Chapter 46
1112 Words
✨What Breaks A Man.✨
Nasir Pov
The city slid past the windshield in a slow ribbon of lights, blurred by motion and the quiet inside the car. Nasir drove with one hand on the wheel, the other threaded through Flora’s fingers like it belonged there—like it had always belonged there. Every few minutes, without thinking, he lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles. Soft. Reverent. A habit already forming.
She noticed after the third time.
“You’re doing it again,” she said, trying for teasing, failing to hide the warmth in her voice.
“Doing what?”
“That.” She lifted their joined hands slightly. “You kiss my hand like you’re… grounding yourself.”
He glanced at her then—really looked. The way the city lights caught in her eyes, the way she sat a little closer now without fear tightening her shoulders.
“Maybe I am,” he said.
She went quiet, lips curving, cheeks warming. “You don’t do this... Is everything alright?”
“No,” he agreed. “I don’t.” He said not answering her question.
They stopped for food at a place that smelled like fried dough and comfort. Nothing expensive. No white tablecloths. Flora hovered near the menu board like the choices were too big for her hands.
“What if I choose the wrong thing?” she whispered.
Nasir leaned against the counter, amused and fond. “Then we’ll eat it anyway.”
She laughed—a small, surprised sound—and finally ordered. When it came time for dessert, she froze again, torn between two options.
“Just pick both,” he said easily.
Her eyes widened. “I can’t do that.”
“Watch you,” he said, already paying.
She protested all the way to the table, then ate both with quiet delight, licking sugar from her fingers like she didn’t care who saw. Nasir watched her like the world had narrowed to that table, that smile, that unguarded ease.
The park was softer. Quieter. Evening had settled in, turning the grass silver and the air cool. Flora knelt the moment a puppy barreled toward her, all paws and enthusiasm. She laughed freely as it climbed into her lap, tail wagging violently, licking her hands.
Nasir stayed back, arms crossed loosely, heart full in a way that unsettled him.
This—this—was what she should have had. Laughter without consequence. Touch without fear. Moments that didn’t require bracing for impact.
When she finally stood, brushing grass from her dress, she slipped her hand back into his like it was instinct now.
At home, he walked her to the door. She lingered. He kissed her forehead, slow and deliberate, his palm warm at her lower back.
He kissed her.
Not hurried. Not hungry. Just firm enough to promise, gentle enough to keep her steady. His mouth lingered like he was sealing something sacred—like this was a vow he didn’t need words for. His hand came up to cradle her jaw, thumb brushing the corner of her lips as if memorizing the feel of her there.
Flora went still beneath it, breath catching, the world narrowing to the warmth of him and the certainty in the way he held her—like she wasn’t fragile, like she wasn’t temporary.
When he pulled back, his forehead rested against hers.
“I’m here,” he murmured, low and sure. “Always.”
“I won’t be long,” he said.
She nodded, trusting him with a faith that made his chest ache.
That trust followed him down the hall.
And then the door closed.
---
The warehouse greeted him with steel and oil and shadows—the familiar weight of reality settling back onto his shoulders. His men were already there. Quiet. Ready. Rafe stood near the table, arms braced, tension carved into his posture. Kamal leaned against a crate, still as a coiled blade.
Nasir stepped inside and the warmth he’d carried evaporated.
“We end this,” he said calmly. No theatrics. “Tonight.”
The men straightened. This was the tone they listened to.
Rafe didn’t move right away. That hesitation—so rare—set something cold stirring in Nasir’s gut.
“Before we proceed,” Rafe said, voice low, “there’s more.”
Nasir turned slowly. “Say it.”
“Victor Hale isn’t the center of this,” Rafe continued. “He’s a middleman. The engagement was arranged through him, but the buyer—”
Nasir’s jaw tightened. “Buyer.”
“A dangerous man. Well-protected. Victor just moved the paperwork.”
The air thickened.
“And the abuse?” Nasir asked, already knowing the answer wouldn’t be clean.
Rafe’s gaze dropped. “It didn’t start with Victor. It started at home.”
Kamal’s head lifted sharply.
“Trump believed Flora wasn’t his,” Rafe said quietly. “Margery had an affair years ago. Trump found out—or convinced himself it was true. He punished the child for it. Years of it.”
Something in Nasir snapped—not loudly, not visibly, but completely.
All the pieces slammed together. The fear. The silence. The way Flora apologized when she took up space. The way she flinched at anger like it had teeth.
“And Cambilly?” Nasir asked, voice dangerously even.
“Trump doesn’t believe she’s his either.”
Nasir turned away, hands braced on the table, breath slow and controlled. Rage surged, hot and blinding, but he forced it down, shaped it into something precise.
This wasn’t discipline. This wasn’t control.
This was cruelty.
He turned to Kamal.
“Find Trump.”
Kamal straightened. “Alive?”
Nasir didn’t blink. “No.”
Kamal was already moving, issuing orders, vanishing into motion.
Nasir faced Rafe again. “Victor loses his eastern supply line tonight. Quiet. No witnesses.”
Rafe nodded. “Already mapped. Once it’s cut, the rest will panic.”
“Good,” Nasir said. “Let them.”
As the men dispersed, as engines hummed to life and plans locked into place, Nasir’s thoughts betrayed him—drifting back to Flora. Probably curled up somewhere soft. Probably replaying the park. Probably waiting without knowing she was waiting.
The contrast nearly split him open.
Victor had underestimated him.
Trump had mistaken fear for power.
They had both forgotten what Nasir did best.
He protected what was his.
And when he decided something had to end—
It ended.
Nasir stepped into the night, the city sharp and unforgiving around him, every step fueled by one singular truth:
No one would ever touch her again.
- Writer
