Danger ⚠️

Orm should have felt relieved. Should have been focused on the success of her upcoming movie, the press tour, the career she had built with everything she had.

But all she could think about was Ling.

Still no answer.
Still no text.
Still nothing.

Her fingers clenched around her phone as she walked out of the meeting room, her pulse hammering in her ears. Something was wrong—she knew it. Ling never ignored her calls. Not after everything that had happened.

And the last time she didn’t answer, Orm almost lost her.

A cold fear curled in her stomach, tightening around her ribs like a vice.

As she stepped into the hallway, her eyes landed on Mae Koy. Her mother stood waiting, arms crossed, her expression unreadable. But the second Orm saw her face, the unease in her chest exploded.

Orm’s steps slowed. “Mae?”

Mae looked at her for a long moment before speaking.

“I just got off the phone with Ling’s mother.”

Orm’s stomach dropped.

Mae’s voice was too calm. Too steady. Like she was choosing her words carefully. Like she was bracing for impact.

Orm’s body locked up.

Then—

“She’s in the hospital with her brother.”

The world tilted.

No.

No, no, no—please, not again.

Her fingers dug into her phone as her breath hitched, her vision narrowing in on her mother’s face, waiting for her to take it back.

Before she could fully process it, Mae continued, her tone firm but gentle. “Niran was nearly beaten to death. Ling was attacked too, but she fought back. She’s in better shape than him.” She hesitated. “I talked to her earlier.”

Orm’s entire body went cold.

Something inside her snapped.

Ling.
Hurt.
Hospital.

She barely registered Mae’s hand reaching for her, barely registered her own breath turning shallow. The only thing running through her mind was get to her.

Then something clicked.

“She called you?” Orm’s voice came out hoarse, disbelieving.

Mae sighed. “I called her first.”

Orm blinked, her breath catching.

“Since she wasn’t answering you, I was worried too,” Mae admitted.

Orm’s jaw clenched. “Then why—why the hell didn’t she answer me?” Her voice wavered, caught between anger and something far more fragile. “Why is she still shutting me out?”

Mae exhaled, her voice softer now. “You know why.”

Orm shook her head, a bitter laugh escaping. “No, I don’t know, Mae. She’s in the hospital, and she still won’t call me?” Her pulse was racing, her chest too tight, too full of something she couldn’t contain. “I need to see her.”

She didn’t care what Ling’s reasoning was. Didn’t care that Ling was trying to protect her.

All she knew was that Ling was hurt. And Orm needed to be there, nobody will stop her.

________________

The beeping of the heart monitor filled the space, a rhythmic reminder that Niran was okay. Ling sat beside him, her fingers idly rubbing at the fabric of the hospital blanket. The exhaustion was settling in now, the post-adrenaline crash hitting her hard. Every muscle in her body ached, her sprained arm pulsing with a dull throb, and the bruise on her cheek still stung with every slight movement.

But she was fine. Compared to Niran, who was stuck in this damn hospital bed, covered in bruises, she was fine.

Still, that didn’t stop the tightness in her chest as she watched him grin at her like they hadn’t just been inches from death.

“You look awful,” he teased, his voice still scratchy from the meds.

Ling snorted. “Says the guy who got used as a punching bag.”

Niran groaned, shifting slightly before freezing with a sharp wince. “Damn. Feels like I got hit by a truck.”

Ling smirked, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Close enough.”

He exhaled, running a hand through his hair while looking a before turning his attention fully to her. “So… where’s Orm?”

Ling tensed. She knew he was going to ask that.

She swallowed, keeping her eyes on the blanket in her lap. “She’s not here.”

Niran gave her a long, unimpressed look. “Yeah, no shit, Ling. But why isn’t she here?”

Ling clenched her jaw, her grip tightening on the blanket. “Because I didn’t call her.”

Niran blinked. Then blinked again. And then he let out a loud, exaggerated groan.

“Ling. What the actual hell?”

She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Niran, please—”

“No, you please,” he cut in, shaking his head. “You love her. She loves you. And you—for some insane reason—are still pulling this ‘I need to protect Orm by shutting her out’ bullshit?”

Ling swallowed hard, looking away.

Niran scoffed. “God, you’re actually an idiot.”

Ling glared at him. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” He pointed at her, wincing slightly at the movement. “Do you have any idea what she’s probably doing right now? Freaking out, calling you a hundred times, thinking the worst, losing her damn mind because she knows something is wrong and you’re not answering her.”

Ling stayed silent.

“And to make things worse,” he added, “you let Mae be the one to tell her? Are you trying to make her mad?”

Ling groaned, pressing her fingers to her temples.

Because—yeah. That was probably the worst part.

Orm was already overprotective without being kept in the dark. Now? Oh, she was definitely going to be pissed.

“I thought… I thought maybe if I didn’t tell her, she wouldn’t get involved,” Ling admitted quietly.

Niran stared at her like she had just grown another head. “Are you listening to yourself? Ling, Orm is already involved. She was involved the moment she fell in love with you.”

Ling’s breath hitched, he didn’t know how much that statement was true.

Niran’s expression softened slightly. “And you were involved the moment you fell in love with her.”

Ling squeezed her eyes shut for a second. Because he was right. He had always been right.

And now, she was going to have to face the consequences of it. And face Orm too, because she knew that Mae won’t be a strong barrier 

_________________

The dim lighting of Thanom Ratchada’s office cast long, sinister shadows against the sleek, polished wood of his desk. A glass of whiskey sat untouched beside a stack of neatly arranged papers—papers detailing his next move. His fingers tapped rhythmically against the desk as he listened to the ringing on the other end of the phone.

One. Two. Three.

A click.

A voice, low and wary. “Sir.”

Thanom’s lips curled into a cold smirk. “How interesting it is that I had to call you first.”

A pause. The kind of pause that came from someone who knew they had already lost control of the conversation. “I—”

Thanom cut him off. “Tell me, Chief Prawit… do you enjoy having a job?”

The breath on the other end was sharp. “Sir, I don’t—”

“You don’t?” Thanom laughed, a slow, calculated sound. “Because I would assume that someone who enjoys their position, someone who benefits from my generosity, would not be so careless as to let my name get dragged into this pathetic case.”

Silence. Thanom’s grip tightened around his phone, his jaw ticking as his patience began to wear thin.

“You disappoint me,” he continued, voice dropping into something darker. “After everything I have done for you—after everything I pay you to do—you let those incompetent officers bring my name into a fucking investigation?” His voice was laced with disgust. “What exactly do I pay you for, Prawit?”

“Sir, I had no control over the leak. It—it must have come from someone outside the unit—”

Thanom exhaled sharply, his patience hanging by a thread. “I don’t care how it happened. I care about how you will fix it.”

Another tense silence. Then, a careful, reluctant, “I understand, sir.”

Thanom leaned back in his chair, his free hand gripping the armrest. “Good. Then let me make myself perfectly clear.” His voice was smooth, sharp—deadly. “This case? This problem you seem so eager to solve?” He paused, letting the weight of his words settle. “It does not get solved.”

A breath hitched on the other end of the line.

“You will delay every lead,” Thanom continued, his tone eerily calm. “Every piece of evidence. Every witness. You will make sure nothing—nothing—gets anywhere close to me. Do you understand?”

“Sir—”

“Do you understand?” Thanom repeated, his voice like ice.

“…Yes, sir.”

Thanom smiled, satisfied. “Good.” He leaned forward, lowering his voice to something almost conversational. “Because, Chief… I have connections everywhere. You know that. And I would hate to see your family caught in a nasty little scandal that ruins your reputation. Your son is in law school, isn’t he?”

The Chief’s breathing grew heavier. “Sir—”

“Imagine if his education were suddenly… compromised.” Thanom’s smirk deepened. “Or your wife’s hospital funding mysteriously vanished.” He sighed, feigning sympathy. “Would be such a shame, wouldn’t it?”

A beat of silence. Then—

“…What do you want me to do?”

Thanom’s fingers drummed against the desk, his smile turning into something sharper, something cruel.

“The Lingling Kwong case will remain open,” he murmured. “It will be treated like any other celebrity scandal—an unfortunate event with no solid leads. Any potential breakthroughs?” He chuckled. “They disappear.”

“…And if someone pushes too hard?”

Thanom’s smile didn’t falter.

“They won’t.”

The Chief hesitated. “…And what about Lingling Kwong herself?”

Thanom’s eyes darkened, his grip on the phone tightening.

“She’s not my problem anymore.” He leaned back, exhaling slowly. “She won’t be breathing by the end of this week.”

Another long pause.

“…Understood, sir.”

Thanom smiled. “Good.” And with that, he ended the call. The room fell into silence.

Thanom leaned forward, picking up his glass of whiskey, swirling the liquid as he stared at the city skyline beyond his window.

Lingling Kwong was running out of time.

And Orm Kornnaphat?

She would finally be his.

_________

Orm walked briskly through the hospital corridors, her mind racing with one singular thought—getting to Ling. Every step felt too slow, every second that passed was another where she wasn’t by Ling’s side, wasn’t able to see for herself that she was okay.

Her phone was still gripped in her hand, her fingers white-knuckled around it. She had been staring at the unanswered calls and texts for hours now, and even though Mae had reassured her, even though Ling’s mother had confirmed she was alright—Orm needed to see her.

The elevator doors slid open on her floor, and she stepped out, adjusting the strap of her bag on her shoulder. She barely glanced at the nurses passing by, her focus straight ahead toward Ling’s room.

And then—

A familiar figure caught her eye.

Thanom Ratchada. Orm’s brows furrowed slightly as she slowed her steps.

He was standing near the nurse’s station, speaking in a low voice to one of the hospital staff. Dressed in a crisp, expensive-looking suit, he looked out of place in the otherwise clinical setting. The woman he was talking to nodded politely before walking away, leaving Thanom to glance down at his phone.

Orm almost walked past him without saying anything. Almost.

But then Thanom lifted his gaze and noticed her.

His lips curled into a practiced smile. “Orm Kornnaphat.”

Orm blinked, momentarily thrown off by his presence here. They had met before—several times at galas, industry parties, events where men like Thanom thrived. He was powerful, rich, always surrounded by business elites, and someone who had once expressed interest in her in a way that had made her politely decline.

She hadn’t thought about him much since. But now, seeing him in a hospital of all places? It was strange. And she never understood wy Ling hated him, he was known to be a nice guy.

“Mr. Thanom,” she greeted neutrally, slowing to a stop a few feet away. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

Thanom gave a light chuckle, slipping his phone into his pocket. “Yes, well, hospitals are such interesting places, aren’t they? Never know who you’ll run into.”

Orm tilted her head slightly, the way he said it rubbing her the wrong way.

“What brings you here?” she asked, her tone polite but distant.

Thanom exhaled as if amused by the question. “Visiting an old friend. He’s been under the weather lately, so I thought I’d check in on him.” He adjusted his cufflinks. “And you?”

Orm hesitated briefly before answering, “Personal reasons.”

Thanom hummed knowingly, though there was no real reason for him to.

Orm didn’t like this conversation. She didn’t like the way he was looking at her, as if he knew something she didn’t. But she shook the thought away—she was being paranoid. She was just in a hurry to see Ling, that was all.

“Well,” she said, stepping slightly to the side, “I hope your friend recovers soon.”

Thanom’s smile widened, though there was something unreadable in his eyes. “That’s kind of you, Orm. You’ve always been very… compassionate. Take care of her”

Orm felt an odd discomfort creep up her spine and froze at the mention of her. She never mentioned anyone specific.

She didn’t know why. But something was off. Maybe it was the way he was standing there so relaxed, so at ease, as if they were chatting at a high-end event rather than a hospital. Maybe it was the fact that she hadn’t even thought about him in years, yet here he was, acting as if they were old acquaintances catching up.

Or maybe—maybe it was just the fact that she had more important things on her mind than whatever weird energy Thanom was giving off.

She nodded politely. “Well, I should get going.”

Thanom dipped his head slightly. “Of course. Don’t let me keep you.”

Orm gave him one last glance before walking past him, shaking off the unease and pushing the encounter out of her mind.

Right now, only one thing mattered.

Seeing Ling.

Her pulse was a deafening roar in her ears as she reached the right floor, her breath shallow, chest tight.

Then she saw her. Ling.

Sitting in a hospital chair beside Niran’s bed, exhaustion weighing on her entire body.

Orm froze in the doorway. Ling hadn’t seen her yet, her gaze fixed on Niran, fingers curled into the fabric of the blanket draped over him.

Orm barely registered the sharp inhale that left her lips. Ling turned at the sound.

The second their eyes met, everything else disappeared. Ling’s face changed—like she had just been caught in something she wasn’t ready to face.

Orm stepped inside. Her hands were clenched at her sides, her breathing unsteady. “You didn’t tell me.”

Ling swallowed. “Orm—”

“You didn’t call me.”

Orm’s voice trembled, raw and exposed, barely above a whisper yet carrying the full weight of her breaking heart.

Ling flinched, her fingers tightening around the edge of the hospital blanket. She had expected this reaction. Expected Orm to be upset. But hearing it—feeling it—was something else entirely.

“You were in the hospital,” Orm continued, her breath ragged. “You almost—” She stopped herself, exhaling sharply, trying to control the ache constricting her chest.

Ling looked away, guilt flashing in her dark eyes. “I didn’t want you to drop everything, Orm. You had your meeting, and—”

She barely got the words out before Orm’s gaze flicked to the side, momentarily landing on Niran.

He was watching them with a ridiculous amount of interest, clearly enjoying the show despite his injuries. He looked like a kid watching his favorite drama unfold.

Orm’s lips twitched, despite herself. “Glad you’re okay, Niran.”

“Glad you finally showed up,” he replied, smirking.

But the humor vanished the second Orm turned back to Ling, her expression darkening.

“Are you serious?” Her voice rose, no longer trying to conceal the storm inside her. “Ling, you were attacked. Niran was nearly—” She stopped, shaking her head, a sharp breath leaving her lungs as she ran a hand through her hair. “And you didn’t tell me?”

Ling swallowed hard, her jaw tightening. “I didn’t want you to blame yourself.”

Orm froze. The hospital room, the steady beeping of Niran’s monitor, the distant chatter of nurses—it all faded into the background.

Blame herself?

Something cold slithered down her spine, her mind catching onto those words like claws digging into raw flesh.

Ling exhaled shakily. “Because I know you, Orm. The second you found out it was Thanom, you’d think it’s your fault.”

Silence. It hit like a physical blow, knocking the air from Orm’s lungs.

Thanom.

Ratchada.

Her ears rang. The walls seemed to close in.

The name twisted inside her chest like a knife, slow and agonizing.

Ling saw it—saw the shift in her expression, the way Orm’s body locked up, hands trembling with something volatile, something dangerous.

But Orm barely heard her. Because in that moment, everything fell into place.

The strange messages. The threats. The accident. The men who had broken into Ling’s apartment.

It wasn’t random. It was never random.

It was him. Thanom Ratchada.

The same man who had followed her career with unsettling interest for years.

The same man who had made his advances at a gala once, arrogant and sure of himself, like she was something to be acquired.

The same man she had politely but firmly rejected—because she had always known, deep in her gut, that there was something wrong with him.

But she hadn’t known he would go this far. That he would fixate. That he would want to eliminate Ling.

A slow, burning rage crawled up her spine, spreading through her veins like wildfire.

Ling watched her carefully, reading the storm building behind her eyes. “Orm.”

Her voice was quiet. Gentle. But Orm wasn’t listening.

She was already reaching for her phone, her fingers curling around it so tightly they turned white.

She wasn’t waiting anymore. She wasn’t hiding anymore.

This was war. And Thanom Ratchada was about to learn exactly what it meant to cross her.

Orm stormed out of the hospital room, her breath coming in sharp, uneven bursts. Her fingers trembled as she clutched her phone, but she didn’t hesitate. Not this time.

She scrolled down her contacts, past Mae, past her manager, past the long list of industry names—until she found it.

Dad.

Her thumb hovered for a split second.

Orm rarely called him for help. She hated asking for favors, hated feeling like she couldn’t handle things on her own. But this? This was beyond her.

She hit the call button. The line barely rang twice before her father’s deep voice answered, steady as ever.

“Orm.”

Just her name. No questions, no pleasantries. He already knew.

Orm’s grip on her phone tightened. “I need your help.”

There was a brief pause, a measured silence. Then—

“I’m already on it.”

Orm exhaled, a mix of relief and frustration twisting in her chest. Of course, he was.

She swallowed, forcing herself to steady her voice. “How much do you know?”

Her father sighed. “More than you, I’m afraid. I’ve been watching Thanom for a while now.”

A cold chill spread through Orm’s veins. “And you didn’t tell me?”

“Because I didn’t think it would come to this.” There was no anger in his voice, just quiet regret. “I knew he had an interest in you, but I never imagined he would turn his attention to Ling. That was my mistake, I should have anticipated.”

Orm clenched her jaw, pacing the empty hallway. “Then you know what he’s done. The accident. The threats. The attack on Ling’s apartment.”

“I do.” His voice darkened, losing some of its usual calm. “And trust me when I say this, Orm—Thanom Ratchada is a very dangerous man. More than his polished reputation lets on.”

Orm swallowed the lump in her throat. “What do we do?”

A pause. Then—

“YOU my sweet lady do absolutely nothing.”

Her father’s voice was firm, leaving no room for argument. “Thanom has connections everywhere. The police, the media, even government officials. If we make one wrong move, he’ll turn this on you, on Ling, on all of us. He will not hesitate to bury you both under legal battles and fabricated scandals.”

Orm’s fists curled. “I don’t care. He nearly killed her.”

“I know.” A sharp exhale. “That’s why I’m handling it. But Orm, you need to be careful. Don’t confront him directly. Don’t make yourself a target. It is not a problem of today, he has been threatening her for a while ,now”

Orm let out a bitter laugh. “What do you mean? For a while?”

Her father was silent for a moment. Then, softer—

“I know you love her but I can’t tell you much now.”

Orm stilled. She had never told him. Never once said the words out loud to him, to anyone outside her closest circle. She didn’t want to push either, she will ask Ling.

But he knew.She closed her eyes briefly, her grip on the phone tightening. “Then you know why I can’t sit back and do nothing.”

“You don’t have to.” His voice was steady. “Just trust me to do my part. And promise me you’ll be careful.”

Orm hesitated, anger still burning under her skin, but she knew her father. Knew his influence. If anyone could fight Thanom at his level, it was him.

She took a slow breath. “Alright. But if anything happens—”

“You’ll be the first to know.”

Orm nodded, exhaling shakily. “Thank you, Dad.”

A pause. Then—“Be careful Orm.”

Her heart clenched.

“I will Dad thank you.”

She ended the call, shoving her phone into her pocket. Her father was right—Thanom was dangerous. But Orm wasn’t about to step aside and let him win.

Not when Ling was still in danger. Not when she had almost lost her once.

Orm turned on her heel and headed back to the hospital room, her mind set.

If Thanom Ratchada wanted a war—he just got one.

Ling stood just outside Niran’s hospital room, arms wrapped around herself, waiting.

Her stomach was twisted in knots, her nerves frayed at the edges. Orm had left the room in a storm, her eyes burning with fury that Ling had only seen a handful of times—and every single time, it had been for her.

She knew Orm. Knew the way she carried everything on her shoulders, knew the way she burned with love so fiercely it could consume her.

And right now, Orm was planning something.

Something dangerous.

Ling exhaled sharply, fingers curling against the sleeve of her hospital gown. The hallway was quiet, save for the distant beeping of heart monitors from other rooms. She wanted to give Orm space—wanted to believe that she’d come back and talk this through rationally.

But she also knew that wasn’t how Orm worked when someone she loved was in danger.

When she finally saw Orm striding back toward her, something in Ling’s chest loosened, then tightened all over again.

Orm’s face was unreadable—set in stone, her eyes dark and stormy. But the moment her gaze landed on Ling, everything in her shifted.

The anger, the tension, the fury—none of it mattered anymore.

She saw Ling. And she saw the damage. Orm stopped in front of her, her breath uneven, her eyes scanning Ling’s face like she was memorizing every bruise, every injury.

The swollen cheek, the faint discoloration blooming under Ling’s eye, the stiffness in her stance.

Then her gaze flicked downward.

Ling’s right arm, wrapped in a brace.

Orm’s lips parted, a barely-there inhale, her fingers twitching like she wanted to reach out but didn’t know if she should.

Ling swallowed. “I’m okay.”

Orm didn’t look convinced.

Her hand lifted—hesitant at first—before she cupped Ling’s jaw as gently as she could, her thumb barely grazing the bruise on her cheek.

Ling’s breath hitched, not from pain, but from the sheer tenderness in Orm’s touch.

Her eyes flickered up, meeting Orm’s gaze. “Orm—”

“You didn’t tell me,” Orm said quietly, her voice trembling, her thumb tracing over Ling’s cheekbone, careful, deliberate. “You called Mae, but not me.”

Ling exhaled slowly, her good hand lifting to cover Orm’s at her jaw. “I didn’t want you to blame yourself.”

Orm let out a humorless laugh, her fingers tightening just slightly. “Ling, I will always blame myself if something happens to you.”

Ling shook her head. “That’s exactly why I didn’t tell you.”

Orm’s throat bobbed, her jaw tightening.

She dropped her hand from Ling’s face, but instead of letting go, she gently took Ling’s injured arm, her fingers ghosting over the brace, her touch feather-light but filled with restraint.

“How bad?” Orm asked, her voice lower now, controlled.

Ling sighed. “Just a sprain. The doctor said it’ll heal in a few weeks.”

Orm’s gaze darkened again, her thumb brushing against the edge of the brace like she was trying to absorb the pain herself.

Ling knew that look.

She stepped closer, lowering her voice. “Orm, whatever you’re thinking of doing… don’t.”

Orm’s grip on her arm tensed for a split second before she let go.

“I already made my choice,” she murmured.

Ling’s heart clenched. “You talked to your father.”

Orm didn’t answer right away, but the way her gaze flickered told Ling everything.

Ling took a deep breath. “Orm, Thanom isn’t just some businessman. He’s powerful. Dangerous. He has connections in places we don’t even know about.”

Orm’s jaw tightened. “I don’t care.”

Ling sighed, rubbing her temple with her good hand. “That’s exactly what I was afraid of.”

Orm exhaled sharply, stepping even closer, their foreheads almost touching. “And you really thought keeping this from me would change anything?”

Ling swallowed. “I thought it might protect you.”

Orm let out a breath, shaking her head, her hands finding Ling’s waist, grounding herself. “We’re past that, baby. You should know by now—I don’t want protection. I just want you safe.”

Ling looked into her eyes, her heart pounding, her fingers gripping onto Orm’s hoodie. “Then don’t do something reckless.”

Orm smirked, though it was faint, barely there. “No promises.”

Ling groaned, resting her forehead against Orm’s. “You’re impossible.”

Orm hummed, her grip on Ling’s waist tightening. “And you love me.”

Ling let out a breathy laugh. “Yeah. I do.”

Orm closed her eyes for a moment, breathing her in, grounding herself in the fact that Ling was here, alive, in her arms.

But in the back of her mind, the war wasn’t over.

Thanom had made a mistake. And Orm was going to make sure it was his last.

Orm exhaled sharply, stepping even closer, their foreheads almost touching. “And you really thought keeping this from me would change anything?”

Ling swallowed. “I thought it might protect you.”

Orm let out a humorless laugh, stepping back just slightly, just enough to properly look Ling in the eyes. The fire in them was unmistakable.

“Protect me?” Orm repeated, her voice rising slightly. “Ling, do you have any idea how stupid that sounds?”

Ling tensed, her fingers curling against Orm’s hoodie, bracing herself. “I—”

“No, you listen to me,” Orm cut in, her voice tight, controlled—but barely. “I just spoke to my father, and guess what I found out?” Her jaw clenched. “Thanom has been threatening you for months.”

Ling stilled.

Orm watched her reaction closely, saw the flicker of something in Ling’s eyes—the briefest moment of recognition. And that was all it took for the truth to settle deep in Orm’s chest like lead.

She gritted her teeth. “You knew.”

Ling hesitated. “Orm—”

“You knew.” Orm pulled back completely now, running both hands through her hair, turning away for a second like she needed to physically contain her frustration. “Jesus, Ling! How long? How long have you been keeping this from me?”

Ling’s throat felt dry, her heart hammering. “I— I didn’t want you to worry— And I thought that –”

“Worry?” Orm whipped back around, her expression a mix of anger, hurt, and something dangerously close to betrayal. “Are you serious right now?” She scoffed, shaking her head. “You let this man stalk you, threaten you, control you with fear, and you didn’t think I should know? Is he one of the reason you never told me about your feelings?”

Ling flinched but held her ground. “I thought—” She stopped herself, voice faltering before forcing herself to continue. “Yes… I thought he might kill you… So –”

“I can’t believe this” Orm shot back. Her voice wasn’t loud, but it was sharp, cutting through the space between them like a blade. “Because instead of stopping, he nearly had you killed.”

Ling clenched her fists, exhaling sharply. “You think I don’t know that?” she snapped. “You think I don’t hate myself for letting it get this far? For putting you in danger because I am in love with you?”

Orm’s breath hitched at the raw emotion in Ling’s voice. She saw the way her chest rose and fell with each breath, the way her fingers trembled at her sides.

Ling wasn’t just saying this. She was breaking apart.

Ling swallowed hard, lowering her voice. “I thought I was handling it. I thought if I just ignored him, I could make him irrelevant.” She shook her head, her voice dropping to something barely above a whisper. “But I was wrong.”

Orm stared at her, taking in every detail—the bruises, the sprained arm, the exhaustion lining her eyes.

And suddenly, all the anger drained from her. Because Ling wasn’t just keeping things from her out of stubbornness.

She was scared.

Orm let out a slow breath, stepping forward again, her fingers reaching up to cup Ling’s face, gentler now, her thumb tracing the edge of the bruise on her cheek.

“I get it,” she murmured. “I really do.”

Ling’s lips parted slightly, her breath uneven. “Orm…”

“But you don’t get to keep me in the dark, baby,” Orm continued, her tone softer now but no less firm. “Not about this. Not when it’s about your life.”

Ling swallowed, closing her eyes briefly before nodding.

Orm’s hands slid down, wrapping carefully around Ling’s waist, holding her in place. “Thanom doesn’t get to decide anything for you anymore. He doesn’t get to win. You have me, and this will never change”

Ling exhaled shakily, resting her forehead against Orm’s. “I know.”

“Good.” Orm’s grip tightened just slightly, her warmth seeping into Ling like an anchor. “Because I’m going to end this. We are going to end this.”

Ling opened her eyes, searching Orm’s face, worry creeping back into her expression. “Orm, I need you to be careful.”

Orm smirked, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “You need me? That’s new.”

Ling rolled her eyes but squeezed her waist. “I’m serious, Orm. He’s not just some creep lurking in the shadows. He’s powerful. He has people in high places. He—”

“I know,” Orm cut in gently. “My father warned me.”

Ling’s breath caught.

Orm nodded. “He told me to be careful. But I don’t care how powerful Thanom thinks he is—he made a mistake.”

Ling exhaled slowly. “Which is?”

Orm’s grip on her waist tightened, her eyes dark with something dangerous.

“He thought he could touch you,” Orm said, her voice like steel. “He thought he could hurt you and get away with it.” She leaned in just a little closer, her breath warm against Ling’s skin. “He has no idea who he’s dealing with.”

Ling held her gaze, a shiver running down her spine at the quiet rage in Orm’s voice.

And for the first time in days, she felt something other than fear. She felt safe.