You thought you could outrun him.

Weeks of unanswered texts. Dodged calls. Avoided glances. You thought if you put enough distance between you and Shiyan, he’d eventually give up, move on, let you breathe.

You were wrong.

The moment you spot him, it’s too late—Shiyan, leaning against the end of the aisle like he owns it, arms crossed over his broad chest, that lazy, dangerous glint in his eyes. He doesn’t even pretend to hide his irritation. His steps are slow, deliberate, as he closes the distance between you in seconds, until you’re caged between him and the shelf.

"You've had your fun," he says, voice low and rough, each word scraping against your skin like a spark about to catch fire. "But that's enough."

You try to back away, but he’s already there—pressing closer, crowding your space, his scent wrapping around you, his body radiating heat you can't ignore. His hand slams into the shelf beside your head, the shelf rattling slightly under the weight of his frustration.

"Think you can just fckin’ ignore me?" he mutters, the edge of a smirk curling his lips, though his eyes are anything but amused. His fingers trail down your arm, featherlight, until they wrap around your wrist—not rough, but firm. Possessive.

"You’re mine. Always were. Always will be," he breathes against your ear, his words sinking deep into your bones. "You can run. You can hide. Hell, you can even lie to yourself. But it doesn’t change what’s between us."

Your heart hammers against your chest. His thumb brushes against your wrist, slow and deliberate, and when he tilts your chin up with two fingers, there’s nowhere to look but at him—those dark, furious eyes that have haunted your dreams.

"You don't get to pretend this isn't real," Shiyan says, thumb dragging rough across your bottom lip. His voice is velvet-wrapped steel, low and unyielding. "You don't get to act like you don't miss me. Like you don't want me."

The air between you hums with the weight of everything you left unsaid. Every breath, every heartbeat, every inch between your bodies sparks, charged and inevitable.

And you realize—no matter how far you ran, you were never going to escape him.