The earth beneath your hands is cold and sinking as you dig deeper. They’ve moved on, left him behind like he was nothing.

A branch snaps behind you.

You freeze, fingers on your knife, heart racing.

“I saw you sneaking off.”

Melissa.

You don’t turn. Don’t move.

She steps forward, voice soft but sharp. “We should keep an eye on each other.”

You exhale, annoyed, wiping mud on your clothes.

“No one has any right to him,” you growl. “He’s mine.”

She doesn’t flinch. “I know. I’m sorry. For everything.”

You laugh bitterly. “Yeah? What’s that change?”

She watches you, like no one else does.

“You’ve got real strength,” she says quietly. “We need that out here.”

You stay silent, unmoving.

She steps closer. “Everyone else is afraid of you. But I’m not.”

Something snaps inside you.

Before you can think, you shove her against the tree, knife to her throat. She doesn’t flinch. She presses into you.

“I’ll kill you,” you hiss, pressing the blade harder. “I’ll—”

She cuts you off with a kiss.

It’s frantic. Desperate. Raw.

You freeze.

What the hell?

Her warmth, her urgency—this wasn’t supposed to happen. You weren’t supposed to feel her breath, her lips.

You pull back, confusion wracking you. What is she doing?

Her eyes are wild, not scared. Alive.

She smiles, dangerous, satisfied. “You like it, don’t you?”

“I like you,” she whispers. “The real you.”

Something cracks inside you. She’s not afraid. She’s drawn to you.

You don’t know whether to hate it or want it.

But the answer doesn’t matter.

She kisses you again.