Chapter 110

Chapter 110
Rhys P.O.V
I was going to kill them.
If I hadn’t gotten there in time—if I’d been just a minute later…
My hands clenched around the steering wheel so tight I thought it might snap in half. I kept my eyes on the road, the rain slicking the pavement and blurring the headlights, but my thoughts were back at the bus stop. Back to the way Riley looked—small, soaked, shaking.
Frightened.
Two assholes thinking they could touch her. Hurt her. Like she was just another girl walking home alone.
They didn’t know who she was. Who her parents were. Who I was.
They didn’t care.
But I did.
Gosh, I did.
And that was the problem.
“This is part of the plan,” I muttered to myself, voice low and tight as I turned onto the darker, quieter roads away from the academy and toward the edges of town. “Keep her close. Earn her trust. Be there when she needs someone.”
This was textbook manipulation. Emotional dependency. A crucial piece of the setup.
But my chest told a different story.
My jaw still ached from the punches I’d thrown. I wanted to go back and hit them again. Harder. Make them bleed for even looking at her like that.
I wasn’t supposed to feel this way.
Riley sat beside me, quiet and pale. Her hoodie was clutched around her body like a shield, but it couldn’t hide the tremble in her fingers or the streaks of mascara still smudged beneath her lashes. Her legs were drawn up slightly, knees tight together, as if trying to disappear into herself.
I hated how breakable she looked.
Hated how close I’d come to losing control in front of her.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered suddenly, her voice barely audible over the hum of the engine.
“For what?” I asked, startled.
“For being stupid. For sneaking out. For thinking I could just catch a bus like a normal person and not… not…” Her voice cracked.
I exhaled, steadying myself. “None of that was your fault.”
Her silence said she didn’t believe me.
We reached the edge of her property—the usual drop-off spot, the one just shy of the cameras and the sharp-eyed guards. She opened the door slowly, hesitated on the edge, and then slid out into the rain.
She took a few hesitant steps toward the house.
And I should’ve let her go.
I should’ve driven off.
But I didn’t.
“Riley,” I called.
She stopped and turned.
Even in the dark, even with the water dripping from her hair and the tremble in her shoulders, she looked… beautiful.
She walked back toward me, head tilted slightly. “Yeah?”
I opened the door wider and stepped out, motioning to her side. “Your clothes… they’re torn.”
Her eyes widened in horror as she glanced down at herself. The soaked hoodie clung to her body, revealing more than it hid. Her shirt had a tear near the hem. Her jeans were dirty, scraped. And the realization hit her all at once.
“Oh, gosh,” she gasped. “My parents are going to kill me.”
She rushed back to the passenger seat, slamming the door shut, breathing hard.
“They’ll know I snuck out. They’ll see—my mom will freak. She always notices everything.”
I tried to stay calm, to think like the Rhys who came here with a plan. The one with a mission and a goal.
“I can get you another dress,” I said quickly. “There’s a boutique a few streets down. It’s late, but I know the owner. I’ll make a call.”
She nodded fast, biting her lip, curling in on herself.
“Okay. Okay, please.”
I shifted into gear and started driving.
But then I made the mistake of glancing over at her.
Her hoodie had fallen slightly to the side, soaked through completely. The fabric stuck to her skin, outlining the soft curve of her chest, the dip of her waist. Her bra was barely visible under the thin cotton, and she was completely unaware of it.
I swallowed hard.
Heat coiled low in my gut, sharp and urgent. I looked away, jaw clenched, fighting the rush of instinct that roared in my blood like fire.
Get a grip, Rhys.
I gritted my teeth and focused on the road. The rain was relentless, hammering the windshield like static noise, but nothing could drown out the pounding of my pulse.
This wasn’t supposed to happen.
She wasn’t supposed to do this to me.
She wasn’t supposed to look at me like I was her hero.
She was supposed to be a target.
A means to an end.
Just a girl I had to manipulate long enough to drive a blade into the heart of her family. That was what I was trained for. What I promised my father. What I lived for.
But the thought of Riley hurt… of her broken and afraid and crying in someone else’s arms—it burned.
I didn’t want to hurt her.
I wanted to protect her.
I wanted to touch her skin not in power, but in comfort.
I wanted her to want me.
And not because of the plan.
Because of me.
We pulled up outside the small boutique tucked between a bakery and a candle shop. I jumped out, left the car running, and ran inside, calling in a favor with the sleepy-eyed manager. A few minutes later, I returned with a clean change of clothes: a soft oversized sweater and leggings, simple and comfortable.
I handed them to her without a word.
She looked up at me with wide, grateful eyes. “Thank you.”
I nodded. “You can change in the backseat. I’ll keep my eyes forward.”
She hesitated, then climbed into the back, careful to keep herself out of view. I heard the soft rustle of wet fabric, the zip of her jeans, the quiet sigh as she slipped into something warm and dry.
I didn’t look.
But Gosh, I wanted to.
Every instinct in me was screaming. Not just for her body, but for her closeness. Her warmth. The way she said my name like it mattered.
When she slid back into the passenger seat, cheeks pink, eyes tired but thankful, I kept my hands glued to the wheel.
I had to hold the line.
Stay sharp.
Stay focused.
But when she looked at me, something in me broke all over again.
She was supposed to be a mission.
But sitting there in the passenger seat, wrapped in the sweater I chose, smelling like rain and trembling from something bigger than cold—
She was something else entirely.
And I didn’t know how to survive her.