Chapter 8_His To Break
481 Words
Evi knew she shouldn’t go.
She should’ve ignored him.
Should’ve walked home.
Should’ve told Zara she was busy.
Should’ve done anything but this.
But there she was — after school, behind the gym, where the trees grew thick and wild, casting long shadows over cracked pavement.
And there he was.
Lucien leaned against the trunk of a tree like he owned the entire forest — black uniform jacket open, tie undone, a single silver ring glinting on his finger.
> “You came,” he said, voice low.
> “I shouldn’t have,” she replied.
> “But you did.”
She hated how he said it. Like he already knew her insides. Like he knew she couldn’t stay away.
> “Why are you here?” she asked. “Why this school? Why now?”
> “Because I was tired of watching from the shadows,” he said simply. “Tired of pretending I didn’t want you.”
Her heart stumbled.
> “You don’t know me.”
He stepped forward.
> “I’ve watched you,” he said. “For weeks. You talk to yourself when you're nervous. You wear your headphones even when they’re dead just to avoid conversation. You read late at night — mostly fantasy, sometimes poetry. You hate tomatoes. You bite your lip when you lie. And you’re lying right now.”
> “About what?” she whispered.
> “About not wanting me back.”
He was too close.
Way too close.
And then — he was behind her.
So fast she didn’t see it. Just felt the rush of wind, the heat at her back.
His breath brushed her ear.
> “You smell like moonlight.”
> “That doesn’t make sense.”
> “Neither do I,” he murmured.
She turned, suddenly breathless.
> “This isn’t a game,” she said. “You’re… you’re not human.”
He didn’t deny it.
Didn’t flinch.
Instead, he reached for her hand. Turned it palm-up. Pressed it flat against his chest.
No heartbeat.
Just stillness.
Silk and stone.
Something ancient beneath skin.
> “I was born in blood,” he said. “Raised in war. I’ve tasted every kind of power and pleasure this world can offer — except the kind you make me feel.”
> “Why me?” she asked, voice cracking.
> “Because you’re real. Because you burn. Because you’re the one thing I was never supposed to want.”
He stepped back just slightly — just enough to meet her eyes fully.
> “Evi…” he said, softer now. “You don’t have to trust me. Just don’t run.”
> “Why?”
> “Because if you run, I will chase you.”
And then…
He vanished.
Like smoke into the wind.
Leaving her flushed, shaken, and wanting.
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- Writer
