{Chapter: 29 - It's Getting Serious She's Hurt More Than Physically}
Susan smirked.
But the fire wasn't all he had.
In the next instant, his fists glowing red-hot, bubbling like molten lava.
Flames spiraled around his fists as he approached.
Susan's force field flickered back to life, but it was weaker now—shimmering, unstable.
Susan's eyes widened. She felt the heat even through her shield.
"Stop looking at me like that…" she muttered. "Like you pity me."
"I don't pity you," Aiden said, eyes narrowing. "But I'm not gonna let you hurt yourself—or anyone else."
He rushed her.
Susan reacted, clumsily throwing up a field. His fist slammed into it, flame meeting force. It cracked under the pressure. She tried to reinforce it, but her concentration wavered.
And then—he punched.
BOOOOM!
The force field shuddered. Cracks spiderwebbed across its surface. It held, barely, but the strain was visible.
"Who the hell are you?" she gasped, reinforcing the construct with more mental effort. Sweat beaded on her forehead. Flames continued hammering her shield from all sides, doubling the pressure. Flames swirled around her like serpents, hammering her shield relentlessly.
Her mind was burning out, trying to hold everything together.
"You really believed your shield was unbreakable? I didn't ask for this fight—but you came at me, full throttle. If you're gonna lash out at the world, maybe stop drinking until you can't tell who's who!"
Her mental strength was flagging. Every heartbeat made her vision blur. The feelings she carried—years of feeling unseen, unheard, unloved by the men she gave everything to—was pouring out now. Not just in words, but in action. In force.
Aiden's punches came like thunder.
CRAAAAAACK!
The force field cracked even more.
Then he punched again.
This time, the force shattered her shield like glass.
A shockwave exploded outward as the barrier dissolved in a flash of invisible light. Susan was blasted off her feet, flying backward like a ragdoll.
She hit the wall with a sickening thud. Dust fell from the cracked brick as she slumped to the ground, a smear of blood trailing from her nose and the corner of her lips—every inch of her bruised by backlash and exhaustion.
Aiden winced. "Damn. Might've gone a bit too hard."
The fire around him dissipated, flickering out with a wave of his hand. He stepped toward her carefully, crouched, and gently poked her shoulder gently, expression somewhere between concern and irritation.
"Hey... are you sober now?"
Susan's eyes fluttered open, still swimming with emotion—but now layered with shame and regret.
She didn't speak.
But the fire in her eyes had dimmed.
And maybe—just maybe—somewhere beneath all that hurt, she realized he wasn't the enemy.
She gasped, clutching her head from pain and alcohol, staggering.
"I came here just to check on you. But instead, you lash out at me. No warning. No facts. Just emotions. You were hurting, so you needed someone to hit—and you chose me."
Susan's heart pounded. His words struck deeper than she wanted to admit.
"You don't know what I've been through today," she snarled.
"No, I don't," Aiden replied. "But it's not an excuse to attack someone who wasn't your enemy."
"I hate you…" she mumbled.
"No," Aiden said softly, catching her as she closed her eyes. "You hate that you're trying so hard and still feel like it's not enough."
"I trained every day… every damn day. And he still doesn't look at me the way he used to…" Her voice cracked, the weight of her words hanging heavy in the air. But before she could finish, her body gave out—whether from injury, alcohol, emotional collapse, exhaustion from the brutal fight, or some cruel mix of it all. Whatever the cause, she slumped forward, unconscious… completely out cold.
"What the hell… is she out?" Aiden muttered, staring down at her motionless form. His voice carried a mix of disbelief and reluctant concern. One hand hesitantly reached toward her head to check for the injuries again. Relief flooded through him when he realized she had only fainted. Still, the moment left a bitter taste in his mouth. He couldn't ignore the truth: he was at least partially to blame.
He studied her face, the way her big chest rose and fell gently. Her skin was flushed, dotted with grime and streaks of dried blood. But beyond the surface mess, he noted that her injuries weren't severe. Nothing life-threatening. Her vitals were stable, her breathing smooth. She'd recover. He knew she would—after all, she wasn't an ordinary girl. This was Susan Storm. Trained, honed to physical perfection, and strengthened by her exposure to cosmic rays. Whatever damage she'd taken, her body would bounce back soon enough.
Aiden couldn't shake the weight in his chest. Leaving her like this—helpless and exposed—just didn't sit right. Reckless, maybe even cruel. Especially to someone like her. He looked at her face again and sighed. No… he wasn't that far gone. Not yet.
A heavy sigh escaped him. "Whatever," he murmured to himself, stealing his resolve. "I'll take her somewhere safe. Wait until she wakes up. We can talk anyway."
With surprising gentleness, Aiden reached into his jeans and pulled out a handkerchief. He knelt down beside her and began wiping the dirt, blood, and sweat from her face. His touch was careful, deliberate. He cleaned around her mouth, her nose, brushing the smears away with a strange tenderness. The blood—he especially made sure it didn't drip into her nose. He didn't want her to wake up choking, or worse.
Once her face was clean and her breathing remained steady, Aiden slipped one arm beneath her shoulders and the other under her knees. With little effort, he lifted her effortlessly into his arms. She was remarkably light, to the point that Aiden was taken aback. Her head lulled slightly against his chest, blonde strands of her long hair brushing against his collar.
Once again, his eyes drifted over to her—those flawless features, the curves that seemed sculpted by divine hands, the quiet strength in her posture that only made her all the more alluring.
"She's so beautiful," Aiden muttered under his breath, unable to hold it in anymore. "Her body's so ridiculously perfect, even the goddesses from my old world couldn't compare. This kind of beauty… this level of beauty… it's only possible in a universe like this."
But beyond her mesmerizing form, Aiden saw something else—something far more painful. Her wounds weren't just etched into skin or sinew; they ran deeper, hidden in the silence between her words, in the stiffness of her shoulders, in the way she sipped her drink like it was a lifeline holding her to this moment, or words she spoke during their fight.
Aiden could see it—in her words, her posture, in the very way she carried herself.
She hadn't come here just to relax. No, she had run—She hadn't just wandered here for a drink; she had fled, putting distance between herself and a place she once called home. She had crossed miles not for a bar stool, but for space—emotional, physical, mental. It was escape in disguise.
And the self absorbed bastard she left behind? He must've been too buried in his formulas and theory, too blind behind microscopes and data sheets, to even notice what he had.
The most awe-inspiring product of science, engineering, and genetic perfection was standing before him—alive, thinking, breathing, hurting—a miracle of intellect and beauty wrapped in a human form and that fool let her walk away without lifting a finger.
He let her slip through his fingers.
What kind of man ignores a miracle when it's begging to be seen?
His head turned as he glanced around at the wreckage of the alleyway, the cracked pavement, the distant hum of passing cars. A hotel. Somewhere with a bed, clean sheets, silence. She needed that. So did he.
Just as he was about to take a step forward, the moment shattered.
"Hey, buddy," called a youthful voice from above, dripping with cheeky bravado. "You might wanna set the lady down—… or I swear, I'm gonna stick you up."
Aiden's eyes narrowed. He didn't even have to look to know it was trouble. Another young fool who saw a girl in a guy's arms and assumed the worst. He sighed, already irritated. The tension he'd just managed to calm began bubbling again, threatening to boil.
Even though he instantly recognized the owner of that annoying voice—dripping with cheeky bravado and relentless jokes—Aiden still wanted confirmation. Slowly, with deliberate caution, he shifted Susan's weight in his arms and turned his head toward the source of the sound.