Lachlan
The air in the heart of Detroit was thick with the scent of exhaust fumes and burnt rubber, a constant reminder of the city's pulse—a rhythm both broken and relentless. In the past this city was the heart of Michigan, the heart of The United Confederacy's automotive industry. Years of overpopulation and lack of urban planning cause the people of Detroit to start building up. The stacks, glorified cabinets for people, it also happens to be my home.
I'm nothing special. Below average grades, looks, personality, the list goes on. I'm one of two kids from my parents, the baby of the family, treated as anything but. I walk the streets of this city looking at the signs of the Sterling Corp, I hate it. The only redeeming qualities are my family and her, Delilah. She is my confidant, my crush, and my best friend.
"Delilah!" I yell through the crowd of people.
"Lach!" She yells back as she jumps in my arms. "I've missed you"
"Likewise, Happy new year, How was your vacation?"
"Oh you know, boring with my family, lots of gross guys hitting on me."
"Well, you are quite attractive, so can't blame them." I respond with a grin. I chuckle, giving her a playful squeeze. "But seriously, how's everything else? What's been keeping you busy these days?"
She rolls her eyes, but I can see the smirk tugging at her lips. "Same old stuff, you know—school, work, and trying to dodge all the creeps." She shrugs dramatically, making a show of exasperation. "But enough about me. What's your excuse for not visiting sooner?"
I raise an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "You know how it is... I've been drowning in work, but I'm here now. So, tell me, what's your New Year's resolution?"
Delilah grins, tapping her chin like she's deep in thought. "To finally learn how to say no to the guys who ask me out on terrible dates." She pauses, then adds with a wink, "And maybe, just maybe, get a little more sleep."
I sense the shift in her demeanor as she pulls back slightly, her smile returning, but now there's something colder behind it. She leans in a little closer, her voice lower, almost coaxing. "You're always so worried about me, Lach. It's sweet, really," she says, her eyes locking with mine in a way that feels almost predatory now.
I blink, taken aback by the change in tone, but I try to keep my focus. "Delilah, what's going on? You're acting a little... strange."
Her grin widens, a flicker of amusement in her gaze as she steps back slightly, her hands resting lightly on my shoulders. "Strange? Maybe. But I know you, Lach. You always want to fix things. Always trying to save people. It's one of the things I've always liked about you," she says, her words smooth and measured, like she's trying to get under my skin.
I shift uncomfortably, trying to read her, but there's something about her presence that feels almost suffocating now. "What are you getting at?"
She tilts her head, feigning innocence, but I see the subtle glint of manipulation in her eyes. "Oh, nothing, really. I just think it's cute how you think you can fix me. How you think you know me so well," she says, her voice dripping with sweetness. "But maybe... just maybe, I don't need fixing. Maybe I just need someone to... listen."
She steps closer again, her breath warm against my ear. "And I know you'll listen, Lach. You always do. No matter what I ask of you."
I can feel the subtle shift in power, the way she's slowly taking control of the conversation. I swallow, unsure how to respond. "Delilah... I'm not some project."
She pulls back, eyes sparkling with mischief, as if she knows exactly what she's doing to me. "Of course you're not. You're just the perfect person for the job, aren't you? Always so willing to help, to make sure everyone else is okay. It's what makes you so... dependable."
Her words hang in the air, heavy with something more than just affection. It feels like a game now—one I'm not sure I want to play. "And what exactly do you want, Delilah?" I ask, my voice a little sharper than before.
She smiles again, slow and knowing, as if she's been waiting for me to ask. "Oh, I think you already know, Lach. You've always known."
Delilah's smile softens, almost sweet, but there's an edge to it now, something dangerous. She steps closer again, her body brushing against mine in a way that feels too deliberate. Her hand grazes my arm, just enough to send a shiver down my spine. "Lach," she says softly, her voice full of promise, "you're always so good to me. So... patient. I really do appreciate it."
I swallow hard, trying to ignore the fluttering in my chest. "I just want to make sure you're alright," I reply, though my voice is weaker than I want it to be.
She tilts her head, eyes flicking to my lips before meeting my gaze again, her expression playful yet calculating. "I know," she says, her tone almost a purr now. "You've always been like that, haven't you? Always so ready to drop everything for me. It's... kind of irresistible, honestly."
I stare at her, heart racing, trying to figure out what she's really doing. "Delilah, what are you saying?"
Her hand moves to my chest, her fingers lightly tracing the fabric of my shirt. She leans in just a little closer, her breath hot against my neck. "I don't know... maybe that you've always been the one person who really gets me," she whispers, her words hanging in the air like an invitation. "Maybe you're the only one I can count on."
For a moment, I'm lost in her gaze, her proximity. But something inside me warns me that this is all too easy, too manipulative. "You don't need me to fix you, Delilah," I say, forcing myself to stay calm. "You're more than capable of handling things on your own."
She laughs softly, almost mockingly, pulling back just a bit to study me. "I know I can, but where's the fun in doing everything alone, Lach?" Her eyes drop to my lips again, her voice lower. "I like having you around. You make things... better."
I can feel myself getting caught up in her words, the pull of her attention, but something inside me clenches. She's toying with me, leading me on, like she's done before. "I'm not just some backup, Delilah," I say, my voice firmer now, even though my heart is still racing.
Her lips curl into a teasing smile, and she lets out a soft sigh, as if she's disappointed. "Oh, come on, Lach. You're not just 'some backup.' You're... special to me. You know that, don't you?" Her fingers trail down my arm, and she presses a soft kiss on my cheek, lingering there just a moment too long.
She pulls back, eyes glinting with amusement, as if she's getting exactly what she wants. "But maybe... we can take things slow. You know, see where this goes. You never know, right?"
Her words are like a promise, but the way she says them—so casual, so effortless—makes it clear that she's in control. I'm not sure if I'm falling for it, or if I'm just playing along with whatever game she's decided to set in motion.
But deep down, I know the truth. Delilah doesn't want me to fix her. She just likes knowing she has me wrapped around her finger. And right now, I'm not sure if I'm strong enough to walk away.
Delilah pulls back suddenly, her fingers slipping from my arm as if the connection was never there. The sudden distance between us feels like a punch to the gut, and I'm left standing, frozen, trying to process what just happened.
She gives me a tight smile, almost too practiced. "Actually, I just remembered something," she says, her voice quick and dismissive, as if she's trying to hide the shift in her mood. "I have to go find someone. Can't keep them waiting." Her eyes flicker to the crowd, as though she's already mentally checked out of the moment.
I blink, thrown off balance by the sudden change in her behavior. "Wait, Delilah—" I start, but she's already stepping away, her movements sharp and deliberate.
She turns her head just enough to shoot me a glance over her shoulder. "Don't worry, Lach. I'll see you around, okay?" The words are casual, but there's no warmth in them anymore. It's like she's already moved on, already forgotten the tension, the flirtation, the moment we shared.
I stand there, staring at her retreating figure, a mixture of confusion and frustration building inside me. What the hell just happened?
Delilah disappears into the crowd, leaving me standing alone in the middle of it all, feeling suddenly smaller, like I've been cast aside without even realizing it. My heart is still pounding, my mind racing, but I can't shake the feeling that I've just been played.
I try to shake it off, telling myself it doesn't matter, but deep down, I know it does. I don't know if I'm just another pawn in her game or if she really meant anything she said to me. Either way, I'm left with nothing but the sting of her absence and the hollow echo of her words.
I stand there for a moment, staring at the spot where Delilah just disappeared into the crowd, feeling a strange emptiness settle in my chest. What the hell just happened? One minute, it felt like we were connected—like there was something real there—and the next, she was gone, leaving me with nothing but a fading smile and the feeling that I'd been used.
I turn away, my thoughts swirling in a haze of confusion and frustration. My heart still races, but it's not from excitement anymore. It's from the hurt, the betrayal, the nagging sense that I've been nothing more than a distraction for her. I shove my hands into my jacket pockets, my mind replaying every moment, trying to figure out where it all went wrong.
The crowd feels suffocating now, the laughter and music fading into the background as I push through it, heading for the exit. I can't shake the feeling of her touch, her words lingering in my head like some twisted melody. I thought we had something, but maybe I was just a pawn in her game. A game she didn't even care to finish.
By the time I reach the sidewalk, the weight of it all presses down on me, and I walk slower, letting my feet guide me home. The cold air bites at my face, but I barely notice. My thoughts are tangled, replaying every conversation, every glance, every touch, trying to make sense of it. But it doesn't add up.
I pass a dark alley, the shadows swallowing the light from the street lamps. I'm not paying attention—too lost in my own head—and that's when I hear it: footsteps, too many for it to just be a coincidence.
Before I can react, a hand grabs my shoulder, yanking me back, and I stumble into the alley. My heart jumps into my throat as I spin around, only to face a group of three guys, all wearing hoodies pulled low over their faces, their eyes cold and calculating.
"Hey, man," one of them says, a smirk twisting on his lips. "Got any money on you?"
I swallow hard, my fists clenching at my sides. "I don't want any trouble," I say, trying to keep my voice steady, but my mind races, fighting the panic creeping up my throat.
"Too bad," the same guy sneers. "Trouble's what you're about to get."
Before I can make a move, one of them pushes me hard, sending me crashing into the brick wall of the alley. The impact knocks the wind out of me, and I gasp for air. My vision spins for a second, but I shake it off, trying to focus. I know I'm outnumbered, but I can't just let them take whatever they want without a fight.
One of them steps forward, cracking his knuckles. "Hand it over, man. Now."
I take a shaky breath, knowing it's pointless to resist. They're too many, too aggressive. My mind is still reeling from the encounter with Delilah, and now I'm standing here, cornered in this alley, with no way out.
But before I can say anything more, one of them lunges forward, throwing a punch to my stomach. The air rushes out of my lungs, and I double over, barely able to catch my breath. I try to push back, to get my footing, but they're relentless, landing blows, knocking me further into the darkness.
My head spins as I stagger back, the taste of blood sharp in my mouth. I barely register the pain—it's nothing compared to the mess of emotions swirling in my head. What the hell is happening to me tonight? First Delilah, now this...
The guys continue to shove and punch, their laughter echoing in the cold air. But through the haze of pain, one thing becomes clear: this night has turned into a nightmare. The feeling of betrayal, of being used, it's not just from Delilah anymore. It's from this whole mess of a world, and I have no idea how to fix it.
Finally, they back off, laughing as they take whatever they can find—my wallet, my phone—and leave me there, slumped against the wall, bleeding and bruised.
I don't know how long I stay there, just sitting in the alley, trying to catch my breath. But eventually, I push myself to my feet, the weight of everything pressing down on me. The cuts on my face sting, the bruises already forming on my body. But it's not the pain that hurts the most.
It's the feeling that, somehow, I've lost control. And now, the world's just taking whatever it can from me, piece by piece.
And there's nothing I can do to stop it.
I barely have the strength to get up, my body aching with every movement, the sting of blood and bruises clouding my thoughts. My head is pounding, and I can feel the darkness creeping in, the cold alley swallowing me whole as I struggle to stay conscious. My vision flickers, like I'm on the verge of passing out, and the world feels muffled, distant, as if I'm watching it from underwater.
Just as I slump back against the brick wall, my mind wandering, I hear a sound—a low growl, almost like a warning. My eyes snap open, but everything is blurry. I can't tell if it's real or if I'm just hallucinating.
Then, I hear it again, louder this time, and this time, I know it's real. Someone's footsteps. Heavy, deliberate, but... not the footsteps of a passerby. These steps are slow, purposeful.
Before I can react, a figure appears in the alley, moving toward me with an eerie calmness. He's tall, imposing—his broad shoulders and confident stride cutting through the shadows like a predator on the hunt. He's dressed in dark clothing, the kind of look that says he knows how to handle himself, but it's his presence that makes the air around him feel charged.
I try to focus, but my vision wavers. "Who... who are you?" My voice cracks, barely a whisper.
He stops just in front of me, standing still for a moment, studying me with intense eyes that gleam even in the low light. There's something strange about his presence—something ancient, almost otherworldly. His expression is unreadable, like he's seen too much to be fazed by anything anymore.
"You're lucky I came when I did," his voice is deep, gravelly, but calm, like a storm hiding just beneath the surface. "You're in no condition to be out here alone."
I try to stand, but the pain in my body makes the effort futile. "I don't... need help," I rasp, trying to push myself up, but my legs fail me, and I stumble forward.
The stranger moves faster than I can track, his hand reaching out to steady me before I fall. He grabs my arm, his grip firm, but somehow not painful, like he knows just how much pressure to apply.
"Doesn't seem like you're in a position to turn down help," he says, his voice laced with something between amusement and concern. He lifts me slightly, guiding me to my feet with ease. "You should've stayed away from this part of town."
I manage to glance up at him, confusion still clouding my thoughts. "Who... are you?" I ask again, my voice weaker now, my body trembling from the cold and the shock.
He looks down at me for a long moment, then seems to make a decision. His expression softens, just a fraction, as if he's assessing whether or not he should explain. "Chiron," he says simply, his gaze scanning the dark alley. "I think you've had enough of this night. Let me help you get out of here."
I try to process his name, but it doesn't make sense. Something about him feels... wrong, in a way, but not threatening. More like he's not from this world. But the pain is too much for me to argue with, and as much as I hate the idea of being helpless, I know I can't stand on my own.
Chiron doesn't wait for me to say anything more. He wraps one of my arms around his shoulders and starts walking, guiding me out of the alley with a calm efficiency that tells me this isn't the first time he's dealt with situations like this.
"I'm not going to hurt you," he says, his voice reassuring but distant. "Just relax. You'll be fine."
I let him lead me through the streets, my legs weak beneath me, my mind still racing with the chaos of the night. Delilah's face flickers in my thoughts—her smile, her words, the way she walked away without a second glance. The betrayal still stings, but the pain in my body is more immediate, and for the first time tonight, I feel like I might actually be able to make it out of this alive.
We reach a quieter street, and Chiron slows, lowering me onto a nearby bench, his grip still steady as he helps me sit. He stands a few feet away from me, his gaze sweeping the surroundings as though he's expecting something.
I watch him, my thoughts still hazy, and I can't shake the feeling that this encounter isn't just a random act of kindness. There's something about him, something different. "You... know how to handle yourself," I mumble, trying to make sense of it all.
He looks down at me, his expression unreadable again. "I've had to," he says quietly. "I've had a lot of time to learn."
Before I can ask what he means, he's already pulling a first aid kit from a bag slung over his shoulder, his movements efficient, practiced. He doesn't seem rushed, but there's something about him that suggests time doesn't have the same weight for him as it does for me.
"Let me patch you up," he says, kneeling in front of me.
I don't argue. He's the first person tonight who's offered any real help. And for whatever reason, I trust him—at least enough to let him do what he needs to do. The night has already taken too much from me.
I watch Chiron work, the quiet intensity of his focus almost soothing, and for the first time in hours, I feel like I can finally breathe again.
But even as I feel the warmth of his care, I can't shake the feeling that there's more to him than meets the eye—more than I'll ever understand.
And for some reason, that doesn't scare me.