Chapter 37
1269 Words
✨ Calling It Ours.✨
Nasir Pov
Nasir had always known the exact weight of a room the moment he entered it.
Power hummed or it didn’t. Loyalty breathed or it suffocated. Threats announced themselves long before they spoke.
But this—this quiet apartment, Flora moving softly through it, her presence stitched into the air like something fragile and rare—this weight was unfamiliar.
And dangerous in a way bullets never were.
He stood by the window long after she went to sleep, city lights reflecting off the glass, his reflection fractured. The word home hovered uncomfortably in his chest. He’d used it earlier without thinking. Our home.
That had never happened before.
Nasir did not sleep much after she finally drifted back into rest.
He lay awake beside her long after the room had gone quiet, watching the slow rise and fall of her chest, listening to the soft, uneven breaths that told him she was still dreaming hard, still worn thin by emotions she did not yet understand how to carry.
For the first time in years, leaving a bed felt wrong.
Not because of desire.
Because of responsibility.
When morning came, he moved carefully, disentangling himself from her with a patience he had never practiced before. She murmured his name once, half-asleep, fingers curling blindly against the sheet where he had been.
The sound almost made him stay.
Instead, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to her temple.
“I’ll be back,” he whispered, though she could not hear him.
In the kitchen, he paused.
The apartment felt… altered.
Not changed in any visible way — the furniture was the same, the walls the same, the city still growled beyond the windows — but the air was different. Softer. Warmer.
Occupied.
He caught himself thinking it without meaning to.
Our home.
The thought startled him.
He had never called any place that.
Not his penthouse in the city. Not the houses his family owned. Not the safe properties scattered across territories.
This — this modest apartment with borrowed curtains and mismatched cups — felt more like home than any place he had ever paid for.
And he was leaving her alone in it.
The unease settled deep in his chest.
Before he left, he stepped into the hallway and dialed a number from memory.
Leila answered on the second ring.
“Brother,” she said sleepily. “If this is about breakfast—”
“I need you here today,” he interrupted quietly.
That woke her.
“With her?”
“Yes.”
A pause, then warmth. “Of course. I’ll be there in twenty.”
“Thank you.”
When he returned to the bedroom, Flora had shifted onto her side, one hand tucked beneath her cheek, hair tangled across the pillow. He brushed it back gently.
“You’re not alone,” he murmured. “Not anymore.”
Then he left.
---
By the time Nasir reached his office, the softness was gone.
The man who stepped through those doors was not the one who laughed on couches and learned card games badly on purpose.
This man was all edges.
Rafe was already waiting, coffee untouched, tension written plainly across his face.
“We confirmed Hale’s last shipment,” Rafe began immediately. “Arms coming through the southern docks in four days. Heavy load.”
Nasir loosened his cuffs slowly. “Good.”
“Good?” Rafe echoed.
“Means he’s confident,” Nasir replied. “Confident men make mistakes.”
The door opened again.
Another presence entered the room.
Tall. Broad. Cold.
His cousin.
Kamal had always been the part of the family no one liked naming.
Where Nasir strategized, Kamal erased.
Where Nasir built empires quietly, Kamal burned obstacles out of the way.
“Cousin,” Kamal greeted, lips twitching into something that resembled a smile. “Heard you’re finally hunting something interesting.”
Nasir gestured to the chair. “Sit.”
They told him everything.
About Victor Hale.
About the contract.
About the girl.
Kamal listened without interruption, fingers steepled beneath his chin.
When they finished, he nodded once. “I’ll enjoy dismantling him.”
“Not yet,” Nasir said.
Kamal arched a brow. “You’re getting sentimental.”
“I’m getting precise.”
Nasir moved to the board on the wall and began sketching names, routes, ports.
“Hale runs three primary lines,” he said. “We don’t strike him head-on. We hollow him out.”
Rafe leaned forward. “We plant someone inside.”
Nasir nodded. “Already working on it.”
“A mole?” Kamal said, intrigued. “Risky.”
“Necessary,” Nasir replied. “I want his buyers. His suppliers. His protection network. When I move, I want him standing alone.”
“And the girl?” Kamal asked quietly.
The room stilled.
Nasir’s jaw tightened. “She’s untouchable.”
Kamal studied him carefully. “You care.”
“Yes,” Nasir said without hesitation.
That surprised them all.
Rafe recovered first. “We’ll move two men into dock security. One into customs. I can flip a courier within a week.”
“Good,” Nasir said. “I want eyes everywhere.”
Kamal smiled, slow and dangerous. “And when you’re ready to end it?”
Nasir turned from the board, eyes dark.
“Then I’ll take everything from him.”
---
All day, meetings blurred together.
Investors.
Shipments.
Front companies.
But Flora stayed with him, uninvited and constant.
He caught himself checking his phone too often.
Wondering if she was awake.
If she had eaten.
If she was frightened.
When Leila sent a message — She’s adorable. Nervous. We’re making tea. — something in his chest finally loosened.
By evening, the mole was chosen.
A dock supervisor with gambling debts and a sick daughter.
Nasir approved the leverage without hesitation.
By nightfall, Victor Hale’s operation had a hole in it and did not yet know it was bleeding.
Only then did Nasir allow himself to go home.
---
Flora was sitting on the couch when he returned, Leila beside her, both of them laughing at something small and ridiculous.
When she saw him, she stood immediately.
The way her face lit nearly undid him.
“You’re back,” she said, relief naked in her voice.
“I’m back,” he confirmed.
Leila smirked. “I’ll leave you two to your domestic fantasy.”
“Leila,” he warned.
She kissed Flora’s cheek and disappeared.
The apartment was quiet again.
Flora hovered uncertainly, hands twisting together.
“Was work… hard?” she asked.
“Yes,” he admitted.
She nodded, then surprised him by stepping closer, resting her forehead against his chest.
“I’m glad you came home,” she whispered.
Home.
The word struck deeper than any weapon ever had.
He wrapped his arms around her slowly.
“So am I.”
She had no idea.
No idea that men were hunting her.
No idea that contracts existed with her name on them.
No idea that wars were being planned quietly in rooms like his.
For now, she only knew that she was not alone.
And Nasir intended to keep it that way.
Even if it meant burning an empire to the ground.
That night, as she slept beside him—peaceful, unaware of how close danger truly was—Nasir stared at the ceiling and accepted the truth he could no longer deny.
Flora wasn’t just someone he cared for.
She was the line.
And anyone who crossed it would learn exactly what his name meant.
- Writer
