I'M SORRY
2046 Words
THE PACT OF FIVE
CHAPTER 7: I'M SORRY
The library door clicks shut behind me, the heavy oak settling into place with a finality that feels like a lock on my heart. The fire has burned down to embers, casting long shadows across the Persian rug, and the scent of old books and polished wood wraps around me like a blanket. I press my back against the door, my breath coming in shallow gasps. My lips still tingle from Knox’s kiss, my body still hums from his touch, and my mind is a goddamn warzone.
*Twenty-four days.*
That’s all that’s left.
I slide down the door until my ass hits the floor, the cool wood a stark contrast to the heat still burning under my skin. The library’s vastness makes me feel small, vulnerable. The towering bookshelves seem to lean in, whispering secrets I’m not ready to hear.
The last twenty-four hours have been a fucking whirlwind. Knox’s note. His kiss. Micah in my shower. Knox’s *promise.* And now this—this *ache* in my chest that won’t quit.
I pull my knees to my chest, wrapping my arms around them. The silk of my pajama pants is soft against my skin, but it does nothing to soothe the storm inside me.
The door creaks open.
I freeze, my heart leaping into my throat. I don’t even have to look to know it’s him. I can *feel* Cole’s presence like a warm breeze on a cold night. His scent—whiskey and sunlight—fills the air, and I swallow hard, my fingers tightening around my knees.
He doesn’t speak at first. Just steps inside, shutting the door behind him with a quiet click. The firelight flickers across his face, highlighting the guilt in his green eyes, the tension in his jaw.
I look away, staring at the dying embers in the fireplace. "What do you want, Cole?"
He exhales sharply, like the words are being dragged out of him. "To talk."
I let out a bitter laugh. "Funny. You didn’t seem to want to talk last night when your mouth was on mine."
He flinches, the sound almost inaudible. "Lena—"
"Save it," I snap, but my voice wavers. I don’t want to hear his excuses. I don’t want to hear his *apologies.* Because the truth is, I *liked* it. I *wanted* it. And that’s what terrifies me.
He sinks to his knees in front of me, his hands hovering like he wants to touch me but doesn’t dare. "I *am* sorry."
I finally look at him. Really look. His golden hair is messy, like he’s been running his hands through it all night. His green eyes are bloodshot, dark circles beneath them. He looks like he hasn’t slept. Like he’s been *suffering.*
And *f**k*, that does something to me.
"Sorry for what, Cole?" I challenge, my voice softer now. "Sorry you kissed me? Or sorry you got caught?"
His hand reaches out, his fingers brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. His touch is gentle, hesitant. "Sorry I *broke* the pact."
I close my eyes, his fingers sending a shiver down my spine. "And what about *me?* Are you sorry you kissed *me?*"
He doesn’t answer right away. And that *hurts* more than any lie could.
Finally, his voice is a whisper. "No."
My eyes fly open. He’s watching me, his gaze *raw*, his truth laid bare. "I’m not sorry I kissed you, Lena. I’m sorry I *stopped.*"
My breath catches. The air between us is thick, charged with something electric. Something *dangerous.*
I should push him away. Should remind him of the pact, of the rules, of the *consequences.* But I don’t. I just sit there, my heart hammering, my body aching for his touch.
His hand cups my cheek, his thumb brushing away a tear I didn’t even realize had fallen. "I’ve *wanted* you for years, Lena. And every day, it gets *harder* to stay away."
I swallow hard. "Then why *did* you? Why the pact?"
His jaw tightens. "Because we *needed* it. Because without it, we would’ve *torn each other apart* trying to claim you. And you…" His voice breaks. "You weren’t ready."
I let out a shaky laugh. "And now?"
His eyes darken. "Now you *are.*"
The words hang between us, heavy with promise. With *desire.*
I should look away. Should *breathe.* But I can’t. I’m trapped in his gaze, in the heat of his touch, in the *truth* of his words.
His other hand slides around my waist, pulling me closer. His breath is warm against my lips. "I *missed* you last night."
I whimper, my hands flying to his chest. "Cole—"
"Tell me to stop," he murmurs, his voice rough. "Tell me to *leave.*"
I *should.* I *know* I should. But the words won’t come.
Because the truth is, I *don’t* want him to stop.
His lips brush mine, a whisper of a kiss. A *promise.* "I *need* you, Lena."
And *God help me*, I need him too.
But then—
The library door *bursts* open.
We spring apart like we’ve been *burned.*
Knox stands in the doorway, his dark eyes *black* with rage, his body rigid. Behind him, Jax, Zane, and Micah fill the space, their expressions a mix of *fury* and *betrayal.*
Knox’s voice is a *whip-crack.* "Get your *f**king* hands off her, Cole."
Cole’s grip on me *tightens* for a second, his jaw *clenching.* But then he lets go, standing up slowly, his hands raised like he’s surrendering. "We were just—"
"*Talking?*" Knox snarls, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Is that what you call it?"
Jax’s smirk is *dark.* "Looks like *more* than talking to me."
Zane doesn’t say anything. He just *watches* me, his gray eyes *cold,* his expression unreadable.
And Micah? Micah just *grins,* like this is the *best* damn show in town.
Cole’s voice is steady, but his eyes are *wild.* "It’s not what you think."
Knox takes a step forward, his dark eyes *burning* into me. "Then what the *f**k* is it?"
I stand up, my legs *shaking.* I should be *furious.* I should be *screaming.* But all I feel is this *ache*, this *need* coiling tighter in my stomach.
I lift my chin, meeting Knox’s gaze. "It’s *none* of your business."
Knox’s jaw *clenches.* "The *fuck* it isn’t."
Cole steps between us, his body a shield. "Back off, Knox."
Knox’s laugh is *dark.* "Or what? You’ll *kiss* me too?"
Jax barks out a laugh. "Now *that’s* a show I’d pay to see."
Micah grins. "I’d sell tickets."
Zane just *watches,* his expression unreadable.
But Knox? Knox’s eyes are *locked* on me, his voice a *growl.* "You’re *playing* with fire, Lena."
I meet his gaze, my heart *hammering.* "Maybe I *like* the burn."
And then I *walk* past them all, my head held high, my body *trembling* with every step.
Because the *worst* part?
I *know* they’re right.
And in twenty-four days, I broke the pact. And the worst part? I’d do it again."
- Writer
