Chapter Twelve: The Boy in the Shadows
721 Words
He saw everything.
Luca leaned against the stairwell door, hidden in the shadows as Zara and Jace devoured each other on the rooftop like it was the end of the world. His jaw tightened, hands balled into fists in his jacket pockets. He shouldn’t have followed her. He knew that.
But he did.
He’d watched Zara spiral slowly, like a storm caught in a bottle. And just when he thought he could reach her — pull her back from whatever edge she kept dancing on — Jace Carter appeared. Like gasoline to her flame.
Luca should’ve walked away.
Instead, he listened. Watched.
Every kiss, every stolen breath.
He wanted to hate her for it. For choosing Jace. For giving her fire to someone else. But when she laughed into Jace’s mouth — soft and broken, like she hadn’t done it in years — something in Luca shattered instead.
That laugh used to belong to him.
And now? It was a weapon.
He turned and left, footsteps soundless. But rage followed like a shadow.
⸻
Back on the rooftop, Zara pulled back from Jace, dazed.
“We shouldn’t have done that,” she whispered, voice hoarse.
Jace ran his thumb along her jaw, his touch gentler now, less devouring. “Do you regret it?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “It’s just… you make me forget how to breathe.”
“Maybe that’s the point,” he murmured.
Zara looked down at the streetlights far below. Her heart still beat erratically, chest tight with more than just lust. She didn’t know what scared her more — the kiss they’d just shared, or how much she wanted it to happen again. And again. And again.
She needed to go.
“Don’t tell anyone,” she said suddenly, breaking the moment. “About this. About… me.”
His brow furrowed. “Zara—”
“Promise me, Jace.”
His jaw clenched, but he nodded. “I won’t say a word.”
She nodded, stepping away like every inch between them was armor being reattached.
And then she disappeared down the stairs, leaving Jace alone with the echo of her kiss and the weight of too many secrets.
⸻
Three Days Later…
Zara had avoided him.
In the halls, at the quad, even in Lit class — she vanished before he could reach her. Jace had never chased anyone. That wasn’t his style. But something about Zara made him restless. Possessive. Like he’d tasted something addictive and now couldn’t get enough.
And then, just after midnight, he got the message:
Z: Meet me at the pool. No one else. Don’t be late.
He was already halfway there before he realized he hadn’t replied.
⸻
The pool was silent — drained, abandoned for the season.
Zara sat at the edge in an oversized black sweatshirt, legs dangling where the water used to be. Her hair was up, messy. Her face unreadable in the moonlight.
“You came,” she said softly.
“I always will.”
She swallowed. “I don’t know what this is between us.”
“Does it have to be something?”
She turned to him sharply. “Yes, Jace. It does. Because I don’t… do casual. I’m not some story you collect.”
His voice was steady. “I never wanted to collect you.”
They sat in silence.
Then she looked at him — really looked. “I’m scared of you.”
That cut deeper than he expected.
“Why?”
“Because I think you could ruin me.”
Jace moved closer, their knees almost touching. “Maybe I could. But I’d rather break myself for you first.”
Zara blinked, tears threatening but never falling. And then — finally — she reached for him.
No words this time. Just lips meeting again.
But slower now.
Desperate, but gentle. Fingers tangled in hair, a soft sigh shared in secret. He pulled her into his lap, and she wrapped around him like she belonged there.
Their kisses weren’t innocent. They were full of hunger. Full of want.
But more than anything — they were full of fear. Fear that this fragile thing between them might not survive what was coming.
Because in the distance, someone else had already lit the match.
And the fire was spreading.
- Writer
