My first instinct is primal. Flee. Turn around and walk out the door. Forget I saw him.
But my feet are rooted to the floor. The curiosity, that tiny, burning ember, flares to life. It pins me in place.
He must feel my eyes on him. He stills for a second before slowly turning his head.
His green eyes find mine.
Recognition hits him, but it’s not a surprise. It’s a confirmation. A dark, profound satisfaction settles on his face, and the exhaustion vanishes, replaced by a predatory stillness. He’s been waiting for this. His jaw tightens. We stand there for a long moment, a silent standoff between the soft drinks and the salty snacks.
He takes a step out of his aisle, blocking my path to the front counter. It’s a deliberate, calculated move. He’s not going to let me just disappear this time.
“You,” he says again. His voice is still a rasp, but it’s quieter here, stripped of the alley’s echo.
I say nothing. I just hold my bottle of water, my knuckles white. My heart is doing that stupid, painful thumping thing again.
“Ghost girl,” he continues, a slight, mocking smirk playing on his split lip. It’s not a question. It’s a name he’s assigning me. “Knew I’d see you again.”
The confidence sends a cold, unwelcome shiver through me. This wasn’t a chance encounter for him. It was an inevitability. “How?” I ask, the word a whisper.
“Because I’ve been thinking about you,” he says, as if that’s the only reason required. He takes another slow step closer. “The building on Ash Street. That’s you.”
It’s a statement, not a question. He knows. I give a single, tight nod, my throat too dry to speak.
“Figured,” he says, stopping a few feet away. I can smell the faint scent of whiskey and winter air on him. He gestures with the box of aspirin. “Headache?”
The mundane question throws me off balance. “No,” I manage to say.
“Good. Me neither.” He tosses the box back on the shelf with a clatter. “So. You gonna tell me your name, or am I supposed to guess?”
My name. My name is Aria. It was Jade’s favorite. Giving it to him feels like a sacrilege, like handing over a piece of her.
“Why?” I ask.
His smirk fades. He cocks his head, his gaze sharp, analytical. “Because the ghost I saw in the alley needs a name. Because I need to know what to call the person I can’t stop thinking about, and because I’m not going to leave you alone until you tell me.”
There it is. The threat, wrapped in a layer of raw, obsessive honesty. He’s a predator who has decided I’m his. My instincts are screaming at me to run, but the curiosity is louder. It wants to know what happens next. It wants to poke the storm with a stick.
“Aria,” I say. The name feels strange on my tongue.
He tastes it, repeating it under his breath, a look of dark, profound satisfaction on his face. “Aria.” He says it like he’s finally claiming something he’s only ever seen from a distance. A slow, genuine smile spreads across his face. It’s devastating. It transforms his bruised, hard face into something boyish and breathtakingly beautiful. “I’m Cassian.”
Cassian. The name sounds like a clash of steel.
“Now we’re not strangers anymore, are we, Aria?” he says, his eyes glinting with a triumphant, dangerous light.
I don’t know what we are. I just know that standing here with him feels more real than anything I’ve experienced in years. It’s terrifying. I need to go.
I sidestep him and walk toward the front of the store. I can feel his eyes on my back. I place the water on the counter. The cashier, a bored-looking teenager, doesn’t even look up from his phone.
“That all?” he mutters.
I nod, fumbling for a few dollars. My hands are shaking. I can feel Cassian approaching, his presence a heavy weight. He stands behind me, waiting. The silence is more intimidating than any words.
I pay for the water, grab the bottle, and turn to leave. He’s standing right there, blocking the door.
“I’ll see you around, Aria,” he says. It’s not a hope. It’s a declaration of intent.
I look up at his face. The beautiful smile is gone, replaced by a look of raw, possessive intensity. He’s memorizing me, imprinting every detail.
