Page 218 of The Bittersweet Bond

"Out of all the events you could’ve chosen, you’re here again tonight?" Bas took a step closer, his voice low but cutting.

Sergej held his gaze. A slow, tired smile ghosted over his lips. "I’m just doing my job, butthe fact that I still get to you this much…" He tilted his head slightly. "Should I be flattered?"

The audacity of him standing there, so nonchalantly, sent something dark surging inside Bas.

"Cut the crap," Bas growled, his voice barely more than a dangerous rumble. "Pack your shit and get the hell out before I throw you out myself."

Sergej didn’t even flinch. His face remained unreadable, but there was a flicker of amusement in his eyes. Then—almost carelessly—he let out a quiet chuckle.

"Still playing the protector?" His tone was almost amused. "Or are you a bouncer now?"

A wave of nausea rolled through Bas.

"I told you to fuck off." His hand shot forward, gripping Sergej’s arm in a hold that left no room for argument. The fabric beneath his fingers crumpled slightly.

Sergej didn’t move, his expression remained blank. But at the corner of his mouth, a small, mocking smirk twitched.

"Bas."

A familiar voice cut through the air between them. Deep and steady, carrying quiet authority.

Mr Hayes.

Slowly, Bas turned his head. Despite the resistance within him, he met the older man’s gaze—calm, unreadable, but firm.

"Let him go," he said, his tone unwavering.

Bas’ chest rose and fell quickly, his breath shallow. Every muscle in his body was still coiled tight, his grip on Sergej’s arm unrelenting. But after a brief moment of hesitation, he let go.

Sergej pulled his arm back, rubbing the spot with exaggerated nonchalance. His gaze remained hard to decipher, but a flicker of triumph gleamed beneath the surface.

"Cute," he murmured, blinking sluggishly. His eyes lingered on Bas—cool, unreadable. Then, a subtle tilt of his head, a shadow passing through his expression. Not a threat. Worse. A quiet admission that he wasn’t going anywhere. And then he disappeared into the crowd.

But something in his gaze lingered, gnawed at Bas, left an uncomfortable pull in his chest.

Evin’s father stepped closer, giving Bas a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "That was the right decision," he said, his voice firm but not reprimanding. Then, after a brief pause, he added, "Don’t take this too personally. He’s just a fraud." With that, he vanished into the crowd as if he had never been there.

Bas disagreed. But he also knew the whole story.

And that was exactly why his anger twisted into something heavier, something suffocating, as another thought forced its way into his mind.

His father’s words.

Why had his father been right? Should he have taken the deal?

If he had, Sergej would be gone now. For good.

But at what cost?Fuck.

For a moment, Bas couldn’t help but wonder if refusing the deal hadn’t just been stupid—but selfish. Now, he had nothing in his hands except his fists and a decision that had never been his to win.

Maybe his father had known that all along.

And that thought alone made Bas feel sick.

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Evin

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