Chapter 2

Lucian's POV I tossed back the drink in one go, the burn searing down my throat. My face twisted in irritation. How dare she? Did she really think a single phone call was enough to erase five years of silence? That she could just waltz back into my life as if nothing had happened? I scoffed under my breath. "One more," I muttered, slamming the empty glass onto the counter. The bartender wordlessly refilled it, the amber liquid swirling under the dim bar lights. I stared at it, my mind circling back to the conversation that had ruined my entire day. Five years. Five years of nothing. Not a single message, ornot a single call. She had disappeared like I never existed, like we had never meant anything. And then today—out of nowhere—she called. "I'm back… I want us to start over." I clenched my jaw, gripping the glass tighter before taking a long swig. The alcohol burned, but it was nothing compared to the fire raging inside me. What did she expect? That I'd welcome her back with open arms? That I'd forget the years of emptiness, the nights spent wondering what I did wrong? I let out a bitter chuckle, shaking my head. She was too late. Too damn late. Judy. Her name had been buried deep, locked away in a part of me I had long since abandoned—just like she had abandoned me. But that one damn phone call had dragged everything back into the light, ripping open wounds I thought had healed. Three years of love, of dreams, and of chasing the wind together. She had been my partner, my rock, the one who had stood by me when I chased my dream to become a racer, fighting against my family's expectations. She had fueled my passion, cheered me on as I sped across the tracks, and pushed me to defy every limit. And then—one accident. One moment of weakness. That was all it took for her to walk away. I had been broken, lost in a darkness so deep that I almost didn't come back from it. My body had ached, but it was nothing compared to the pain of her betrayal. I had locked myself away, drowning in my own despair, refusing to move on. Until my grandfather intervened, urging me to shift my focus toward a career in the medical field. Coming from a family of esteemed doctors, he had always hoped I would follow in their footsteps and build a respectable career as a physician. If not for Judy, I wouldn't have committed myself so wholeheartedly to this profession. Now, my purpose was to serve and care for others. The past was already behind me, and I had moved on. The racetrack, the bike, and Judy were no longer part of my life. But her phone call brought back everything I had nearly forgotten. The bitterness still lingered in my mind. I sneered, shaking my head as I reached for another drink. "One scotch." The soft, feminine voice beside me pulled me out of my thoughts. I turned my head slightly and peered at the woman. My body tensed as I saw the familiar figure. It's her! A surge of recognition shot through me like a jolt of electricity. Memories—buried under years of pain and disappointment—came rushing back. She had been the one who saved me that night, the one who had rushed to my side, tending to my wounds while I lay broken on the cold asphalt. She had called the ambulance. She had given me hope in that desperate moment. I had tried to find her after I was discharged. But she had disappeared, like a fleeting shadow. Then came Judy's betrayal, the suffocating weight of depression, and the struggle to rebuild my life. In the mess of it all, I had almost forgotten about her. But now, here she was, sitting right next to me. Her presence sent a strange excitement coursing through my veins, but that thrill was quickly dampened by what I saw. She looked… lost. The way she tossed back her drink in one breath, the glimmer of unshed tears in her eyes, the barely concealed pain in her expression—it struck something deep inside me. She wasn't just drinking to enjoy the night. She was drowning in something heavy, something that weighed on her soul. A sharp pang of concern twisted in my chest. I didn't know her, not really, but I knew what it was like to sit at a bar and drink away the demons. I knew what it felt like to be trapped in a storm with no way out. And I couldn't just sit here and watch her sink. When she reached for another glass, I acted before I could think. "Easy, beautiful." She paused, her fingers hovering over the drink as she slowly turned to look at me. And just like that, the past and present collided. She looked at me—just looked—her gaze locking onto mine, deep and unreadable. A flicker of something crossed her eyes, something raw and unguarded. Awe, maybe. Or something even more intense. Whatever it was, it made my pulse hammer in my chest. She was beautiful—more than I had ever imagined. But there was pain too, dark and heavy, like an eclipse swallowing the full moon. It clung to her, dimming her radiance. And I hated it. Who had hurt her like this? The thought only made me want to protect her. "Why are you drinking alone?" I asked. "Because I'm heartbroken. I want to numb the pain." She lifted the glass to her lips, but before she could take another sip, I reached out and caught her wrist, stopping her. So she is heartbroken, I murmured to myself. Maybe she had also experienced a terrible relationship. Her condition wasn't different from mine. Who else could understand her more than I did? I had also gone through heartbreak and depression. But I wouldn't let her fall into that abyss alone. "The alcohol can never numb the pain," I said, gently prying the glass from her fingers. "If you want, you can talk to me." My intention was to help her, to pull her back from whatever edge she was teetering on. But what she said next took my breath away. "Kiss me," she demanded, leaning over to me. Her eyes locked onto mine, burning with an intensity that stole my breath. As I gazed into her eyes, something inside me snapped. A fire I had long thought extinguished roared back to life, consuming me whole. For the past five years, countless women had tried to capture my attention, but none had succeeded. I had kept my distance, burying my desires beneath layers of indifference. But with her, all those walls crumbled in an instant. Before I could second-guess myself, I closed the gap between us, crashing my lips against hers. She is sweet, my mind whispered. The taste of whiskey lingered on her lips, intoxicating and addictive. A groan rumbled deep in my chest as I pulled her closer, pressing her against me. The kiss deepened, raw and unrestrained, my hands threading through her hair as I claimed her. Kissing her ignited the same rush I had once felt on the racetrack, the same electrifying thrill that had once defined me. And just like racing, I knew I could never walk away from this feeling, from her. That's it. She'd be mine, I vowed silently. And I wasn't letting go.