YOU'RE GOING TO BREAK US
1696 Words
THE PACT OF FIVE
CHAPTER 14: YOU'RE GOING TO BREAK US
The library at Blackthorn Manor is my sanctuary, but tonight it feels like a *cage.* The towering bookshelves, usually comforting, now seem to lean in, their shadows stretching long and menacing across the polished hardwood floor. The fire in the hearth has burned down to embers, casting a dim, flickering glow across the room, and the scent of old paper and leather is thick in the air. I’ve been sitting here for hours, a glass of whiskey untouched on the table beside me, my mind racing.
*Jax in my bed. Knox’s rage. Cole’s guilt. Zane’s fear.*
And *me*—the girl who’s supposed to be the *glue* holding them all together, but instead feels like the *bomb* about to tear them apart.
I take a sip of the whiskey, the liquid burning my throat, but it does nothing to dull the ache in my chest. The ice has long since melted, the water diluting the amber liquid, but I don’t care. I just need *something* to ground me.
The grand clock on the wall ticks loudly, each second a reminder of the countdown that’s been haunting me. *Eighteen days.* Eighteen days until the pact ends. Eighteen days until the world as I know it *explodes.*
I close my eyes, my head falling back against the leather of the armchair. I can still *feel* Jax’s hands on me, his lips on mine, his *defiance* in the air. I can still *hear* Knox’s voice, a whip-crack of rage. I can still *see* the way Cole’s eyes darkened with guilt, Zane’s with fear.
And Micah... *Micah’s* been quiet. Too quiet.
That’s what scares me the most.
The library door creaks open, and I don’t even have to look to know it’s him. I can *feel* Micah’s presence like a warm breeze, his scent—bergamot and bourbon—cutting through the heavy air of the room.
He doesn’t speak at first. Just *watches* me, his footsteps silent on the rug as he crosses the room. I open my eyes, watching as he pours himself a glass of whiskey, the amber liquid sloshing against the crystal. He takes a sip, his throat working, his eyes never leaving mine.
Finally, he sets the glass down with a *clink* and leans against the desk, his arms crossed over his chest. His usual smirk is *gone*, replaced by a *frown*, his brown eyes *dark* with something I’ve never seen in him before—*worry.*
"You look like hell, *sweetheart.*"
I let out a bitter laugh. "Thanks."
He doesn’t smile. Doesn’t *joke.* And that’s when I *know*—this isn’t the Micah I’m used to. This is something *else.* Something *serious.*
He pushes off the desk, striding toward me with a purpose that makes my stomach *clench.* He stops in front of me, his hands gripping the arms of my chair, caging me in. His scent wraps around me, intoxicating and *dangerous.*
"Talk to me, Lena."
I shake my head, my voice a whisper. "What do you want me to say, Micah?"
His jaw *clenches.* "The *truth.*"
I close my eyes, my voice breaking. "*I don’t know what that is anymore.*"
His fingers *tighten* on the chair, his voice a growl. "Bullshit."
I open my eyes, my gaze locking onto his. And for the first time, I see it—the *fear* beneath his usual humor. The *vulnerability* he hides so well.
I take a shaky breath. "I *want* them, Micah. All of them. And I don’t know how to *stop.*"
His eyes *darken.* "Then *don’t.*"
I shake my head. "It’s not that *simple.*"
His laugh is *bitter.* "Since when do you *care* about simple?"
I look away, my voice a whisper. "Since it started *hurting* people."
He’s silent for a long moment. And when he speaks again, his voice is *raw*, his words hitting me like a punch to the gut. "You’re *going* to break us, Lena."
My breath *catches.* The words hang between us, heavy with *truth*, with *fear.* With *inevitability.*
I look up at him, my eyes *burning.* "I don’t *want* to."
His fingers slide to my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. And for the first time, I see the *pain* in his eyes. The *betrayal.* "But you *will.*"
I swallow hard, my voice a whisper. "Then *stop* me."
His laugh is *dark.* "You know I *can’t.*"
I close my eyes, my voice breaking. "*Why not?*"
His thumb brushes my bottom lip, his voice a dark caress. "Because I *want* you too, *sweetheart.* And I’d rather *burn* with you than live without you."
I open my eyes, my heart *hammering.* And that’s when I see it—the *tears* in his eyes. The *fear.* The *love.*
His other hand slides to my nape, pulling me into his arms, his body *hard* and *warm* against mine. I press my face into his chest, his heartbeat steady under my ear, his scent *intoxicating* me.
"You *terrify* me, Lena," he murmurs, his voice rough. "Because I *know* what you’re capable of. I *know* what you’re doing to us. And I *know* I can’t *stop* it."
I pull back, my eyes searching his. "And what if I *don’t* want to stop it?"
His jaw *clenches.* "Then we’re all *f**ked.*"
I let out a shaky breath. "*Probably.*"
His lips brush my forehead, his voice a whisper. "But *God*, it’s gonna be *beautiful.*"
And then he’s *gone*, leaving me sitting there, my heart *pounding,* my body *trembling* with a need I don’t even understand.
Because the *worst* part?
Micah is right.
I *am* going to break them.
And I don’t know if I *care.*
- Writer
