Chapter 5:Past The Breaking point
862 Words
The Fire That Won’t Be Tamed
Lyia should have walked away.
She should have left Ronald alone to chase after Evelyn, to reassure her, to fall into the softness he seemed so desperate for.
But she didn’t.
Because she wasn’t soft.
She was the wild, untamed thing lurking in the shadows—the storm no one could control. And Ronald… he was the fool who kept trying to.
She waited, leaning against the tree, her pulse a wild drumbeat.
The moment Evelyn disappeared into the darkness, Ronan turned back to her.
And she knew.
She saw it in the way his chest rose and fell, the way his hands clenched at his sides.
He was on the edge.
“Say it,” she murmured.
His jaw tightened. “Say what?”
She tilted her head, smiling just enough to make him burn. “That you wanted it.”
His eyes darkened.
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “I told you—”
“You told me a lot of things, Ronald.” She pushed off the tree, stalking toward him. “That I was dangerous. That I was reckless. That I was nothing but a—”
Her breath caught as he moved.
One second, he was standing there, glaring at her like she was the most infuriating creature in the world.
The next—
Her back was slammed against the tree.
His body was against hers, his hand at her throat—not squeezing, just there, just enough to remind her how easily he could break her.
And gods, she loved it.
“Do you ever shut up?” he growled.
Lyia smirked, tilting her head just enough for his fingers to shift. “Make me.”
His grip tightened.
Her breath hitched.
For a moment, they didn’t move.
The tension between them was a tangible thing, hot and unbearable. His body was pressing against hers, his scent wrapping around her like smoke, and every inch of her was on fire.
Then, he snapped.
His lips crashed against hers—furious, demanding, reckless.
Lyia gasped, but he swallowed the sound, pressing her harder against the tree.
There was nothing gentle about it.
It was a clash of teeth and tongues, fire and fury. A war was fought between their lips, neither willing to yield.
Lyia dug her nails into his shoulders, dragging him closer, tasting his growl.
Gods, he was dangerous.
Not just because of his strength, but because of the way he kissed like he wanted to devour her.
Like he had spent too long fighting this, fighting her.
And now that he had given in, he didn’t know how to stop.
Her body arched against him, heat pooling low in her stomach as his hands skimmed down, gripping her waist, pulling her impossibly close.
The friction was intoxicating.
She could feel him—all of him.
And for a second, she wondered if he was going to take it further.
If he was going to drag her to the ground, tear her apart, claim her in the way she had always craved.
But then—
A snap echoed through the trees.
They froze.
A second later, a chilling presence slithered into the air.
Lyia’s stomach dropped.
The scent of sorcery filled her lungs—thick, dark, and familiar.
Ronald snarled, spinning to face the treeline, positioning himself between her and the unseen threat.
And then—
A voice.
Cold. Sweet. Poisonous.
“My, my,” it purred. “What a beautiful disaster you two are.”
Lyia’s blood ran ice cold.
Because she knew that voice.
And so did Ronald.
His entire body tensed, his breathing ragged.
A figure stepped out of the shadows, wrapped in inky darkness, her golden eyes glowing like dying embers.
The witch.
The one who had cursed Ronald.
The one who had been watching them all along.
Her lips curled into a smile.
“Oh, Alpha,” she murmured, tilting her head. “Did you really think you could have them both?”
The ground beneath them shuddered.
Lyia’s breath hitched. Magic.
Ronald didn’t move, his body taut like a predator ready to strike.
But the witch just sighed, shaking her head. “Tsk, tsk. Such a shame.” Her glowing gaze flickered to Lyia. “I see why you want to break him, little wolf. You and I—we’re not so different, are we?”
Lyia and bared her teeth, a growl rumbling in her chest.
But the witch only laughed.
And then, her gaze shifted—to something behind them.
Lyia stiffened.
Ronald’s breath caught.
Slowly, as if in a nightmare, they turned.
And there she was.
Evelyn.
Standing a few feet away, her face pale, her eyes glowing.
And between her fingertips—
A flickering thread of magic.
Lyia’s heart slammed against her ribs.
“Evelyn?” she whispered.
Evelyn’s lips trembled.
She looked at them—at Ronald, at Lyia—her gaze clouded, torn.
And then, in a voice that was barely above a breath—
“I… I can’t stop it.”
Lyia’s blood ran cold.
The witch’s smile widened.
And the world erupted into chaos.
- Writer
