Desired by All and He Threw Away 81

Chapter 81 

Aiden’s POV 

The shouting hits me before I even reach the gate a tres through the gemeng buy something meant to cut a kid is sobbing hard enough that every busatuskuvers likelys happy 

someone else is yelling over him their voice pitched high and be with aweka had gym the fusefor 

air thin. 

it thuds against the dirt louder than it should be the air tastes strange the moment i skydym s detergent from someone’s laundry still drying on a line the sugary stings a kid’s cong day renge 

under all of it is something metallic like fear has a flavor and everyone here is chewing on it. 

Taylor is on the porch. 

She stands so still I almost don’t recognize her, Pale, Shoulders rigid fingers hooked so tight around the yours railing that her knuckles glow white, 

her little brother presses himself into her side a mess of small shaking shoulders and tear–way checks his hiccups collapse into soft whimpers that no one bothers to hear. 

across from them an older woman in a wide brimmed hat stinks of expensive perfume and outage day potre is tilted forward her hand raised like she is about to conduct an orchestrader mouth twists no something hin 

and cruel. 

“Your brother assaulted my son,” she spits. “And stole his phone!” 

The words slice through the noise so fast the crowd seems to flinch. 

Taylor edges forward palms up her breath shuddering as she tries to build a defense out of scraps 

” he didnt… he wasnt even… your son grabbed him first and Alex was just trying to get away. 

her voice wobbles thinning under the weight of everyone ignoring her the crowd presses in bodies stifling faces leaning closer like theyre waiting for a show to start. 

someone lets out a laugh that cracks in the air sharp as a twig snapping under a boot another neighbor lifts their phone the tiny blue light blinking steady uncaring recording everything except the truth. 

Taylor’s words crumble. Her brother inches closer, knuckles white as he clings to her shirt the older woman draws her arm back again higher this time as if shes practiced this moment more than she should ever admit 

theres a cold twist in my gut because i already know what comes next, violence stops being surprising when people convince themselves they are righteous. 

I move before I think. One step, then another, the world tightening around the are of her arm as it sweeps forward in slow, awful precision. It slices through the air like it already owns the outcome. 

My voice finds its way out, low and edged. 

“That’s enough.” 

+25 Bonus 

Everything stops on its own, like the world finally decides to listen. 

I don’t shout. I don’t have to. The words slide out low and tired, the way you talk when the storm’s already soaked through your clothes. I step forward before anyone else moves and close my hand around her wrist mid swing. 

her skin heats against my palm her pulse kicking fast as if its trying to run without her.a sweet powdery perfume lifts off her drifting between us.she jerks once sharp and offended but i dont let her go. i hold her there. suspended in that thin slice of a moment. 

The noise around us fades in a way that doesn’t feel real. Neighbors go still. the street seems to pull in a breath its quiet in the wrong kind of way the kind that makes your spine tighten. 

her eyes fly wide the confidence she walked in with slipping like a bead of sweat down a glass.something old and fierce beats behind my ears steady as a war drum.it rises through my chest pushes me closer makes the rest of the world blur.danger recognizes danger. 

I step toward it anyway. 

“touch her,” i say soft enough that she has to feel the words more than hear them, “and ill make sure you regret 

it.” 

No theatrics. No volume to hide behind. Just a promise that settles heavy in the air, impossible to pretend away. 

Her chin, the one she lifted to look down on everyone here, trembles.fear cracks through her face like thin ice under weight.she opens her mouth maybe to argue or defend herself but the sound never comes.only a quiet breath escapes shaky and unsure. 

Behind her, the wealthy father stiffens.recognition flashes across his face the second he really looks at me.his eyes widen an inch then another as the truth sinks in: 

they know who i am. 

The gossip. The headlines. The games. The city knows my face, my name, my team. And for once, it works in my 

favor. 

His posture shifts. Shoulders down. Chest sinking. Like the wind has been knocked out of his confidence. He doesn’t step closer. Doesn’t speak up. Just stands there, trapped between pride and fear. 

the woman’s wrist loosens under my hand.she lowers her arm slowly carefully as if any sudden movement might set me off. 

the crowd reacts the way crowds always do when power shifts.they lean back pretend they werent leaning in a moment ago. Phones drop a few inches.whispers curl through the air. 

i let go of her wrist. 

Taylor finally breathes, and it barely counts as sound.more like the whisper a cracked window lets through on a windless night.her fingers loosen from the railing slow and shaky and the metal leaves faint red marks across her skin. 

Her little brother tucks himself harder against her side, nose pressed into her shirt, and I feel the tremor in him ease bit by bit like he’s warming his hands over a dying fire. 

2/3 

Cheaper ar 

+25 Bonus 

Then she looks at me. 

Not the quick flicks of attention she throws my way at camp or at home. Not the sharp, guarded stares she uses when she’s pretending I don’t matter. This one bits different.its raw stripped down like she didnt have time to build a wall before the moment found her. 

Her mouth softens with relief. 

Her eyes light with disbelief. 

As if she can’t figure out how I ended up here, planted between her and a neighborhood full of people who think shouting louder makes them right. 

For a heartbeat, everything pulls back. The arguing parents turn into a dull hum. The street blurs at the edges. Even the phones pointed at us lose their sting. 

It’s just her. 

Just me. 

her breath catches small and sharp.something tightens in my chest in answer a feeling i dont have a name for but feel all the same. 

The wealthy parents falter when I turn toward them. There’s no anger left in their faces–only the kind of fear people get when they realize they pushed too far, picked the wrong target, chose the wrong girl to corner. 

Taylor is still trembling when she whispers my name. 

“Aiden…?” 

It hits something deep. 

i step onto the porch close enough to see the tear tracks drying along her brother’s cheeks close enough to see the way her shoulders shake when she finally exhales. 

i dont touch her. 

i just stand there, steady letting her know without words that she doesnt have to face them alone. 

and for a second the whole chaotic street holds its breath.