time in weeks. Dwight would do for now. If she needed more… she could handle that part herself, unseen.
Nami leaned back against the sofa, phone in hand, and looked around at her friends.
“Girls,” she said, a sly grin forming, “time to be honest with a few people.”
One by one, she started calling the guys.
“Hey… so, about… us?” Her voice was casual, almost teasing. “You didn’t make the cut. I’m officially seeing Dwight now.” She let a beat pass, watching their reactions, even if only through the phone. “But seriously… I really enjoyed our time together. Don’t take it too hard.”
Some were quiet, unsure what to say. Others shrugged it off. A few even got sentimental.
“I will forever remember your sweet lips…” one said, voice thick with mock poetry. “…and every broken heart, every closed road, every path not taken.”
Nami rolled her eyes, hiding a laugh, and ended the call. “Wow… melodramatic much?”
The girls erupted in laughter around her. Sasha groaned, half exasperated, half amused. “Oh my god… your life is chaos, Nami.”
Ayuah shook her head, smirking. “I’d pay to see Dwight’s face when he realizes how many guys you had to let go, just to make this work.”
Robin raised an eyebrow, thoughtful. “Bold move. But… I get why. And if you’re careful, no one needs to know the whole story.”
Nadjia chuckled softly. “She’s smart, I’ll give her that. Not reckless — just… decisive. And she knows her limits.”
Nami tossed the phone onto the couch, grinning. “Exactly. Sometimes honesty is the boldest move of all.”
Ayuah raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Wait… who was the romantic one with the ‘I will forever remember your sweet lips’ line?”
Nami rolled her eyes, leaning back. “Oh… him? Just some dude I met at the races. Said he and Bella used to hook up during the events, so… I figured, why not give it a try. And he told me I was better than Bella.”
Ayuah burst out laughing, nearly tipping her drink over. “That’s such bullshit! He’s not even a racer, Nami. Just some dude who hangs around the tracks trying to get into Bella’s panties. And you… seriously kept him around?”
Nami shrugged, a small, unapologetic smile on her lips. “Yeah… I wanted to compare. And since he told me I was better than Bella… well… validation’s nice, you know?”
Robin shook her head, smirking. “Guess you got played by a low-rank player.”
“Whatever,” Nami replied, grinning. “Felt good hearing someone praise me.”
The girls laughed, the room buzzing with teasing, camaraderie, and just a hint of disbelief at how Nami managed to navigate her… unique romantic exploits.
Sasha walks over to the stereo and presses play. The opening chords of Citizen Soldier – Worth It All fill the room, soft but insistent. She glances at Nami with a small, pointed smirk.
Sasha:
“This… this is you, Nami. Worth it all. Don’t forget that.”
Nami looks up, a mix of embarrassment and gratitude, catching Sasha’s intent — the music is meant to remind her she matters, to strengthen her for what comes next with Dwight.
Ayuah is still chuckling about the pathetic “I’ll forever remember your sweet lips” guy when the mood shifts. She stretches her neck left and right, rolls her shoulders, and says with absolute casual menace:
Ayuah:
“Yeah… I’m gonna track down that dude from the tracks.
The one who lied about Bella.
I’ll scare him straight.”
The girls go silent for half a second.
Because everyone knows:
They don’t call her the Fight Princess for nothing.
Nadjia smirks and leans forward.
Nadjia:
“Only Ayuah seems to enjoy her nickname…
Unlike Miss Smoke‑and‑Mirrors over here.”
— she points at Robin —
“Or Mrs. Block of Ice.”
— she tilts her head toward Sasha.
Nami bursts into laughter so hard she nearly drops her phone.
Ayuah snorts and joins her, proud of her own title.
Sasha just… smirks. Cold. Refined. A little dangerous. Exactly the Ice Queen she’s rumored to be. And beneath that, the faintest trace of concern — she wants Nami to succeed without screwing things up.
Robin, meanwhile, gives Nadjia a long, slow side‑eye. Measuring. Testing.
When the laughter dies down, Robin leans in close enough that only Nadjia hears her whispered correction:
Robin (whispering):
“It’s Miss Shadow Princess, actually…
And you should know that, human lie detector.
You’re my favorite tool.”
A small pause, then a razor-soft jab:
“And I know how much of a tool you enjoy being.”
Nadjia’s smirk deepens — a private expression the rest of the girls miss.
She takes the jab, owns it, likes it.
But she also catches the message under the message:
Robin is flexing.
Robin is reminding her not to push.
Across from them, Ayuah, Nami, and Sasha look confused.
They heard none of it.
They only see Nadjia leaning back with a calm, pleased smile…
…and Robin looking satisfied enough that nobody dares ask what just happened.
The chorus swells. “Worth it all… worth it all…”
Nami feels it, the rhythm syncing with her heartbeat. She glances at Sasha.
The message is clear: she’s valued, she’s strong, and Sasha’s watching — subtly, silently, a safety net of confidence.
It’s a reminder that her choices matter, that Dwight is worth protecting, and that she needs to play it smart.
Robin excuses herself, muttering something about the bathroom, and Nadjia rises immediately.
Nadjia:
“I’ll escort you. Don’t get lost.”
Robin smirks, and they exit, leaving Nami, Sasha, and Ayuah alone.
Sasha glances at Nami, tilting her head with a mix of curiosity and subtle concern.
Sasha:
“So… when are you telling Dwight that you two should date?”
Nami hesitates, biting her lip. Her fingers fidget with her phone.
Nami:
“It’s not like I can tell him I just blew off every other guy…”
Ayuah bursts out laughing, leaning back.
Ayuah:
“Better he doesn’t know! Imagine — all those guys gone and your secret, and Sasha here trembling about her own brother and Nami…”
Sasha shifts slightly, a mix of pride and worry crossing her face.
If she truly knew Nami like she did now, she would have opposed this. But Nami wasn’t just any girl; she was one of her best friends. And Dwight… if he really cared for her, behaved responsibly, and Nami kept him happy as she clearly had, this could work.
Sasha’s mind drifts. She’d prefer not to know the kinky things they’d done, but… that ship had clearly sailed. The way Dwight was entranced by Nami left no room for regret.
The strange part? Robin had supported it. Always knowing the Revera-Petrov plan: to eventually get Robin and Dwight together. Sasha mused over that — Robin never had better options. Not with family influence, not with money. Even if Dwight’s inheritance changed, he had billions just for being a Petrov. The legacy rules were brutal; one cousin who took the Petersen name lost 90% of inheritance. The Petrov name mattered.
Nami, reading Sasha’s silence, spoke softly.
Nami:
“I already told Dwight what we were doing was… for fun. If I change my tune now and demand a relationship… he’ll feel trapped, won’t he? He seems to enjoy this secret cover thing.”
Ayuah smirks knowingly.
Ayuah:
“Don’t be direct. Just hint. He’ll get it eventually. He’s not stupid — just slow. And don’t worry… he’s already blown off all his side girls. He’s found what keeps him happy.”
Sasha laughs, a sharp, bright sound.
Sasha:
“Even the brightest boy in the world can’t understand the simplest hint, Ayuah. They’re all simpletons… until we train them properly!”
The three of them laugh, but in the back of Sasha’s mind, a quiet thought lingers — Nami was precious, Dwight had to be handled carefully, and somehow, somehow, this delicate balance of friendship, loyalty, and desire had to hold without shattering anyone’s life.
Robin steps out of the room, ostensibly “heading to the bathroom,” but instead she pulls out her phone and dials her uncle Ray.
Robin (whispering, urgent):
“Yeah… Uncle Ray, Nami is calling all her boyfriends and breaking up with them. Your boy Ant… yeah, he’s on the list. If WS is around, get him out of there—if Nami hears his voice, she’ll know he’s awake.”
Ray (chuckling, relaxed):
“Are you at a party?”
Robin:
“Yeah… kind of.”
Ray:
“Ah… that kid is nuts. Bought the whole warehouse instead of renting. Spending dividends from the past three months on a massive party—thirty boys, the Mother Chapter… you know him. Crazy, but can throw a party like no one else.”
Robin nods, smirking despite herself.
Ray (continuing, more seriously):
“Oh, and Ant? Not technically mine. He’s Midwest—probably a gravekeeper. But as long as he’s here, he’s one of WS’s boys. I only rule the ring. Anyone outside it can tell me to fuck off. And you know that sweet niece of mine—she’s sharp. She’ll notice if anything’s off.”
Robin exhales, a little tense. “Yeah… I know.”
The line clicks softly, leaving Robin staring at the phone for a moment, realizing just how dangerous, chaotic, and yet perfectly controlled the whole WS world really is—even when it looks like chaos.
Robin turns to Nadjia, a sly smirk on her face.
Robin:
“Guess your bike boy won’t need your ass tonight.”
Nadjia blinks, a little caught off guard, and mutters, half to herself:
“Fuck… I even lubed up prior, but this shit is taking so long… I guess it saves me a trip.”
Robin reaches over and casually rubs her shoulder.
“Yeah… a trip you really wanted to take. I can see the disappointment in your face. I don’t understand it, but hey… whatever works for you, right?”
Nadjia (shrugging, a little embarrassed):
“Yeah…”
Her phone buzzes. Nadjia glances down and sees the message from WS:
Nadjia’s heart sinks. She types quickly, then pauses.
Nadjia (muttering, grim):
“Sadly… I don’t know the full details.”
Robin, leaning over her shoulder, interrupts quietly but firmly:
“Hey… I was there when Nami explained what happened to Nojiko between her and Steven.”
Nadjia freezes for a second, caught between the temptation to protect Nami’s privacy and the weight of WS’s demand for clarity.
Nadjia leans back, phone in hand, looking at Robin.
Nadjia:
“Come on, tell me. What happened with Nami and Nojiko?”
Robin freezes, incredulous.
Robin:
“No. WTF… you’re just gonna run to him and tell him immediately? Do you have no loyalty?”
Nadjia shrugs, smirking.
Nadjia:
“Of course I do. But… it’d be nice to know.”
Robin glares, caught between moral outrage and curiosity. With a resigned sigh, she begins to retell the story, recounting Nami’s conversation with Nojiko, the subtle cues, the Japanese words, the ebuki cake, and the mizugi silence.
As soon as Robin finishes, Nadjia doesn’t hesitate. She taps the phone and calls WS.
Robin’s face drops.
Robin:
“…Wait… you just—he holds his strings over you… you’re just his puppet?”
Nadjia leans back, unbothered.
Nadjia:
“Puppet? Please. He’s not much into shibari anyway… trying to ease him into tying me up tough. Not like it matters; I do most of the work myself.”
Robin blinks, stunned, processing the audacity. Her mind races: Is there anything she won’t do for her biker dick?
Across the line, WS picks up immediately.
WS:
“What did Nami and Nojiko talk about?”
Nadjia begins recounting, careful but factual, noting the Japanese words Nami used, the ebuki, the mizugi, the subtle implications. As she speaks, WS starts picking up on the Japanese — mispronounced, regional, but unmistakable. Slowly, his eyes narrow as he pieces together the real context, the cultural nuances, the legal implications… until he finally understands.
WS’s thumb hovered over the phone. Nadjia’s voice came through, calm but a little cautious.
Nadjia:
“Okay… so Robin told me exactly what Nami said to Nojiko. The words, I mean.”
WS:
“Go. Say it exactly as Robin told you.”
Nadjia:
“Um… she said… ‘ai’?”
WS froze.
WS:
“…Hai?”
Nadjia:
“Yeah… that.”
WS exhaled sharply, his mind flipping through the memory of Japanese lessons and Nojiko’s whispers from long ago. Hai… yes… she gave it. The ebuki cake. She had chosen him. Not as a free pass, just… she had given the cake.
WS:
“And the mizugi?”
Nadjia holds her phone a little tighter, trying to piece together what Robin told her.
Nadjia:
“Uh… Robin said she… didn’t really say anything. She just… said something like… ‘kata-matta…’ or maybe… ‘katamatta-peh’?”
WS’s jaw tightens. His eyes narrow. He exhales slowly through his nose.
WS:
“No. The word is… katamatta.”
There’s a pause. Nadjia looks confused, unsure if she heard him right. Behind her, Robin leans closer, whispering so Nadjia can hear.
Robin (whispering):
“Yeah… that’s it. Katamatta. That’s exactly the word she used.”
WS’s expression softens slightly, though tension still lingers. His mind runs through the implications: Nami didn’t say no—she froze. She didn’t have the tools to assert herself. The responsibility, the context, the misunderstanding with Steven—it all becomes painfully clear.
WS (quietly, to himself):
“Katamatta… she froze.”
WS sits back in his chair, the phone now quiet. Nadjia has confirmed the word. Robin’s whispered validation still echoes faintly in his mind. He stares down at the table, gin in hand, swirling it as if it could stir clarity from the haze.
His thoughts run in circles. Ebuki… katamatta…
He runs through every possible legal scenario, every potential outcome if this had gone to a U.S. court.
She had given the cake… that’s choice. That’s consent—first-time consent, symbolic, yes, but still hers.
But the mizugi… she froze. She didn’t say yes. Didn’t say no. Didn’t resist, didn’t assert herself. She didn’t have the tools, the confidence, or perhaps the knowledge to handle it. And Steven… he assumed the cake was carte blanche. But legally, in the States, without withdrawal of consent, the case would be… tenuous, at best. And morally…
He swallows hard, a massive gulp of gin that burns down his throat. Ray, sitting next to him, rests a heavy, steady hand on his shoulder, grounding him.
And she didn’t pursue it… WS thinks, the weight of the realization hitting him. Nami had understood immediately that she had no ground to stand on. She had chosen silence, not shame, not fear of the law, not even fear of him—just the cold, hard logic that she couldn’t win.
He lets the gin settle in his stomach, bitter and honest. He exhales slowly.
Ray pats his back again, silent but steady. The world outside doesn’t know, and WS now realizes that for all the anger he might have felt, the danger, the risk—Nami had been navigating a minefield of her own making, as best she could, and survived it without telling anyone.
A new layer of responsibility, of relief, and of quiet anger settles over him. She’s safe. She’s smart. She’s alive. And now… he just needs to make sure nothing, no one, no circumstance, ever risks that again.
Robin and Nadjia returned to the living room where Sasha, Ayuah, and Nami were gathered. Nami, lingering near the edge of the sofa, looked up with a faint blush, caught mid-thought as if someone had discovered her with her hand in the cookie jar.
“Well… Nami,” Nadjia said, a teasing glint in her eyes, “the last one missing?”
Nami frowned, confused. “What do you mean?”
A small smile tugged at Nadjia’s lips. “A certain Midwestern gentleman… Anthony? You call him Ant, right?”
Nami’s face tightened imperceptibly, relief barely concealed. Sasha didn’t notice—thankfully—but Nami had been hoping to speak to Ant privately, away from everyone’s eyes.
She had called the others already, each call ending in laughter or gentle teasing from the girls, turning what could have been tense moments into a shared joke. Ant, however… he was different. One of WS’s men, close to him, dangerous in his own right. If WS learned of any slip-up, Ant would be the first to suffer.
Nami swallowed. The call to Ant was the hardest yet, and always had been. In her heart, it had been between him and Dwight. She liked them both, but Dwight was the safe choice—the practical, controlled one. Ant… she would handle with respect, carefully, making sure no one got hurt, not even herself.
Before she could make the call, she turned to Ayuah.
“I… I have something to tell you,” she said softly.
Ayuah tilted her head, curious.
“When I was seventeen, I had an interview with your father, about the Zane scholarship for ZPR,” Nami began, her voice tight. “He… made me feel sleazy, unsafe. Like he might… pounce on me. I felt Willian Zane was about to take advantage of me.”
Robin gave a quiet, knowing nod. “Yeah… hardly the first woman to say that. But I’ve never actually heard of it happening.”
“Yes,” Nami continued, leaning slightly forward. “But when I told WS about it… he told me that if anyone ever touched me against my will, he would kill them. That’s why I’m scared right now. I know he means well, but… he’s dangerous. I think your father attacked him over that story.”
Ayuah frowned. “Not likely. He’s not saying why he attacked WS, but it had to be something dark. I’ve never witnessed it myself, but according to Aunt Kathy… he did something similar once, when Kathy almost got assaulted, and a few times when he was too blind to realize Aunt Leia was using him for her own gains.”
Nami’s chest tightened further, the weight of memory pressing down. She had made these calls not to impress Sasha, not for fun, and certainly not for the wealthy, capable, twenty-two-year-old Petrov brother. This was about survival, about closing loose ends safely, and about keeping everyone—herself, Dwight, Ant—out of harm’s way.
Taking a slow breath, she faced the phone. Ant’s name lingered on her lips, the final call, the one that would be hardest. She glanced at Ayuah, steeling herself. The teasing from earlier had been harmless, but this moment demanded focus.
“Alright,” Nami said softly, almost to herself. “Time to do this right.”
The warehouse was loud, packed, chaos everywhere. Around 45 bikers and friends had started the party; more than 70 unexpected arrivals crashed in, pushing the numbers higher. Music thumped, drugs and booze were scattered across tables, women moved among them.
WS sat in the office, downing his second bottle of gin. Ant was there too, brought in safely beforehand. Ray stood nearby, ready.
WS set the bottle down. “Look, Ant, I set you up with my sister… I am sorry, ok? If you are happy with her and she is with you? Go for it. I don’t give a shit as long as she’s happy and you keep her safe.”
Ant froze for a moment. Then the grin spread, wide and stupid. Finally, he could do what Nami had asked him, what he had held back out of respect for WS. Ecstasy coursed through him.
The phone rang. Caller ID: Sexy Strawberry. Ant tensed, eyes wide.
As the call connected, Jeremiah and Obadiah moved in, restraining WS and covering his mouth. Malachi and Ray stayed with Ant, keeping things steady. WS struggled, confused by the sudden hold of his closest friends.
Malachi quipped, “Should have gotten some lube for this kid.”
The bikers laughed. Ray’s face tightened, serious again.
Ant remained frozen, ecstatic, holding onto the moment—WS’s blessing had cleared the way.
“Ant… we need to talk.”
Ant doesn’t even hear the warning in her tone — he’s too happy, too high from WS’s blessing.
“Babe, I got great news—” He stops himself instantly.
His face freezes.
He can’t say it. He can’t reveal WS is fine. He can’t snitch.
The bikers holding WS down tighten their grip.
Nami says softly, “Ant… please. Listen.”
And that’s when Ant hears it.
Not the words.
The vibration.
The crack.
The regret.
He’s heard that exact tremble once before — the night she almost cried asking why he didn’t love her enough to do the things she wanted. He remembered holding her then, calming her, telling her she was beautiful and not “that kind of girl” to him.
But now he isn’t there to hold her.
He tries to stand — Ray and Malachi shove him back into the couch with effortless pressure.
Ant looks at WS.
WS fights the hands over his mouth, confused, furious, desperate.
Ant finally understands — the bikers are restraining WS.
He looks lost, panicked, not knowing what is happening but knowing something is wrong.
Ant’s voice shakes:
“Nami… are you—”
He swallows hard.
“Are you okay… my love?”
That word detonates in her chest.
Love?
No… not love.
His love.
He called her his love.
The world tilts.
Ayuah’s father’s shadow flashes in her mind — that helpless moment, that glimpse of what WS could do to another man. The thing she tried to prevent tonight. The thing she thought she could outsmart.
Nami looks up.
Sasha’s eyes — cold, cutting, seeing too much.
Ayuah’s face — worried, gentle, steady.
Robin — connecting instantly, as if Nami’s emotions are echoing through her own ribcage; Robin feels the shape of Nami’s heartbreak before Nami even admits it to herself.
Nami’s breath stutters.
He must know already…
He must…
But if he knows, why can’t she speak? Why does the sentence stick in her throat like a shard?
Her vision blurs as tears pool.
Ant’s pleading voice breaks again, softer, more frightened:
“Nami… please… what’s wrong?”
His voice pulls at her heartbeat like a hook.
She can’t inhale.
She can’t exhale.
Her chest tightens until it hurts.
She can’t breathe — not because of guilt,
not because of fear,
but because the one thing she thought she could control — who she protected — is suddenly protecting her back.
And she can’t bring herself to break him.
Nami’s voice trembled, barely audible over the warehouse music.
“Ant… I… I am so sorry.”
Every word was heavy, weighted with the truth she had carried alone.
“It breaks my heart… but for you, and not just for me. I’m making the hardest choice I’ve ever made. I’m choosing one lover over another… and whoever I choose, it would always break my heart. But this… this is the right decision.”
Her chest tightened as she remembered all the moments with Ant—the gentle care, the boundaries he had set, the things he had refused to do out of respect for himself, for her, for their connection. That restraint, that consideration, had sunk into her heart, and she realized how much she had already given him without truly understanding it—until now.
“We are… no more,” she whispered. “I’m so, so sorry, Ant. I… I was seeing two guys. I developed feelings for both, and the other guy… he won. Please… please don’t look for me. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”
The music drowned out all else. No answer. No sobs, no protests—just the pulse of the party outside. But she knew. She knew he had heard.
A shiver ran through her chest as she imagined the instant he understood. Her words had reached him, and a piece of her heart broke at the thought of how much she had just asked him to bear.
Nami wiped at her tears, trying to steady her shaking hands. Sasha’s eyes were wide, Ayuah’s concerned, Robin’s sharp and attentive—each of them waiting for her to explain.
“I… I know it might look strange,” Nami began, voice trembling but deliberate. “I care about Ant, deeply. He’s… reliable, solid, and loyal. But… it’s complicated.” She took a shaky breath. “Dwight… Dwight is the one who makes sense for me. I’ve known him for years. I know how he thinks, how he reacts, what he values. I know what he’s willing to do to protect me, and I know he’ll never cross the line into something I’m not ready for.”
Robin tilted her head, silently urging her to continue.
“I love parts of Ant, and he’s… he’s perfect in so many ways. But there are things he won’t do, limits he won’t cross. And… I need someone who can meet me fully—emotionally, physically, every side of me. Dwight… he sees all of me, every dark corner, every desire, and he doesn’t judge. He… celebrates it. He cares for me before, during, and after. He protects me, but he also lets me be myself.”
Her voice cracked, and she swallowed hard. “I’m hurting over Ant, because I care for him. But with Dwight… I can be me, fully, safely. I can love him without fear, without worrying that what I do will put him—or anyone else—at risk. That’s… why it has to be him. Not because Ant isn’t enough, but because Dwight… fits the life I want to live, the life I can survive in.”
Ayuah reached over, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. “It’s clear, Nami. You’re thinking with both your heart and your head.”
Nami nodded, trying to draw strength from their understanding. “I’m still… I’m still breaking a part of my heart for Ant. I’ll always care for him. But… I can’t let my feelings for him endanger me, or anyone else. Dwight… is the right choice.”
She looked down at her hands, trembling, the weight of her decision settling in. “It hurts like hell. But it’s the only way I can do right by everyone—by myself, by him, by Ant… and yes, even by Dwight.”
The office was quieter than the warehouse, but the music thumped through the walls, booming and alive. Shadows from the main room danced across the floor, but it all felt distant compared to the tension pressing down inside.
Ray finally released his hold on Ant, while Jeremiah let go of WS.
Ant remained frozen, chest heaving, tears running unchecked. He didn’t dare meet anyone’s eyes—not WS’s, not Malachi’s, not Ray’s. Even with the music still booming outside, it was irrelevant; Nami’s voice and heartbreak weighed far more.
WS slumped forward, barely eighteen, the youngest among them. The older men—Malachi, Obadiah, Jeremiah, Ray—had protected him, restrained him when his instincts might have gone too far. He could feel his sister’s pain vibrating in the room, a rhythm that drowned out everything else. Two men… two hearts she had held, and she had broken one. The intensity of her choice hit him like a punch to the chest.
Malachi leaned toward Ray, voice low, tinged with bitter humor. “It’s… fucking Jenny all over again.”
Ray’s expression hardened. He remembered the myth of the biker civil war’s start—a fight over a girl that left thousands dead, the world shattered in pieces. Outside, the party raged, music booming, but inside, five men and one boy felt the full weight of love, heartbreak, and history colliding.
Ant’s shoulders shook, WS wiped at his eyes, and in the midst of music, laughter, and chaos, the most dangerous thing—love—was laid bare.
The music outside thumped hard enough to rattle the office windows, but inside the air felt thick—five grown men and one eighteen‑year‑old boy drowning in the fallout of a single phone call.
WS’s hands shook as he grabbed his bottle, lifting it and downing what remained in one long pull. Gin dripped from the corner of his mouth as he set it down, empty.
Jeremiah clicked his tongue.
“Kid… that’s the second one. You might wanna ease up.”
WS ignored him. He reached for another bottle, twisted the cap off with his teeth, and drank.
“My sister is hurting,” he said, voice hoarse, “and I made a fool of myself. I can’t even go to her. I can barely walk. My legs still feel like cooked noodles, and I don’t think I’ll ever get full strength back in my left arm.”
He swallowed hard, eyes burning.
“And I just watched a man I trust and respect get obliterated by my sister’s reckless behavior. Two guys. Two. When I find the second one, I’m sticking my hand up his ass and tearing out his heart through it.”
Before any of the older men could open their mouths, Ant lifted his head—eyes red, cheeks wet, but his spine straightening for the first time since the call.
“No.”
The word cut the room in half.
Ant stepped toward WS, not as a soldier to a superior, not as a younger to an elder—as an equal.
“It’s her choice, not yours,” Ant said, voice shaking but steady where it mattered. “I’m the one suffering here, not you. So stay out of her life until she needs you. That’s what she’d want. That’s what she deserves.”
WS blinked, stunned.
Then Ant wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and added, “Now give me one of those fancy pussy bottles. What kinda faggot drinks this gin anyway? Don’t you got any real American shit? Bourbon?”
For the first time since the call, WS barked out a laugh.
“Yeah. Bought like fifty bottles of Wild Turkey. There’s gotta be one—”
Obadiah turned toward the door, but Jeremiah caught him by the back of the kutte.
“Don’t bother.”
Jeremiah reached inside Obadiah’s jacket and pulled out a bottle of Wild Turkey like a magician revealing a rabbit.
Ant snorted through the remnants of his tears.
Obadiah threw up his hands.
“For fuck’s sake. This shit always disappears in no time. I was just safe-keeping it! It’s the kid’s weird gin bullshit nobody touches that lasts!”
Ray exhaled a slow breath. Malachi rubbed the bridge of his nose.
WS drank.
Ant drank.
And even with a party roaring just outside the door, the office felt like the eye of a storm—quiet, brutal, and painfully human.
Two hours later, WS handed another girl $200, his movements sloppy, glassy-eyed but still alert enough to watch the transactions. Walt and Dalton flanked him and Ant, making sure everything went smoothly as the girl finished her service and moved along.
Walt leaned close to Dalton, voice low but carrying over the music.
“Last clean one of the night… fuck. Half the ring chapters are here already, and more keep coming. Drugs will last, but the booze? There are guys hitting your Hendricks bottles ‘cause we ran out of the good shit.”
WS’s words came out slurred, glassy but loud enough.
“Hendricks… is the good shit.”
Dalton gave a lazy shrug.
“Sure, sure. Well, the girls will last—if you don’t mind them dirty, I mean…”
WS paused mid-drink, brow furrowed.
“Dirty… what does that mean?”
Ant froze, blinking in disbelief.
“Wait… you’ve been an Angel for years and never… got it? Never cared?”
WS shrugged, tipping another sip down his throat.
“I pay well, I get served first. Besides… I have side chicks, so why bother with skanks? Sure, I’ll pay for the boys to have a good time, but… hardly my thing.”
Ant exhaled, leaning back against the wall.
“WS… it’s not about your thing. Most guys don’t use condoms. A girl is clean… until she takes one without a condom. Or, well… until her last hole. Some don’t do anal.”
WS blinked, processing slowly, the alcohol and confusion tangled together.
“Oh… oh… right.”
He swayed slightly, looking between Ant and Dalton, finally seeming to grasp what had been happening around him, even if partially. Ant, as always, remained the steadying force, translating the unspoken rules of the world WS had long inhabited but never really questioned.
WS stared at Ant for a long, slow moment, eyelids heavy, bottle hanging loosely from his fingers.
Then, with that sudden blunt curiosity only a drunk or a wounded man could muster, he asked:
“…Ant… how good would you’ve really been to my sister?”
Ant didn’t hesitate. Didn’t blink. His voice came out raw and cracked from everything he’d held in tonight.
“I would’ve given her the world,” he said.
A beat.
“If she’d followed me back to the Midwest, of course.”
WS squinted at him, brain working through the fog.
“Oh… right. You’re one of Bern’s men. A gravekeeper, right?”
He nodded, impressed despite himself.
“Good crew…”
Ant exhaled, almost smiling through the pain.
“I was with you at the pass. When we faced those crazy Ducks.”
WS blinked. Confusion twisted across his face.
“We did?”
He shook his head slowly.
“’Cause… I don’t remember anyone standin’ by my side while I shot those bastards.”
Ant stared at him like WS had just insulted physics itself.
“WS… I almost got myself killed over you,” Ant said, voice firm but not angry—just exhausted.
“You were dancing in front of them. Like an idiot. Shooting legs and arms like it was a damn carnival game.”
Walt snorted. Dalton muttered, “That sounds about right.”
Ant kept going.
“If the guys from the East hadn’t shown up when they did, half of the Ducks would’ve been dead… and so would you.”
WS frowned, genuinely trying to remember, brows tightening in that raw, boyish way he tried to hide from the older Angels.
“I… I really don’t remember,” WS admitted, voice suddenly small.
“Thought I was alone.”
Ant shook his head.
“You weren’t.”
He tapped his own chest once, quietly.
“I was there.”
A moment passed—loud music vibrating through the walls, the muffled roar of the party outside, the stink of sweat, booze, and spilled smoke.
WS looked at Ant again, but this time not as a kid or a junior or a soldier.
For the first time, he looked at him like a man.
Walt asked, “WS, how come you always tip?”
WS shrugged, slurring slightly. “It’s just the moral shit to do.”
Dalton turned to Ant. “You gotta hear this one. Manhattan, in Nebraska—not New York—he talked a girl into going into a bathroom with him. We could all hear her screams, lungs out, and he comes out empty-balls and all, smiling. The girl followed right after him and smacked him with a dirty broom—”
Walt shook his head. “No, no, no. Dirty mop. One of those public bathroom mops, brown water, used to clean the piss in restaurants.”
Dalton laughed. “Oh right.”
WS interjected, smirking. “Pretty thing, if I recall.”
Walt continued. “When we finally calmed her down and explained it was just the tip, she retorted it wasn’t… he had gone all the way in.”
WS shrugged. “Worth it.