My Rival Burned Down My Business — Then I Took A Poisoned Knife To Save His Life
Part 1
The cold concrete of the abandoned warehouse smelled like motor oil and damp earth.
I stood completely still in the shadows.
My heart hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs.
This was supposed to be a peaceful exchange.
Tyler had sworn to me that his faction wouldn’t draw weapons tonight.
I should have known better than to put my faith in a man who traded his childhood loyalty for cheap street power.
Across the dimly lit space stood Craig.
The whispers in the alleys called him the King of the southern district.
He was the ruthless syndicate boss who had methodically dismantled everything I loved.
Just three months ago, he gave the emotionless order to burn my bar to the ground.
The Crossroads wasn’t just a business to me.
It was my only true home.
It was a sanctuary for the broken people of this city.
He reduced it to ash just to send a political message to his rivals.
I hated him with a passion that burned far hotter than the fire he had started.
Yet, standing here watching the hostile negotiations unfold, an inexplicable pull tugged relentlessly at my chest.
I couldn’t bring myself to take my eyes off his broad shoulders.
He moved with a calm, predatory grace that made the stale warehouse air feel entirely too thin.
Every instinct I had screamed at me to run away.
But that strange, invisible tether kept my feet glued to the floor.
The fragile tension in the warehouse snapped when a rusted metal door crashed open.
Men poured in from the hidden exits like a dark flood.
Tyler’s guys were shouting curses.
Craig’s elite enforcers raised their weapons in perfect synchronization.
Chaos erupted in a sudden, deafening roar of gunfire.
I stayed firmly hidden behind a massive stack of wooden crates.
My breath hitched painfully in my throat as I watched the brutal violence unfold.
Through the chaotic blur of moving bodies, my eyes caught a terrifying flash of silver.
A man dropped silently from the steel rafters right behind Craig.
He held a wicked, curved blade meant for gutting animals.
The metal gleamed under the flickering lights with a sickly, dark residue.
Poison.
Craig was completely turned around.
He was shouting tactical orders to his frontline men.
He absolutely didn’t see the killer descending upon his blind spot.
I didn’t stop to think.
I didn’t remind myself that this was the very monster who had destroyed my livelihood.
My body moved entirely on its own accord.
I burst from the safety of the shadows.
My voice tore from my throat in a raw scream.
I shoved my shoulder with everything I had into Craig’s solid back.
We both went tumbling violently to the unforgiving concrete floor.
A blinding, white-hot agony exploded across my left side.
The world tilted in a sickening rush of colors.
I heard furious shouting echoing around me as if I were submerged underwater.
Rough, frantic hands grabbed my shoulders.
I felt the terrifying warmth of my own blood soaking through my shirt.
Craig’s strong arms were suddenly wrapped securely around me.
He caught me right before my skull could strike the ground.
His face hovered directly above mine.
The usual cold indifference in his eyes was entirely replaced by absolute terror.
He pressed his large hands desperately against my bleeding wound.
His voice was a raw, broken sound tearing directly into my ear.
He begged me to keep my eyes open.
He commanded me to stay with him.
The edges of my vision rapidly dissolved into a terrifying blackness.
The last thing I felt was a blazing, fierce connection humming between our skin.
Then, the heavy darkness pulled me under entirely.
I woke up hours later to the faint smell of industrial antiseptic and old linen.
A deep, agonizing throb radiated from my ribs with every single shallow breath I managed to take.
I winced involuntarily.
Immediately, a large, impossibly warm hand clamped gently onto my bare shoulder.
A low, gravelly voice warned me not to move an inch.
My heavy eyelids fluttered open to the dim glow of a cheap bedside lamp.
I was lying in an unfamiliar, windowless room.
The walls were constructed of bare, unfinished concrete.
A small space heater buzzed loudly in the corner.
Craig sat rigidly in a metal folding chair beside the bed.
His usually immaculate designer shirt was terribly rumpled.
The sleeves were completely stained with dark, dried blood.
My blood.
Dark, heavy circles bruised the pale skin under his eyes.
He looked like he hadn’t slept in an eternity.
He carefully leaned forward.
He lifted a small glass of water directly to my cracked lips.
His long fingers were visibly trembling.
I swallowed the water greedily.
The cool liquid felt like heaven against my parched throat.
I croaked out a question about what had happened.
He set the glass down with a heavy, shuddering sigh.
He told me I had saved his miserable life.
He rubbed his calloused hands roughly over his face.
He admitted he thought the toxic blade was going to take me away from him.
I forced a weak, rattling cough.
I told him the poison dosage probably wasn’t enough to kill a person my size.
He countered swiftly.
His voice was incredibly rough with an emotion he wasn’t quite managing to hide.
He told me the infected wound almost finished the job.
The sheer, naked fear in his tone made my chest tighten painfully.
I studied his exhausted, handsome face.
He completely refused to meet my gaze.
He looked entirely like a man terrified of what he might see reflecting back at him.
His hand rested heavily on the rough blanket.
It was hovering just inches from my own hand.
The proximity sent an electric jolt of heat straight down to my toes.
I quietly thanked him for pulling me out of the chaos.
He finally gathered the courage to look up.
He stared at me, his chest heaving unevenly before he leaned in close, his trembling voice confessing the one truth that changed everything.
