Chapter 2: The Mistake
900 Words
This is a mistake.
The thought still echoed in his mind—
Heavy. Certain.
And yet—
He didn’t walk away.
Across the street, her voice broke again.
“…please…”
Weak.
Barely there.
But enough.
His jaw tightened.
His fingers curled slowly at his sides.
'Walk away'.
He didn’t move.
This is not your concern.
Still—
Nothing.
Something inside him shifted.
Dark. Reluctant. Unwilling.
And then—
He exhaled.
“…Pathetic,” he muttered.
Not at her.
At himself.
And then—
He moved.
---
“Let her go.”
His voice cut through the night.
Low.
Cold.
The men froze.
“…Who the hell are you?” one of them scoffed.
He didn’t answer.
His gaze flickered briefly to her—
And something inside him stilled.
She looked worse up close.
Far worse.
Pale.
Shaking.
Her lips parted as she struggled to breathe.
Her eyes barely open—
Holding onto consciousness by a thread.
Something dark stirred beneath his ribs.
Slow.
Unforgiving.
He turned back to them.
“I won’t repeat myself.”
Silence stretched.
Then—
“Or what?” the man sneered.
That was enough.
He moved.
Fast.
A crack split the air.
One body dropped instantly.
The other was slammed against the wall, his breath knocked out.
A hand tightened around his throat.
“You chose the wrong prey,” he whispered.
Fear filled the man’s eyes.
Real fear.
“…please—”
“…Pathetic.”
He released him.
The man collapsed and ran.
Silence returned.
Cold.
Heavy.
--
And then—
He turned.
She swayed.
Her balance breaking.
Her body finally giving in.
“…you…” she whispered.
And then—
She fell.
---
This time—
There was no thought.
No decision.
No hesitation.
His body moved before his mind even realized what was happening.
Before reason could catch up—
Before he could stop himself—
He was already there.
Catching her.
Pulling her into him.
Like it was instinct.
Like it was inevitable.
His grip tightened slightly as her weight collapsed against him.
Light.
Fragile.
His jaw clenched.
“…No,” he breathed.
But it was already too late.
Her head rested weakly against his chest.
Her breath warm.
Uneven.
And then—
He heard it.
Her heartbeat.
Unsteady.
Alive.
It echoed through him.
Too loud.
Too close.
Too—
Dangerous.
His entire body went still.
Because now that he noticed it—
He couldn’t ignore it.
His gaze dropped.
Slowly.
Unwillingly.
To her neck.
Pale skin.
Bare.
A faint pulse fluttering beneath it.
Calling to him.
His throat tightened.
Hunger rose—sharp, immediate, uncontrollable.
Stronger than before.
Stronger than anything he had felt tonight.
“…This is why,” he whispered roughly, “you don’t touch them.”
But he didn’t let go.
Didn’t step back.
Instead—
His fingers shifted slightly.
Tilting her head.
Exposing more of her throat.
A mistake.
A dangerous one.
Her lips parted faintly.
A soft breath slipped out—
Warm against his skin.
His control slipped with it.
His body leaned closer.
Slowly.
Like something pulling him in.
His face hovered near her neck.
So close he could feel the heat of her skin.
His lips almost brushed her.
His fangs ached.
A deep, burning need clawed through him.
One second.
That was all it would take.
One second—
And she would be gone.
Like all the others.
Nothing more than a memory he wouldn’t even keep.
His fingers tightened around her.
“You’re weak,” he whispered harshly. “Pathetic.”
But the word didn’t land.
Not properly.
Because something was wrong.
Her heartbeat—
It faltered.
Not from fear.
From weakness.
From something too fragile to break further.
And instead of pulling him closer—
It stopped him.
Something twisted inside his chest.
Sharp.
Unfamiliar.
Almost painful.
His eyes shut tightly.
And suddenly—
He pulled back.
Fast.
Like he had burned himself.
A harsh breath escaped him.
“…What are you doing?” he muttered under his breath.
Not to her.
To himself.
His grip loosened—
But he didn’t drop her.
Slowly—
Carefully—
He lowered her to the ground.
Too carefully.
Too controlled.
As if distance could fix this.
Erase this.
He stepped back immediately.
His jaw tight.
His gaze fixed on her.
On the rise and fall of her chest.
On the life still in her.
Still his—
But he didn’t take it.
“…You should have been nothing,” he said quietly.
Snow fell between them.
Soft.
Endless.
He turned.
Took a step—
Stopped.
Behind him—
She stirred.
A faint breath.
“…don’t go…”
The words were weak.
Barely sound.
But they reached him.
Of course they did.
His entire body went still.
Again.
Slower this time.
He didn’t turn fully.
Didn’t move closer.
But he didn’t leave either.
His voice came out lower now.
Darker.
Unstable.
“…You don’t even know what you’re asking.”
A pause.
His gaze dropped slightly—
To her throat.
To that pulse.
Still there.
Still calling.
Still dangerous.
His jaw tightened.
And then—
Quietly—
Like a promise he shouldn’t make—
“…If I stay…”
A breath.
Something breaking again.
“…you won’t survive it.”
And this time—
He forced himself to leave.
Before instinct pulled him back.
Before control failed completely.
Before he proved himself right.
- Writer
