I was at a loss for words; my mind had short-circuited. I craved more. I wanted all of him. But I alsofeared the intensity of it all. So, I did the only thing I could think of. I gently, breathlessly pushed him back.
He froze, blinking rapidly, his chest rising and falling as if he’d just sprinted a marathon. His hands fell to his sides, but he didn’t step away.
“You, okay?” I asked, my voice hoarse.
He nodded, still trying to catch his breath.
“No. Yes. I just…”
“Just?”
I asked and he shook his head and smiled his crooked smile.
He took one last look at me—those dark eyes, that swollen mouth, fingers twitching as if he wanted to pull me back into his world—and then he turned away.
“I’ll see you later,” he said, and this time, I let him go.
I walked into my home, and shut the door behind me still breathless, still tasting him. I pressed my fingers to my lips, as if trying to hold onto that warmth just a little longer.
Then, I waited. I waited for the sound of the engine.
And there it was—the low growl of Noah’s motorcycle roaring back to life. The rumble rolled down the street, fading into the night like both a warning and a promise.Only when I was certain he had vanished did I allow myself to move.
The silence that settled in felt heavy. Too perfect. Something wasn’t right.
The hairs on my arms prickled. There was a subtle shift in the air—like the oxygen had thinned. The scent of smoke had vanished, replaced by something colder. Still. Watching. My instincts kicked in.
Without making a sound, I slid the strap of my bag off my shoulder and reached inside, my fingers wrapping around the hilt of the dagger tucked beneath my compact and keys. The metal felt cool against my palm, grounding me.
I took a step forward.
Then I heard it—a sound behind me, so faint that most wouldn’t have noticed.
But I wasn’t most people.
I spun around, dagger already in motion. It sliced through the air, aimed for center mass, silent and sharp.
The figure behind me caught it. In mid-flight. His hand closed around the blade as if he had been waiting for it.
My heart stopped.
He stepped into the light.
No.
No, no, no—
It couldn’t be.
But it was.
“Dad?”
I breathed, the word catching in my throat like splinters. He held the dagger in his palm, completely unharmed, as if he hadn’t just had a weapon thrown at him.
“Nice throw,” he said, a ghost of a smile flickering on his lips. “But next time? Don’t hesitate.”
Noah
