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Enternal Shadows (The Love of Wade and Peter)

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Chapter 3: Smoke and Shadows

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Wade’s Return

The city outside was still burning with neon when Wade finally reached his penthouse.

He hated the silence of home. In the streets, noise drowned his thoughts. But here, the quiet was suffocating.

He tossed his coat over the sofa, loosened the collar of his shirt, and poured himself a glass of whiskey. The image of Peter’s bruised face lingered in his mind, replaying like a scar that refused to fade.

He had killed dozens of men, but that slap from Sanchi had disturbed him more than all their deaths combined.

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John’s Arrival

The door clicked open without warning. Wade’s hand instinctively reached for the gun at his side. But then he heard a familiar voice:

“Easy, boss. Don’t shoot the one who makes your coffee.”

It was John—his assistant, his shadow, his sometimes-lover.

John was nothing like Wade’s other men. He was lean, sharp-featured, with playful green eyes that always carried trouble. Where Wade was stone, John was fire. He laughed too loudly, flirted too openly, and wore danger like perfume.

He leaned against the doorframe, grinning. “You look like hell, Wade. Long night?”

Wade poured another drink and muttered, “You don’t belong here this late.”

John raised an eyebrow. “Don’t I? Funny, because last week you didn’t seem to mind when I stayed the night.”

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The Flirtation

Wade shot him a look. “Don’t push your luck.”

But John stepped closer, unbuttoning the top of his own shirt, teasing.

“Oh, come on. Don’t act like you don’t like it when I push.”

Wade didn’t reply. He sipped his whiskey instead, eyes cold.

John circled behind him, fingers brushing Wade’s shoulder. “You know, for the most dangerous man in this city, you’re awfully lonely.”

Wade finally turned, smirking faintly. “And you’re awfully nosy.”

For a moment, the tension in the room wasn’t anger—it was heat. They weren’t lovers in the traditional sense; they were two wolves circling, sometimes colliding. Wade ignored most of John’s flirting, but every now and then, he let the fire burn.

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The Anger

John poured himself a drink and sat on the edge of the desk. “So what’s eating you tonight? You’re quieter than usual.”

Wade clenched his jaw. “Leopard.”

John tilted his head. “Ah. Let me guess. He’s pulling your strings again?”

“And Sanchi,” Wade muttered. His hand tightened around the glass. “That bastard laid hands on someone tonight. A kid. Silent, fragile. Didn’t even fight back. And Leopard… Leopard lets him run free like he owns the streets.”

John studied him carefully. “So why don’t you leave, Wade?”

The question hit like a bullet. Wade glared at him, but John didn’t flinch.

“You could,” John pressed. “You’ve got power, money, men. Walk away. Why let Leopard chain you?”

Wade’s silence was heavy. Finally, he muttered, “Because men like me don’t get to walk away. Not without blood on the pavement.”

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The Past

The room fell quiet. Wade stared into his glass, his reflection broken by amber ripples.

“I used to believe in walking away,” he said finally. “Back when I still had… something to protect.”

John leaned forward, curious.

Wade’s voice lowered, almost a growl. “My sister. Years ago, she was taken. Human traffickers.”

His grip on the glass shook. “I tore through them like a storm. Alone. No gang, no backup. Just me and a gun. I dragged her out myself. Broken, bleeding, but alive.”

For a moment, Wade’s mask cracked. His eyes glistened. “I swore I’d never let anyone I loved be touched like that again. That’s why… when I saw that kid tonight—Peter—” He stopped, shaking his head. “I wanted to kill Sanchi right there.”

John’s eyes narrowed. “So this Peter… means something already?”

Wade shot him a look, sharp and warning. “Don’t.”

John smirked faintly, but his tone softened. “You’ve got a heart, Wade. You hide it, bury it, drown it in whiskey—but it’s there. And that’s why Leopard owns you. Because he knows you’ll never stop protecting the people you care about.”

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The Clash

Wade stood suddenly, slamming his glass down. “Enough, John.”

John rose too, stepping close until they were almost chest to chest. “You can run from me, Wade. You can run from Peter. But you can’t run from yourself.”

The air crackled between them. For a moment, Wade almost kissed him. Almost.

But then he turned away, lighting another cigarette. “Go home, John.”

John lingered at the door, smirking despite the tension. “You know I’ll be back. You never really tell me no.”

And then he was gone, leaving Wade alone with smoke, silence, and the ghost of his past.

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The End of the Night

Wade stood at the window, staring at the city lights. His reflection in the glass looked like a stranger.

Leopard owned his body. Sanchi tested his patience. John played with his heart.

But Peter—Peter had touched something deeper. Something Wade thought he’d buried years ago.

He clenched his fist. The past told him to walk away. But his instincts told him he wouldn’t.

Not this time.

And somewhere in the city, Peter was sleeping under Sanchi’s shadow.