Connection | 18+

ETHAN:

   I let the door close behind me, the echo of Olivia's sharp inhale lingering in the silence, and slip a few bills into the nurse's hand, a silent agreement for her to keep an eye on Olivia and let me know if she causes any trouble.

   With that handled, I stride out of the hospital and pull out my phone, dialing one of the men who’s been making sure that Josh is safe since he started his residency in this hospital.

   After Owens picks up, I instruct him to meet me outside and hang up. I don’t have the patience to go over this on the phone. Today’s already been a test, and there’s a lot to address that can’t be left to chance—or misinterpreted.

   I step to the edge of the sidewalk, watching cars stream by, the steady hum of the city filling the silence as I wait for him.

   The sun dips low, casting orange and pink hues across the horizon, painting the sky in soft strokes that seem almost out of place against the city’s rough edges. The colors wash over the buildings, momentarily softening their harsh lines, but the effect is fleeting.

   I turn my attention back to the street, my focus sharpening as the last light fades, the warmth of the sunset a stark contrast to the chill settling in the pit of my stomach.

   The contrast between them reminds me of Olivia as my mind goes back to her.

   I hadn’t planned to tell her that—certainly not in so many words. But something in her eyes, that fire laced with fear, drew it out of me. It unsettles me, this...distraction. I can’t afford any weaknesses, and here she is, pulling at the edges of my self-control, unraveling it thread by thread.

   If she's rattled by what I said, good. Let her dwell on it, let it burn a place in her mind. But what gnaws at me is how much I enjoyed seeing her stunned silence, the way her bravado dissolved in that final second.

   It speaks to me in a way that no other person has ever done. Seeing her, out of her element and so distorted in that room is the most fun I've ever had...in forever.

   But it isn’t just about me having fun... She amuses me in a way that I can't decipher.

   There’s something else, something that borders on fascination. She’s a mess of contradictions, pushing me away with one hand while clawing her way back with the other. That defiance and bitterness wrapped around something… vulnerable, something hidden even from her. And that makes her more dangerous—because I don’t fully understand what it is about her that holds my interest. I just know she does.

   And I hate that. I hate not knowing what she is doing to me. I hate losing control.

   She's a ticking time bomb, and I have no idea when—or if—she’ll finally explode.

   And I hate not knowing.

   She’s playing a game, thinking she’s in control. But I see the cracks, and the deeper I look, the more they spread. Maybe that’s why I’m helping her, maybe it’s why I can’t seem to walk away. Whatever it is, I know I’ll uncover it, slowly, piece by piece, until there’s nothing left for her to hide behind.

   She’ll fight this, claw her way out of whatever box she thinks I’ve put her in. But all she’s doing is wrapping herself tighter, struggling against her own bindings, and I can’t deny there’s satisfaction in watching her. Satisfaction… and maybe something else, some echo of emotion I don’t care to name.

   This is control.

   I remind myself of that fact as I push away the pull she has on me, that almost instinctive desire to see her break further. And yet, it’s like there’s a part of me waiting—just waiting—for her to turn that defiance toward me, to finally give up this game she thinks she’s winning.