💬 A Little Note from the Author
I’m a French author, and this is the English adaptation of my original story.
The English edition is being released progressively, and I’d really love to hear from native or fluent English readers.
Does the writing feel natural to you?
Do the dialogue and narration flow well?
Are there any expressions that sound too French or translated?
Feel free to leave a comment below and tell me what you think. No account is required. You can also contact me by email. 🖤
Your feedback genuinely helps me improve the English edition as new chapters are released.
Thank you so much for reading!
The bass at the Black Rabbit pounds through the room and straight into my chest. The air smells of spilled beer, sweat, and fryer grease.
Beside me, Nolan squeezes my hand. His fingers are clammy. He is wearing that bright, naive smile that made me fall for him three years ago—an unshakable optimism that lights up his clean-cut architect’s face.
Tonight, that smile mostly makes me want to bolt for the emergency exit.
« He’ll be here any minute, Blair. »
Nolan keeps staring at the heavy wooden door. He’s practically bouncing on his heels, too excited to hide it.
« Calm down. You’re going to spill your beer on my shoes, » I say dryly. « And I happen to like these sneakers. They’re my preferred footwear for surviving disasters. »
Nolan laughs.
He doesn’t notice my anxiety.
He never notices tension.
« It’s Kael, Blair. Five years locked up. Five years. » His grin widens. « I just want everything to be perfect when he gets back. »
I fold my arms.
Locked up.
The words hang between us, thick and ugly.
We never talk about the real reason Kael disappeared. The blood. The brutality. His father’s body beaten beyond recognition.
Nolan prefers the cleaner version: his best friend snapped while defending himself against a monster.
The courts called it brutal homicide with mitigating circumstances.
I spend my days as a financial analyst assessing risk, calculating margins of error, and predicting bankruptcies before they happen.
Kael Blackwood is a losing investment.
A statistical anomaly that destroys everything it touches.
The front door swings open.
A blast of icy Boston air cuts through the heat of the bar.
Kael steps inside.
The noise around me seems to freeze.
It’s physical.
The man walking toward us barely resembles the brooding boy I used to avoid in the high-school hallways. He’s huge now. Broad shoulders. Worn black leather jacket. Dark T-shirt stretched across a body that looks forged out of concrete, survival, and violence.
But it’s his eyes that lock me in place.
Dark brown.
Watchful.
His dark brown eyes sweep the room. It’s not a human gaze. It’s the clinical assessment of a predator mapping exits, obstacles, and prey.
Then he sees us.
His gaze locks on me.
Not Nolan.
Me.
The air thins in my lungs.
I straighten my spine.
I refuse to give him even an inch.
« Brother! »
Nolan drops my hand and throws himself at him. He wraps Kael in a fierce hug. Kael accepts it stiffly, but over Nolan’s shoulder, his face remains carved from stone.
And he keeps looking at me.
Something dark flickers in his eyes.
Something almost unhinged.
Nolan finally pulls back and slaps him on the shoulder.
« Look at you. You’re enormous. » He laughs. « Come on. Blair’s been looking forward to seeing you. »
Lie.
I’ve been looking forward to this about as much as a surprise tax audit.
Kael takes one step toward me.
A polar chill seems to radiate from him.
He smells faintly of tobacco, cold rain, and wet leather.
« Blair. »
His voice is lower than I remember.
Rougher.
It slides down my spine like the edge of a knife.
« Welcome back, Kael. »
My tone is polite.
Clinical.
Completely fake.
He tilts his head.
His gaze moves over my face, pauses on my mouth, then drifts to the curve of my neck.
The assessment is obscene.
Nolan is less than two feet away, busy flagging down the bartender for another round, completely blind to the silent power struggle unfolding beside him.
« You haven’t changed. »
Kael steps close enough to invade my space. His breath brushes my temple.
« Still beautiful. » His voice drops. « Sweetheart. »
My whole body tightens.
The pet name feels like an attack.
« Don’t call me that. We’re not in high school anymore. » I hold his gaze. « And I’m with Nolan. »
One corner of his mouth lifts.
There is no humor in it.
« Nolan’s a lucky man. »
A beat.
« But luck changes. »
« Not with me. My capital is locked down. »
He moves half a step closer.
My back touches the sticky edge of the bar.
I could escape to the bathroom.
I stay exactly where I am.
Kael’s large, scarred hands clench only inches from my hips.
« My angel, » he murmurs, so low only I can hear. « I thought about you every night in there. The silence. The cold. Your face was the only thing that kept me alive. »
His eyes hold mine.
« You’ve been mine since the first day. »
My stomach twists hard.
There is madness in the certainty of those words.
This isn’t a romantic confession.
It’s a life sentence.
Nolan turns back toward us carrying three glasses.
« Drinks for the guest of honor! »
Kael steps back barely an inch.
His social mask slides into place so smoothly it makes my skin crawl.
He takes the amber beer from Nolan.
The front door opens again.
Quinn walks in, her red hair spilling over a denim jacket covered in patches. Her hazel eyes sweep the bar, land on Kael, then immediately flick to me.
The tattoo artist misses nothing.
« Hey, everyone. » She leans against the bar beside me. « Kael. Prison looks good on you. Was it the stale bread or the yard fights? »
« Quinn. »
He says her name without a trace of warmth.
She arches a brow.
« Still charming. »
« It’s my signature. »
Quinn nudges me lightly with her elbow.
A silent question.
You okay?
Her eyes add the rest.
Because he’s looking at you like a fucking starving wolf.
I give the smallest possible shake of my head.
No.
I’m not okay.
The rest of the evening stretches into slow torture.
Nolan carries the conversation, talking about construction projects, our apartment, the bright future apparently waiting for all three of us. Kael listens. Nods at the right moments. Asks the right questions.
But his attention always returns to me.
Constant pressure.
Heavy enough to burn through my composure.
He studies everything—the way I cross my legs, the way I lift my wine to my mouth, every reaction I try not to give him.
By midnight, the air feels poisonous.
« I need some air, » I say, setting my empty glass on the bar.
Nolan smiles at me.
« Want company? »
« No. Stay with him. It’s his night. »
I slip out through the back exit.
The alley behind the bar is dark, cluttered with overflowing dumpsters and wooden pallets. Freezing air slaps across my face, sharp enough to clear my head.
I breathe deeply. The contrast with the suffocating heat inside is a relief.
The metal door groans open behind me.
Boots scrape over wet asphalt.
Kael.
He walks into the darkness.
A weak streetlamp cuts his face in half—one side pale, the other swallowed by shadow.
The monster is out of its cage.
« Nolan’s waiting for you, » I say.
My voice comes out steadier than I feel.
Kael stops about six feet away and slides his hands into his jacket pockets.
« Nolan bores me. »
His mouth barely moves.
« He always has. »
« He’s your best friend. »
« He’s an alibi. »
The complete lack of emotion in his voice knocks the breath out of me.
« What do you want, Kael? »
One step.
Then another.
He closes the distance until my back is almost against the brick wall. He’s so tall I have to tilt my chin to keep looking at him.
Heat rolls off his body into the freezing night.
« You, Blair. »
He lifts one hand.
His thumb brushes my lower lip with a gentleness that feels completely wrong coming from a man built like him.
The touch shoots electricity through me.
Pure.
Forbidden.
I don’t move.
I don’t push him away.
« I wanted you before he ever dared put his hands on you. »
His gaze darkens.
« And now that I’m free, I’m taking you back. »
He isn’t asking.
He’s imposing a new rule.
The trap has just snapped shut.
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