Regulus
Regulus Black had learned early that trust was a dangerous thing.
He had grown up surrounded by people who lied with ease—his family, his associates, even himself. Words were just another tool, sharp and efficient, used to manipulate, to deceive, to keep people at arm’s length.
And yet—
There was something off about Nate Carter.
Regulus had met enough criminals in his life to recognize the type. The smooth talkers, the desperate ones, the ones who thought they were untouchable. Nate was none of those. He didn’t have the manic energy of someone trying too hard, nor the easy indifference of someone who had nothing to lose.
No—Nate Carter was calculated.
He blended in effortlessly, never saying too much, never asking the wrong questions. Too careful. Too polished. And yet, Regulus had caught him hesitating once or twice, just for a second, like he was choosing his words with too much precision.
Regulus didn’t trust anyone easily.
And he sure as hell wasn’t about to start now.
The first time they met, Regulus had been halfway through a cigarette in the alley behind the bar when Nate had stepped outside, hands in his pockets, casual but not careless. He had flicked his gaze over, one brow arched, as if he’d been expecting him.
“You always smoke alone?”
Regulus had exhaled, watching the smoke curl into the cold night air before answering.
“Not always.”
It had been a test.
And Nate had passed it.
He didn’t ask unnecessary questions, didn’t push. Just leaned against the wall, close enough to be comfortable, far enough to respect the space between them.
Regulus had tilted his head slightly, studying him. Trying to figure out what, exactly, made Nate Carter so different.
He hadn’t found an answer.
Not yet.
But that didn’t mean he’d stopped looking.
Regulus had a rule—never let your guard down.
And yet, when he sat across from Nate at a poker game a week later, he found himself watching him more than the cards.
Nate played well. Too well.
He won exactly as much as he should, lost just enough to seem natural. Intentional.
And yet, when Regulus won a particularly good hand, he caught the barest flicker of amusement in Nate’s expression—like he’d let him win.
Regulus tapped his fingers against his glass, considering.
He didn’t like being played with.
Which meant he was going to figure out what, exactly, Nate Carter was hiding.
Regulus knew how to unravel people.
He had spent years watching his family do it, twisting words like knives, learning how to read what wasn’t said. And so, he started testing Nate.
Little things, at first.
A loaded question here, a carefully placed silence there, watching how he responded. Watching for any tells—a flicker of hesitation, a slip in his carefully constructed mask.
Nate never said too much.
But he never said too little, either.
Frustrating.
Regulus found himself watching him too closely, cataloging the details. The way he ran a hand through his hair when he thought too hard. The way his lips pressed together when he was biting back a remark. The way his eyes—brown, too damn expressive for someone so careful—lingered a second too long before he looked away.
And worst of all?
Regulus liked it.
Which was dangerous.
Very, very dangerous.
Regulus had spent years making himself untouchable.
And yet, he couldn’t shake the feeling that Nate Carter was getting too close.
That should have been enough reason to cut him off. Push him out.
But instead, Regulus found himself doing the opposite.
He tested him more, pushed him further. Invited him into conversations that mattered. Watched him closely.
And then one night, after a job went south—**after a meeting that had ended with more blood than deals—**he found himself alone with Nate, drinking whiskey that burned on the way down.
“You don’t ask a lot of questions,” Regulus had said, watching him over the rim of his glass.
“Maybe I already know the answers,” Nate had replied smoothly.
Regulus had smirked. But he hadn’t looked away.
He should have.
He should have walked away before it became a problem.
But he didn’t.
And that, was his first mistake.
The second mistake?
Letting himself believe that Nate Carter wasn’t dangerous.
Because he was.
Maybe not in the way Barty or Rosier were, with their reckless violence and need for control. But in a quieter, more insidious way.
Because Nate didn’t need force to get inside people’s heads.
He just needed time.
And Regulus was starting to think he’d given him too much of it.
Regulus leaned against the window of his apartment, staring out at the city lights. The whiskey glass in his hand was half-empty, but he wasn’t drinking anymore. His mind was too loud.
He should have known better.
Should have never let it get this far.
But something about Nate was… different.
And that was what made him dangerous.
A knock at the door.
Regulus set down his glass and exhaled slowly. He already knew who it was.
He opened the door to find Nate standing there, hands in his pockets, eyes unreadable.
They stared at each other for a long moment.
“You lost?” Regulus asked, voice low.
Nate huffed a quiet laugh. “Depends. Would you help me find my way?”
Regulus tilted his head. He should have rolled his eyes. Should have said something sharp, something dismissive.
But instead, he stepped back.
And let him in.
Third mistake.
Regulus had always been good at knowing when someone was lying.
And yet, as he watched Nate settle onto the couch, something nagged at him.
Like he was missing a piece of the puzzle.
Because if Nate Carter was lying about something, he was too good at it.
And that?
That was what scared him the most.
Because for the first time in years—maybe ever—Regulus wasn’t sure if he was playing the game.
Or if he was the one being played
And worst of all?
He wasn’t sure if he wanted to stop.