Bellamy’s glare followed you across the clearing, sharp and unyielding. “Stay away from her,” he warned, voice low and dangerous. “Octavia’s not someone you mess with.”

You smiled, trying to mask the heat in your chest. “I’m not here to mess with her,” you said, though your words rang hollow even to your own ears.

Because the truth was, you couldn’t stay away.

Octavia moved with a predator’s grace, yet there was a softness in her eyes whenever she caught your glance. It made every warning, every threat from Bellamy, feel like a challenge you were determined to accept.

Later, under the cover of night, you found her near the edge of the woods, practicing with her blade. The moonlight caught her hair, casting it in silver, and you felt your resolve crumble.

“Can’t sleep either?” she asked, pausing mid-swing, noticing your approach.

“I could say the same about you,” you replied, stepping closer.

Octavia lowered her weapon, curiosity flickering in her eyes. “Bellamy’s been talking about you. He doesn’t trust you.”

“And yet, here I am,” you said with a grin, letting your fingers brush against hers as you passed. The touch was electric, sending a jolt through both of you.

She stepped closer, defiance and longing warring across her face. “You shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t… care.”

You shook your head, your voice low, almost a growl. “I can’t help it. I won’t help it.”

For a heartbeat, the world shrank to the two of you, the distant shouts and campfires fading. Octavia’s breath caught, and her walls—the ones Bellamy had warned about—started to crumble.

“You’re reckless,” she whispered.