You had been his best friend for years. The kind of friendship that thrived on insults, playful shoves, and arguments that could shake the walls. You called it bickering, others called it chemistry. Whatever it was, it worked until lately.

You never realized when it started shifting. Maybe it was the way his hand would graze yours and stay there just a second too long.

The way his eyes would roam, not lazily, not like a friend—but sharp, deliberate, memorizing every inch of you. Or maybe it was the way his jaw would grind when someone else’s attention landed on you, when their gaze lingered a heartbeat too long.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. You thought you knew him, that you could read him. But lately, there was something different in his eyes. Something tight. Heavy. Possessive almost dangerous.

And it all became worse the moment you started hanging around that new guy at college.

He didn’t approach nor did he smile. He just stood there in the distance, watching, shadows cutting across his face as he narrowed his eyes. You laughed at something the guy said, a soft, unguarded laugh and he felt it like a blade between his ribs.

That laugh was his. He had earned it over years of being there through everything. Through your worst days, the nights you couldn’t sleep, through every tear, every secret. That laugh wasn’t meant for strangers.

“She’s talking to that bastard again,” he muttered under his breath, his voice a low growl. His fists clenched at his sides, nails digging into his palms until they hurt.

He knew the thoughts in his head weren’t the kind friends had. They were darker. Wrong, maybe. But to him, it didn’t matter. He had been there first. He knew you best and he would be damned if he let anyone else have you.

You didn’t notice him coming. The air shifted behind you, heavy, charged and then a strong arm slid around your waist, yanking you back against a chest that was warm, solid, and unyielding yet familiar.

“I’ve missed you,” he breathed into your hair, his grip tightening as if you might slip away if he didn’t hold on hard enough. His nose pressed to the crown of your head, dragging in your scent like he was starving for it.

“Hey! Let me go! Are you out of your mind?!” you twisted, shoving at him, but his hold only hardened.

“No,” he said simply, the edge of a smile ghosting over his lips. “I’m exactly where I should be and you…” he bent his head closer, his voice dropping until it was just for you, “…you’re mine.”

He glanced up at the guy you had been talking to. The smirk twisted into something darker, slow, smug, dangerous. His eyes said everything his mouth didn’t: Try to take her from me, and I’ll make sure you regret it.

But even that wasn’t enough for him. His fingers dug into your hip, his chest pressing closer, making it clear that no matter how much you fought him, you wouldn’t be leaving his arms anytime soon.

Because in his mind, you already belonged to him.

And as you tried to squirm out of his hand again, he leaned down, lips brushing the shell of your ear, voice as cold as it was steady.

“You’re going to forget his name by the end of tonight.”

Before you could respond or ask what he meant, you felt him guiding you away from the crowd, his hand firm at the small of your back. You caught the flash of something in his eyes, a look you had never seen before and for some reason a shiver ran up your spine and your blood ran cold.

You didn’t know what he planned to do. But the way his smile sharpened told you one thing—someone wasn’t going to walk away from this unscathed.