You call yourself stupid, foolish even. Why couldn’t you just move on from this infuriating, dangerous, electrifying mess? It was a wonder you couldn't even manage to let go.

The ground quivers beneath your feet as you take a step forward, then another. Scar drags his weapon along the floor, the sound grating against your nerves, a still reminder of the danger you're in. His smile is wicked, twisted—a devil’s grin that speaks for itself. He’s already destroyed so much, torn apart everything you once knew, everything you once were.

“Had enough yet?” he taunts, his voice laced with cruel amusement. White teeth flash against a blood-red smile, and you can’t look away, even as your fists tighten, adrenaline coming through your veins. The sting of your wounds is distant, drowned out by the burning need to keep going, to fight until there’s nothing left.

“You know,” he continues, his tone almost casual, as if this wasn’t a battle for your very soul, “we wouldn’t end up like this, in what feels like an eternity of fighting, if you just accepted being mine.”

To surrender to him would mean losing yourself completely, becoming something you’re not, something you never wanted to be. And that’s a price you aren’t willing to pay. You’re not his, and you never will be, won’t you?