chapter 11
894 Words
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Chapter Eleven: Splinters Beneath the Skin
The hallways were quiet.
Too quiet.
Even the wind seemed hesitant to press against the windows of Duskfall that night, as if the world knew it was a night meant for reckoning.
Seraphina walked the marble corridor in silence, arms crossed, her bare feet brushing against cool stone. She couldn’t sleep — not after what she had seen. Not after the obsidian stone shattered and revealed the fourth’s looming presence.
And most of all — not after the way the Alphas had looked at her since then.
Like she was becoming something they couldn’t follow.
Or protect.
Or keep.
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She reached the end of the hall where the library arched beneath the towers.
The moonlight spilled across the stained glass, painting her skin in fractured silver and blue.
She turned to leave — only to find Alfred standing behind her, silent as breath.
She gasped softly.
“I didn’t hear you.”
He didn’t move. “You rarely do.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Are you following me?”
“No,” he said quietly. “I’m watching you.”
“Same thing.”
“No,” he repeated. “One is to chase. The other is to protect.”
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They stood in stillness.
Tension like a tight string between them.
“I thought you were the last person who believed I needed protection,” she said, crossing her arms.
“I didn’t,” Alfred said. “Until now.”
She turned toward the window. “Because of him?”
“Because of you.”
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He stepped forward.
Carefully.
Deliberately.
“I’ve spent my entire life reading patterns. People. Their tells. Their fears. I build battle plans on knowing what my enemies will do before they even breathe.”
She said nothing.
“But I look at you now... and I don’t recognize you.”
His voice dropped. “And that terrifies me.”
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Seraphina turned back, her heart squeezing.
“You think I’m becoming something unlovable.”
Alfred flinched, just barely. “No. I think you’re becoming something untouchable.”
She stared at him.
He looked tired. More than tired.
For once, he wasn’t armored. His shirt was half-unbuttoned. His dark hair mussed from pacing. No boots. No gloves. No control.
Only Alfred — bare and human.
And the sight of it made something in her chest ache.
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“I didn’t choose this,” she whispered.
“I know,” he said. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t lose you to it.”
She stepped toward him now.
One step. Two.
And something about her closeness made his breath catch.
“You don’t lose what you never had, Alfred,” she said softly.
His jaw tensed.
Then — “Don’t say that.”
“It’s true.”
“No,” he snapped, stepping toward her now, heat flaring in his eyes. “You don’t get to tell me I never had you. Not when I’ve watched you. Fought for you. Burned in silence for you while the others made noise.”
Her chest rose sharply. “So what? You want credit for keeping your distance?”
“I want a chance,” he breathed. “Before you choose something not even of this world.”
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Silence.
Raw. Exposed.
Then she did something that startled both of them.
She raised her hand… and placed it on his chest.
His heartbeat was thunder.
Alive. Fast. Real.
“You always talk like you’re made of stone,” she murmured, “but this—” she pressed gently, “—says something else.”
He caught her wrist gently, but didn’t pull it away.
“That’s the problem,” he said.
“What is?”
“I didn’t want to feel anything.”
“And now?”
He leaned closer, forehead almost against hers.
“I feel everything.”
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The air shifted.
She could feel his restraint burning between them like a fuse. His breath was warm. His mouth barely inches from hers. His fingers trembled against her skin.
One more second and they would—
“Seraphina!”
The voice tore through the hallway like a blade.
Richard.
She froze.
So did Alfred.
Footsteps echoed from the stone corridor.
Alfred stepped back immediately, jaw clenched.
The moment—shattered.
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Richard appeared in the archway, his brows drawn.
His gaze flicked from her to Alfred — and it didn’t take a genius to piece the moment together.
Seraphina stepped back. “It’s nothing.”
Richard’s eyes darkened. “Didn’t look like nothing.”
Alfred said nothing, already pulling his composure back around him like armor.
Richard’s fists clenched. “You can’t have her.”
“I’m not yours to give,” Seraphina said sharply.
Richard flinched.
But she wasn’t done.
“You’re all so worried about who gets to stand beside me that none of you have thought to ask whether I want any of you at all.”
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The silence after that was deafening.
Then Seraphina turned.
And walked away.
Alone.
Again.
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Back in the shadows of the hallway, Alfred leaned against the stone, eyes shut.
His hands shook.
Because for the first time in his life…
He had no plan.
And for once, he wanted someone he couldn’t control.
And that, more than anything, terrified him.
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- Writer
