🩸 CHAPTER 7 — The Pull
1128 Words
Mara left first.
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She didn’t wait for him to say anything else.
Didn’t give him the chance.
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The elevator doors closed between them with a soft slide.
And only then—
Only then—
Did she breathe properly.
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Her chest rose sharply.
Once.
Twice.
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“Stupid,” she muttered under her breath.
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She pressed her fingers lightly against her temple.
Trying to steady the noise in her head.
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That had gone too far.
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Not physically.
Not technically.
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But something had shifted.
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And she felt it.
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The elevator doors opened.
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Her floor.
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Safe.
Or at least—
Safer.
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Mara stepped out quickly, her pace faster than before.
More deliberate.
More controlled.
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She reached her door.
Opened it.
Stepped inside.
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And shut it behind her.
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Silence.
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But not the same silence as before.
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This one wasn’t watching.
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This one was waiting.
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Mara leaned back against the door, closing her eyes briefly.
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“That was a mistake,” she said quietly.
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No answer.
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Of course not.
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Because he wasn’t here.
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And that—
That should have made it easier.
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It didn’t.
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She pushed off the door and moved into the room, running a hand through her hair.
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“You’re reacting,” she told herself.
“That’s all this is.”
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Adrenaline.
Control.
Proximity.
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Not him.
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Definitely not him.
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She stopped mid-step.
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That wasn’t true.
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And she knew it.
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Mara exhaled slowly, her gaze drifting—unintentionally—toward the corner of the room.
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The camera.
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Still there.
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Still watching.
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Her jaw tightened.
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“You enjoy this?” she asked.
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Silence.
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Then—
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“Yes.”
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Her eyes narrowed slightly.
“You’re not even trying to hide it.”
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“No.”
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Of course not.
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Mara walked toward the center of the room, slower this time.
More aware.
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“You always this honest?” she asked.
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“When it’s useful.”
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“And this is useful?”
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A pause.
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“Yes.”
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She let out a quiet breath.
“Right.”
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Silence stretched.
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Then—
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“You left.”
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Mara froze slightly.
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Not physically.
But internally.
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“Yes,” she said.
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“You didn’t have to.”
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Her fingers curled slightly at her sides.
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“I wanted to.”
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A beat.
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“No.”
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Her eyes narrowed.
“Excuse me?”
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“You needed to.”
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That hit differently.
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Mara turned slowly, her gaze locking onto the camera.
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“Don’t do that.”
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“Do what?”
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“Rewrite my decisions.”
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“I don’t rewrite them,” he said calmly.
“I understand them.”
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Her pulse ticked up again.
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“You don’t get to decide what I feel.”
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“No,” he agreed.
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A pause.
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“But I can see it.”
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Silence.
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That—
That was worse.
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Mara shook her head once.
“You’re impossible.”
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“No.”
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A beat.
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“You’re predictable.”
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Her breath caught.
Just slightly.
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“I’m not predictable.”
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“You left because you lost control of the situation.”
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Her jaw tightened.
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“You came back because you want it back.”
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Silence.
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Mara didn’t respond.
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Because he wasn’t wrong.
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And that—
That irritated her more than anything else.
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“You think this is about control?” she asked quietly.
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“Yes.”
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“It’s not.”
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A pause.
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“Then what is it?”
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Mara opened her mouth—
Then stopped.
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Because she didn’t have an answer she trusted.
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Silence filled the space again.
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Then—
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“You’re still thinking about it.”
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Her chest tightened.
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“About what?”
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A pause.
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“Me.”
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Her breath stalled.
Just for a second.
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Then she scoffed lightly.
“Don’t flatter yourself.”
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“I’m not.”
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The certainty in his voice—
Again—
Unsettled her.
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Mara looked away.
Toward the window.
Toward the city.
Anywhere but the camera.
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“You’re in my space,” she said.
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“Yes.”
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“You’re watching everything.”
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“Yes.”
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“You’re controlling the situation.”
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“Yes.”
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A pause.
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“Then why does it feel like I’m the one deciding things?” she asked quietly.
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Silence.
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Longer this time.
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Then—
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“Because I’m letting you.”
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Her head snapped back toward the camera.
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“That’s not how that works.”
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“It is here.”
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Her pulse spiked.
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“Why?”
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A beat.
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Then—
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“Because I want to see what you choose.”
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That—
That hit deeper than it should have.
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Mara swallowed slowly.
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“And if I choose wrong?” she asked.
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A pause.
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Then—
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“You won’t.”
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Too confident.
Too certain.
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Mara shook her head slightly.
“You don’t know that.”
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“I do.”
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Silence stretched again.
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Heavy.
Charged.
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Then—
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“Come back upstairs.”
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Her breath hitched.
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“No.”
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Immediate.
Firm.
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A pause.
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“Why?”
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“Because I just left.”
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“That’s not a reason.”
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“It is.”
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Silence.
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Then—
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“You’re thinking about it.”
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Her fingers curled again.
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“No, I’m not.”
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A beat.
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“Yes, you are.”
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Mara exhaled sharply.
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“This isn’t a game.”
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“No.”
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A pause.
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“It’s not.”
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Something in his tone—
Lower.
Closer.
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More dangerous.
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Mara walked toward the door.
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Stopped.
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Her hand hovered over the handle.
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She shouldn’t.
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She knew she shouldn’t.
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That was the point.
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“Don’t,” she told herself quietly.
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Silence.
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Then—
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“Stay,” he said.
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Not a command.
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Not this time.
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Something else.
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Mara closed her eyes briefly.
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Then opened them.
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And pulled the door open.
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Because leaving him alone—
Was somehow harder than facing him again.
- Writer
