Darkness has always felt like home to me. The world is quieter here, stripped of masks, stripped of lies. That’s why I chose this place—abandoned, forgotten, where only silence and shadows keep us company.

And her.

She stood at the far end of the room, her back against the peeling wall, arms folded like a shield across her chest. But her eyes—God, her eyes betrayed her. Fear laced with defiance, burning so bright it drew me in like a moth to flame.

I shouldn’t have followed her here. I shouldn’t have found her at all. But I did. Because I always do.

My boots echoed against the concrete floor as I closed the distance between us. Every step deliberate. Predatory. She didn’t move. Not away. Not toward me. Just stood there, frozen, as though running would be pointless.

“You think you can keep slipping away,” I said, my voice low, raw. “But I don’t lose things that belong to me.”

Her breath hitched, barely audible, but I caught it. She hated that I noticed. Hated that I knew her pulse was racing, that she wasn’t as untouchable as she wanted me to believe.

I reached the wall, bracing one hand beside her head, boxing her in. She stiffened, chin tilting upward, still trying to hold her ground. Brave girl. Stupid girl.

“You’re dangerous,” she whispered.

I leaned closer, my lips brushing the shell of her ear, my words sinking into her skin like a promise.

“Dangerous doesn’t even begin to cover it.”