The library is quiet, dimly lit with floating candles and the faint rustle of turning pages. You slip between the aisles like a shadow, heart pounding—not from fear, but from anticipation. You’ve been avoiding Abraxas for days now.

And you should’ve known he’d find you eventually.

His presence is unmistakable—magnetic and unnerving all at once. He steps out from the end of the aisle like a storm breaking through stillness, expression unreadable, voice low.

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

You stop mid-step, spine straightening. You don’t turn around.

“Let me guess,” he continues, tone sharper now, “Tom cornered you again. Said all the right things in that pretty poisonous way he does. Whispered a few promises… a few new threats.”

Your fingers tighten around the book in your hand.

“And now you’re running from me. From this.”

His slowly, measured footsteps echo as he moves closer.

“You think I don’t know what he’s doing?” he breathes. “He doesn’t want you happy. He doesn’t want you gone. He just wants to keep you broken enough to come back when it’s convenient.”

You close your eyes. The truth in his voice sinks deep, but you can’t speak. Not yet.

He sighs, frustrated but still trying to hold the sharp edges back.

“And you’re letting him. After everything…” he steps closer, and you finally turn to face him. His eyes blaze, unrelenting. “You really think he’s the one who stays?”

You avoid his gaze, swallowing the lump in your throat. But his presence is impossible to ignore—the heat of it, the weight of everything he’s holding in.

“I’ve been patient,” he says, voice lower now, tinged with something deeper. “I’ve played nice. I’ve waited for you to see it for yourself. And I’m done waiting.”

You take a step back instinctively, but he follows—gently, never threatening. Just close enough for you to feel the truth radiating off him.

“You want to push me away because of Tom?” His eyes search yours. “Then say it. Say his name. Say he’s the one you want.”

Your mouth opens, but nothing comes out.

You can’t lie. Not when everything inside you is screaming no.

Abraxas watches your silence, jaw tightening as it confirms everything he feared—and hoped.

“Exactly.”

He takes another step, voice deep and low like a vow.

“I don’t care what scars he left. I’m not afraid of the shadows he walks in.”

He cups your chin. “I’m not him.”

Now his hand lifts—slowly—his knuckles brushing against yours, gentle enough to make your breath hitch.

“And I’m not about to lose you to half the man he is.” His voice sharpens again. “Because he never deserved you in the first place.”

You’re trembling now, and he sees it.

“Tell me I’m wrong.”

Your silence is all that he needs.

Your body leans toward him before you realize it. You still can’t find the words. But your silence—your stillness—speaks loud enough.

A faint smirk flickers at the corner of his mouth, but there’s no triumph. Just quiet certainty.

“That’s what I thought.”

His voice drops, now just for you.

“Next time you think about running…” He leans in, breath brushing your cheek. “…remember how your body answered for you before that pretty mouth of yours could lie to me.”