A chill runs through me, his words settling over me like a heavy blanket. I want to look away, but his gaze holds me captive, daring me to understand him, to see the truth of what he is—of what he’s become. Is this to do with his sister dying? Is that what made him switch? None of this makes sense. He’s talking in riddles. But also, why didn’t Dr Moss mention his sister going missing?
“What are you trying to tell me, Ty?” I ask, my voice soft, feeling desperate for answers.
His gaze lowers, dipping just enough for me to catch the vulnerability hiding in the shadows of his lashes as they fan over his sharp cheekbones. In that moment, something inside me aches—a strange urge to reach out and touch him, to comfort him, but I know it’s a dangerous desire. Because just as much as I want to soothe the cracks in him, I also want to tear them wider. I want to peel back his flesh and see what gnaws beneath the insanity, to understand what it is that makes him this way.
“You don’t have to lie to me, Ty,” I murmur quietly, as if speaking too loudly might spook the beast in front of me. “We’re not in SHA. I’m not your therapist anymore. It’s just me and you.”
His eyes lift, his gaze steering back to mine. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t move, just stares, but when I open my mouth, about to probe him again, the pad of his thumb sweeps gently across my bottom lip, the gesture so intimate it makes my heart race. His dark eyes follow the movement, then his hand shifts, his fingers brushing through my red hair, tucking it gently behind my ear.
“Don’t worry, freckles,” he murmurs, his tone low and dripping with something that feels like both a promise and a warning. “In time, you’ll see everything for what it is. It’s nothing I can say. You have to see it to understand.”
His words wrap around me like a silk noose, soft but choking. They don’t make me feel safe—they worry me, because I don’t know what “everything” is, and with him, I’m fucking terrified to find out.
“But just know,” he breathes the whisper against my lips, “Darkness is where I belong. Where I find peace—until now, when you swarm my twisted thoughts, kitten. But never mistake my obsession with you as a weakness. I’ll drown you in my fucking shadows if it means keep you to myself.” I gaze into his dark eye as he continues. “It’s us, ‘Til Def. You’re carved into my black soul, and nothing will ever tear you out.”
I can’t look away and I don’t, stunned by his words. He’s a beautiful combination of chaos and peace all at once, and I’m starting to realize that I’m caught somewhere in the middle of his mayhem.
…
The fire crackles softly, its flickering light dancing across the room as I sit huddled close, my hoodie pulled low over my head. Dawn bleeds faintly through the edges of the wood covered windows, but the warmth of the fire is all I can feel. My mind is a storm, swirling with questions I don’t want to answer. What doI do next? Do I stay and try to make sense of him, to piece him back together?
There’s a part of me—small but insistent—that wants to try. His heart is cold, encased in layers of ice and shadows, and I can’t help but feel an ache to melt it. To fill it with something real. Something...human. But the other part of me, the part still tethered to survival, screams at me to run. To take the first chance I get and not look back. He isn’t my responsibility.
And yet, here I am. Stuck. Trapped.
He’s locked me in here, and I don’t know how much longer I can take it. How long can he keep this up? Days? Weeks? Until his guard slips and I find my moment? Until he’s caught or even dead? My freedom feels so close and yet impossibly far.
I wrap my arms around myself, my heart heavy with contradiction. Ty isn’t entirely bad. I’ve seen flashes of something else beneath the mayhem. He’s broken, a man with pieces scattered too far to put back together. But even as I cling to that hope, I can’t ignore the truth: he’s sinister. A slayer cloaked in a hoodie. A killer with no remorse.
My hands tremble as I stare down at them, my fingers curled tightly into my palms. A jittery exhale escapes me, and I shake my head, trying to push back the thoughts clawing at my mind.
How can I sense goodness in a soul so dark? How can I let myself believe there’s something worth saving when I’ve already seen the depths of his violence?
The fire hisses again, the heat creeping up my legs, but it doesn’t reach my heart. That remains heavy and cold, locked in its own war. When I hear a noise outside, my head turns, and I look at the window. I gently stand and walk toward it. When close enough, I peer through the planks of wood, spotting him outside, shirtless, not bothered that it’s winter.
He’s chopping wood. His muscles ripple with every swing of the axe, each scar and muscle moving in harmony as the blade smashes down into the wood with such force, I feel my toes curl. I watch carefully, mesmerized, a strange heat rising inside me despite the chill.
Midnight prowls in overgrowth nearby, sniffing lazily at the frost-laden grass but never too far away from him. She lingers by his side like she’s been bewitched, caught in the same pull that seems to drag me toward him.
When he finishes, he leans down, scooping the split logs into his arms with an effortless power. The axe swings easily at his side, glinting menacingly in the dull sunlight. His voice breaks the quiet as he calls out to her, a low, commanding sound. Midnight perks up immediately, trotting after him like a shadow as he strides back toward the house.
I swallow hard, wrapping my arms around myself as my gaze sweeps over the dense, shadowed woods stretching behind the mansion.
“All I need to do is get to my car,” I whisper, as if saying it louder might break the fragile rope of hope holding me together. “I need to get out of here before I stupidly fall for him.”
The creak of the door unlocking behind me makes my entire body go rigid. When it swings open, I hear his footsteps pause. He sees me; I can feel the weight of his gaze pressing into my back. Still, I don’t turn. My fingers dig into my sides as I force myself to stay still, my heart hammering in my chest.
He steps inside, the door clicking shut behind him. His boots are loud against the wooden floor, each step closing the space between us. It’s deliberate, almost taunting, until I can feel his presence looming behind me,
I glance at him from the corner of my eye. “I was supposed to leave for work by now, Ty.” My words are sharp, meant to cut, to remind him that there’s a world outside of this. Outside of him.
He doesn’t seem bothered, doesn’t even react and the silence stretches until I finally look away.
“It looks like someone will be wondering where I am after all,” I add, hoping to shake him, to find a crack in his composure.
“Not necessarily,” he finally says, his voice low and smooth.
My brows knit together, confusion quickly giving way to dread.
