LITTLE OR NOTHING
864 Words
CHAPTER 5 — The Name He Shouldn’t Know
The cabin was quieter than it should’ve been.
Not peaceful.
Not calm.
Just… tight.
Like every sound was being held in place, too afraid to move.
Noxen stood by the window again, shoulders squared, jaw locked, watching the treeline with the binoculars he used like an extra pair of eyes. He’d been like this for nearly an hour.
Silent.
Still.
Unreachable.
I sat on the edge of the bed, incredibly aware of the leather cuffs still around my wrists—even though he’d unbuckled them. They hung loose now, like a threat he hadn’t decided to use again.
I watched him, waiting.
He wasn’t going to speak first.
He never did.
Fine.
“Why do you know my name?”
He didn’t flinch.
Didn’t turn.
But I saw the shift—subtle—like the shadow around him thickened.
“We’re not doing this right now,” he said quietly.
“We are.”
My voice was steadier than I felt.
“Tell me.”
“You don’t need to know.”
“That’s not your decision.”
That got him. His shoulders tensed, barely, and he lowered the binoculars.
“We have more important things to deal with,” he said. “Drop it.”
“No.”
I stood. His gaze flicked toward me—sharp, warning, the kind of look that should have sent me back to the bed. But I was done being quiet.
Done pretending I wasn’t terrified.
“You said my name before I told you who I was,” I continued. “You said it like you’ve said it a thousand times. Like you’ve practiced it. Like you—”
“Vayra.”
That single word was a blade.
Low, rough, almost dangerous.
But I didn’t stop.
“How long have you been watching me?”
His hands curled into fists at his sides.
“Noxen,” I pressed. “How long?”
“Stop.”
“Tell me the truth.”
“Vayra—”
“How. Long?”
Something snapped.
The room felt it before I did.
He spun toward me, faster than I could step back, faster than breath. His hand slammed against the wall beside my head—not touching me, but close enough that the air between us quivered.
My heart crashed against my ribs.
His face was inches from mine, eyes dark, burning, barely human.
“You think you want the truth?” he growled. “You don’t.”
“Yes,” I whispered, refusing to look away. “I do.”
His breathing was uneven.
His control—usually terrifyingly perfect—shook like glass under pressure.
I’d never seen him this undone.
“Tell me,” I said again, softer but sharper. “Why did you know my name?”
His jaw clenched so hard I heard it.
“You don’t understand what you’re asking.”
“Then make me understand.”
His eyes closed for half a second—like the request physically hurt him.
When they opened, the restraint was gone.
“You were already in danger before the night I took you,” he said. “I watched you because I had to.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one you’re getting.”
“No, it’s not.”
I stepped forward. “How long, Noxen?”
His breath hitched.
And then, without warning, he exploded.
“Three months!” he snarled.
The air crashed between us.
My stomach dropped.
He dragged a hand through his hair, pacing once like he couldn’t stand the walls closing in.
“Three months,” he repeated, quieter now, but somehow worse. “I’ve been watching you for three damn months, Vayra.”
I stared at him, throat tight.
“Why?”
He shook his head. “Because you don’t know who you are.”
“What does that—?”
“You don’t know what you are to him.”
The room froze around that word him but I couldn’t react to it yet.
My ears were still ringing with:
Three months.
“You’ve been following me,” I whispered. “Every day?”
His voice came out hoarse.
“Every day. Every night.”
My pulse stumbled.
“You shouldn’t have known me,” he said. “I shouldn’t have gotten close.”
“Why did you?”
He looked at me then really looked.
And for the first time, I saw it.
The thing beneath the control.
The thing beneath the cold.
Obsession.
Not violent.
Not romantic.
Not even rational.
Something older.
Darker.
Bound too tightly to unravel.
“I didn’t have a choice,” he said softly.
My breath caught.
“Noxen”
He cut me off, stepping back, closing himself up again. Walls slamming into place.
“You wanted the truth,” he rasped. “Now leave it alone.”
But his voice wasn’t steady.
His hands weren’t either.
And for the first time since he kidnapped me…
Noxen looked afraid.
Not of the enemy in the trees.
Not of the man hunting me.
But of the truth he’d just let slip.
- Writer
