Chapter 1
Frank Castle wasn’t sure why he was doing this.
Moving to Hell’s Kitchen had been an impulse decision. His family was gone—murdered. His old life, his identity as a Marine, had vanished along with them. He could have left the city entirely, started over somewhere quiet where no one knew his name. Instead, he ended up in a run-down apartment building, staring at water-stained ceilings and pretending he wasn’t coming apart at the seams.
At first, he told himself it was just about survival. He needed a place to sleep. Needed to eat. Needed to not put a bullet in his own head. That was all.
And then there was his neighbor.
Matt Murdock.
Frank had noticed him the first day he moved in. He’d been dragging his sorry excuse for a mattress up the stairs when he saw the guy standing outside his own door, fumbling for his keys. The white cane was the first clue, but it was the way he carried himself that caught Frank’s attention. Matt was blind, sure, but he had this effortless confidence, like he knew exactly where he was at all times.
And he was hot.
Not that Frank cared about that.
Okay, maybe he cared a little.
But that didn’t mean anything.
It was just… Matt had this way of tilting his head when he listened, like he was really paying attention. And his voice—smooth, warm, the kind that could make you forget the world was a miserable, broken place. The first time Matt had smiled at him, Frank had felt something stir deep in his chest.
It wasn’t attraction.
Definitely not.
It was just—Jesus, the guy was nice. And in Frank’s world, nice people didn’t last long. It made him want to—
He didn’t know.
So instead of figuring that out, Frank did what he did best: something incredibly stupid.
He started wearing a specific cologne.
Nothing fancy, just something subtle and woodsy. Just enough that Matt would recognize him when they were in the elevator together. And maybe Frank cleared his throat a little when he stepped inside, just to make sure Matt knew it was him.
And then, because he was apparently a goddamn idiot, he started fumbling with his keys every time he got home, making sure to try the wrong one first before finding the right one. Just so Matt would hear. Just so he’d know it was Frank next door.
Not that Frank cared if Matt noticed him.
It was just… safety. Yeah. That was it. Matt was blind. He probably felt better knowing exactly who was in the elevator with him or who was moving around in the hallway. Frank was just being… considerate.
He wasn’t gay. Definitely not.
And he definitely did not have a crush on his hot blind neighbor.
That would be ridiculous.
Frank stepped into the elevator, the doors sliding shut behind him. The scent of fresh coffee and old books filled the small space, and then—
“Evening, Frank.”
Shit.
Matt was standing there, hands in the pockets of his jacket, that damn charming smile on his face.
Frank grunted in response. Because that was the normal thing to do. Because he was normal.
Matt tilted his head, smiling like he knew something Frank didn’t. “Rough day?”
Frank swallowed, clearing his throat. “Somethin’ like that.”
“Yeah? You should try sleeping once in a while.”
Frank blinked. “What?”
Matt chuckled. “You’re exhausted. Your heartbeat’s slower than usual, and your breathing’s heavier. You sound like you’ve been running on fumes for days.”
Frank stared.
Matt just kept smiling, like he hadn’t just pulled that information out of thin air.
Frank had no idea what to say to that, so he went with his usual tactic: avoiding the question entirely.
“You, uh… you doin’ okay?”
Matt seemed surprised by the question, but his smile softened. “I am, actually. Thanks for asking.”
Frank nodded, stuffing his hands into his pockets. He could feel the warmth creeping up his neck, the slow burn of embarrassment that he refused to acknowledge.
The elevator dinged.
Matt turned toward the doors. “Well, this is me.”
Frank hesitated, then—“Hey.”
Matt paused, tilting his head.
Frank exhaled. “You… you ever need somethin’, I’m right next door.”
Matt’s smile widened, like he knew exactly how much that had cost Frank to say.
“Thanks, Frank. That means a lot.”
Then he was gone, disappearing down the hall like a ghost.
Frank stood there for a moment, heart pounding way too hard for something as simple as a damn conversation.
Jesus Christ.
He was in trouble.