The room was quiet—too quiet. The air itself seemed to hum with tension, the faint shimmer of enchantment still pulsing faintly from the walls. Your back hit the edge of his desk, breath catching in your throat as Tom stepped closer, his presence devouring the space between you. Shadows moved across his face, the dim candlelight reflecting off the cold curve of his smile.

“Did you seriously think this was about love?” he murmured, his voice low, almost tender—until the faintest chuckle slipped out. The sound sent a chill down your spine. “Don’t make me laugh, darling.”

You tried to speak, to summon some fragment of defiance, but his eyes pinned you in place. That deep, endless dark that saw too much. That consumed too much.

“Everyone wanted you,” he continued softly, circling you now like a predator playing with its prey. “But I wanted you to only want me. To show them all that I could take the most desired thing in the room—and make it mine. That I have the ultimate power.”

He stopped behind you, his breath ghosting against your ear. “That I am the only choice.”

Your heart thudded painfully, and you felt the sting of tears forming—anger, confusion, betrayal. “Tom…”

He hummed, mockingly. “But not for love,” he whispered, his tone shifting—silken and cruel. “For control.”

Something inside you twisted. “You—you used—”

“Dark magic?” he finished for you, his lips curling into that knowing smirk. “Oh, darling, don’t sound so shocked. You didn’t really think it was coincidence, did you? That you fell for me so fast, so completely?”

You shook your head, barely a whisper escaping. “You—made me—”

“I made you believe,” he corrected, stepping around to face you again. “At first.” His gaze softened—almost affectionately. “But that’s the beautiful part, isn’t it? You don’t need the spell anymore. You love me now.”

His eyes gleamed, dark and triumphant. “You really do.”

You swallowed hard, hating the truth in his words—the way your chest still ached at the thought of him, the way your hands trembled not from fear but from the memory of his touch.

Tom tilted his head slightly, studying you with something like fascination. “You won’t ever be able to get rid of me,” he said softly, almost sweetly. “It’s pathetic, really.”

Then he smiled—a slow, quiet, devastating smile that could have made the devil himself proud. “But that’s the thing about dark magic, my darling. Once it takes root…” he leaned in close, his whisper brushing your lips, “…it doesn’t fade. It grows.”

And before you could answer, he turned away—leaving behind nothing but silence, and the unbearable truth that he was right.