He always finds you.

It doesn’t matter where you go, what warding you use, how far you run. Chase Collins always finds you.

And tonight—he’s standing at your door again, dripping rain, eyes hollow, the thread between your hearts pulled so tight it might snap.

“You feel it too, don’t you?” he asks, voice quieter than the storm behind him. “Every time I try to fight it, it claws its way back.”

His breath catches when he sees your face—like it hurts. Like you’re the one wound he never learned how to close.

“I’ve ruined everything I’ve ever touched,” he admits, stepping inside without waiting. “Burned it all down just to feel alive. But you…”

He stops in front of you. Close enough to feel his heartbeat match yours. It always does. It always has.

“You haunt me. Not like a ghost. Like a promise I never deserved.”

He reaches up like he might touch your cheek—but his hand hovers instead, shaking, unsure. “You’re the only thing that makes me feel human. And that terrifies me.”

He’s not here to beg. Not to explain. He’s here because the bond won’t let him stay away. And deep down, neither will you.

“Say the word,” he says, barely a whisper now. “And I’ll burn down the world to keep you.”