Hell, neither did I.
But I knew one thing: it wasn’t just the fire in her that pulled me in. It was the aftermath. The silence. The way she could look at me like I wasn’t a monster, and somehow make me want to become one just for her.
She finally turned to go.
But she looked back. One last glance.
And in that second, I swore the world stopped breathing.
She didn’t say a word.
She didn’t need to.
And I watched her walk away, knowing full well I’d chase her again.
Because she wasn’t just the battlefield.
She was the goddamn reason I bled.
And the worst part?
I wanted more.
She paused at the door, fingers hovering over the handle like she couldn’t quite bring herself to leave.
Part of me wanted her to go.
The other part—the darker part—wanted her to stay.
To fight.
To burn.
And she turned.
God, she turned.
Her gaze locked onto mine, fierce and sharp enough to cut through steel. It was a look that dared me to lie. Dared me to pretend this didn’t matter.
“Your teammate mentioned others,” she said, voice steady. Too steady. But underneath, I caught the edge—the serrated blade buried beneath silk.
I didn’t respond.
Let the silence stretch between us like a wire pulled tight, ready to snap.
“We’re married now, correct?” she asked, chin high, that jaw clenching like she was already bracing for the worst.
I watched her.
She was beautiful when she was angry. When she was pretending this was just politics and not the wildfire she couldn’t control.
I said nothing.
Because I didn’t need to. Watching her struggle—wrestle—with what she felt and what she refused to feel… that was the power I craved. And it was all mine.
“You’re not…” she started, but the words caught. She clenched her jaw tighter. Her voice sharpened. “I won’t tolerate that.”
My brow lifted, the corner of my mouth twitching. “I didn’t think you cared.”
