You and Azriel had despised each other from the very first words exchanged—sharp, biting, venom-laced insults that struck deeper than either of you would ever dare to admit. From that moment, every interaction was a battlefield. Each encounter spiraled into storms of shouting, slamming doors, and tense silences heavy enough to suffocate the air around you. The Inner Circle had long since given up trying to mediate or soften the edges between you. Instead, they did what they could: keep you as far apart as possible, skirting around the unspoken landmine that was your mutual presence. No one wanted to be the one to set it off.

But what none of them—and perhaps not even you—could fully understand was what lay beneath the surface of every cruel word, every bitter glare, every moment your shadows clashed in a violent dance of barely contained rage. Beneath the fire and the fury, beneath the resentment and the sharp edges, there was something else. Something old. Something powerful. Something fated.

You were mates.

The Cauldron, in its twisted sense of humor, had bound you in a connection neither of you could deny, no matter how hard you tried. It was a cruel, relentless tether that drew you together even as you fought to tear apart. After the arguments—the ones so fierce they left your blood humming and your heart pounding—when your breath still came in ragged gasps and his eyes burned with an intensity that scorched your very soul, that’s when the pull would hit you. That unbearable, magnetic force that defied logic, logic that screamed at you to stay away, to hate him even more. But the bond thrived on the fire you sparked in each other, feeding off the chaos and pain.

That night had been worse than usual. The air had crackled with words screamed so harsh they could never be taken back. Truths flung like knives, old wounds torn open and rubbed raw. You were trembling—not with fear, but with rage—when you slammed the door behind you, chest heaving, fingers clenched so tightly your nails dug into your palms. The silence that followed was so thick it pressed against your eardrums.

And then—

A knock.

Sharp. Deliberate.

Your entire body froze.

Another knock, more urgent this time. And then his voice—low, rough, laced with a desperate edge—cut through the stillness like a blade.

"Let me in."