Chapter 3: Collision of Worlds

[*Clark P**ov*]

The following evening, exhaustion clung to me like a second skin. After my shift, I stepped outside the hospital gates, bag slung over my shoulder, my footsteps dragging along the pavement. I was used to fatigue every nurse was, but tonight, the weariness felt heavier, as though something unseen pressed on my chest.

I adjusted my mask and glanced at the street. There it was again a sleek, black car idling across the road. Its tinted windows reflected the harsh hospital lights. I tried convincing myself it was coincidence. Maybe it belonged to some politician or celebrity, someone important enough to draw attention but not to me.

Yet… I could feel it. Eyes. Watching.

My heart raced as I quickened my steps, clutching the bag tighter. The city had always been unpredictable, but tonight, it felt hostile. I thought of Mara waiting at home, probably nagging me for staying late again. I thought of Liam’s smile earlier, his crayon drawing of me as a superhero taped proudly to the wall.

Those innocent pieces of life my fragile, ordinary world were the only things that steadied me.

I didn’t know then that the gaze from that black car would follow me into every choice, every breath, from this night forward.

...**********************************************...

[*Steven P**ov*]

Through the tinted glass, I studied him again. The boy in white. The nurse. His steps were hurried, but his shoulders carried a strange softness fragile, yet unbroken.

I had watched countless men before like enemies, allies, traitors, killers. But none of them moved like him. None of them had that light in their aura that seemed so out of place in this city that thrived on shadows.

Boss?, you’ve been staring at that kid for three nights now. Want me to find out who he is?, Marco muttered from the driver’s seat.

I didn’t answer immediately. My instincts screamed at me this was weakness. Obsession. I was Steven Monadragon, and men died for far less than catching my attention....Yet…

Do it, But carefully. No mistakes, I finally said, voice low, dangerous

Marco nodded once. He knew what that tone meant this wasn’t just curiosity. This was possession waiting to happen.

I leaned back, eyes still fixed on the retreating figure of the boy. He didn’t know it yet, but fate had already written him into my story. And I never let go of what I claimed.

...**********************************************...

[*Clark P**ov*]

The next morning, Mara noticed how restless I was.

You didn’t sleep again, What’s going on, Clark? Don’t tell me hospital stress. I know that face. You’re… spooked, She said, sipping her coffee

I hesitated. Should I tell her about the car, about the stare that felt like it pierced my soul? She would only worry.

Nothing, Just… tired, I lied, forcing a smile.

But Mara wasn’t convinced. You should be careful walking home. This city isn’t safe. Especially with all the rumors lately gang wars, shootouts, even the police keeping quiet. Something big is happening.

Her words unsettled me. The police were supposed to protect us. If even they were silent, then what kind of monster was out there pulling strings?

I didn’t know the name yet Steven Monadragon but soon I would.

...**********************************************...

[Steven Pov]

By noon, Marco had delivered.

His name’s Clark Reyes Villa, Twenty-four. Nurse at St. Dominic’s. Lives with his cousin Mara. Clean record. Orphaned young. Quiet life. Almost… too clean, Marco said, laying down a thin folder on my desk.

I opened the file, scanning the details. A single photograph clipped inside caught my gaze it was him, smiling faintly at the camera during what must have been a hospital staff event. Innocent. Unaware.

Why him? With all respect, Boss, this is unlike you. You don’t… look at people like this Marco dared to say.

Maybe that’s exactly why, I say to him while smirked, but there was no humor in it.

Marco stiffened, but he didn’t question further. He knew better.

On the surface, I returned to business. Meetings, shipments, silent threats carried out. Even the police, those supposed guardians of order, bent their heads when my name was mentioned. They feared me, respected me, because they knew what I was capable of.

But beneath the mask of power, my thoughts strayed to Clark. His face. His eyes. His quiet dignity.

Dangerous. Because the moment I wanted something, I always got it. And wanting him felt inevitable.

...**********************************************...

[Clark Pov]

That night, the hospital was chaos. An ambulance had rushed in three gunshot victims, men who reeked of smoke, blood, and violence. The police hovered nearby but kept their distance, their faces tense, fearful.

I moved quickly, helping to stabilize one of the men. His tattoos matched the patient I had seen a few days ago. Something about their silence, the way the officers refused to press questions, made my skin crawl.

Later, as I stepped into the hall to breathe, I overheard one officer whisper to another:

They’re Monadragon’s men. Don’t ask questions. Just… do the paperwork.

The name meant nothing to me yet, but the way it left their lips with dread, with resignation etched it deep into my mind.

Monadragon.

And as if summoned by the thought, I felt it again. That presence. That gaze.

I turned toward the glass doors of the hospital. Outside, beneath the glow of the streetlights, a familiar black car waited.

The world tilted for a moment. And in that instant, I knew whatever Monadragon was, whoever he was my life was no longer mine alone.

...**********************************************...

[*Steven’s P**ov*]

I watched from the car as Clark emerged briefly into the hallway, his figure framed by harsh hospital lights. For a second, our eyes nearly met through the glass.

Boss, if you keep showing up like this, someone’s going to notice, Marco say while shifted uncomfortably beside me.

Let them, Even the police don’t question me. Why should anyone else? I said, my voice cold.

The truth was, fear was my kingdom. The police bowed. Judges looked away. Politicians shook my hand with trembling smiles. But none of them stirred anything inside me.

Clark did.

I leaned forward, gaze locked on him. Soon, Marco. He’ll know my name. He’ll know he belongs to me.

And as I spoke, a storm brewed in my chest. Not the kind that destroyed empires but the kind that rebuilt them in ways no one could predict.

...**********************************************...

[*Clark’s P**ov*]

I returned to my shift, hands trembling slightly as I scribbled notes on a patient chart. My colleagues teased me about overworking, but none of them saw what I had seen. None of them felt that shadow pressing in from outside.

I wasn’t ready for it. I wasn’t ready for him.

But fate wasn’t asking for my permission.

And by the time this night ended, I realized that my world had already collided with his.

...-------End of Chapter 3--------...

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