Chapter 15 — When He Finally Loses Control
639 Words
It happened in the alley.
Narrow. Wet. Quiet enough to hear the city breathing above us.
I felt it before I saw it—the sudden tightening of the air, the way his shadows stopped following him and instead spread. Like they were no longer waiting for permission.
“Stop,” I said softly.
He didn’t.
His steps slowed, shoulders rigid, jaw clenched so tightly I could hear his teeth grind.
“I told you,” he said, voice low and strained, “crowds amplify it.”
“And alleys don’t?” I snapped.
He turned.
The look in his eyes stole the breath from my lungs.
This wasn’t restraint.
This was barely contained hunger—not just for me, but for control, for silence, for dominance over a world that suddenly felt too loud.
“Don’t move,” he said.
The command hit my spine like a shock.
I froze.
Not because I wanted to.
Because the mark answered.
Shadows slammed into the brick walls behind me, sealing the alley off from the street. The city noise dulled instantly, as if reality itself had stepped back.
“That’s not fair,” I whispered, pulse racing.
“No,” he agreed hoarsely. “It’s not.”
He dragged a hand down his face, breath uneven. “You don’t understand what you’re doing to me.”
“Then explain it,” I said.
He took one step closer.
The air grew heavy—charged, intimate, dangerous. Every instinct screamed at me to run and lean forward at the same time.
“You’re inside my death,” he said. “Inside my power. Every time you look at me like that—every time you want—it pulls me closer to what I was before they buried me.”
Another step.
“You feel it,” he continued. “How easy it would be to let go.”
My throat tightened. “You said you wouldn’t touch me unless I chose it.”
“I know,” he said.
His hands trembled at his sides.
“That’s why I’m afraid.”
The shadows surged violently, cracking the pavement beneath our feet. A nearby streetlight exploded, plunging the alley into darkness lit only by the faint glow of my mark.
I gasped.
“Look at me,” I said. “Not the power. Me.”
For a heartbeat, he didn’t respond.
Then his gaze snapped to mine.
The shadows stilled.
His breathing slowed—ragged, but human.
“You anchor me,” he said softly. “And you undo me.”
I took a careful step forward. The mark burned—not painfully, but insistently.
“I won’t disappear into this,” I said. “And neither will you.”
His control snapped—not outward, but inward.
The shadows collapsed back into him violently, knocking him to one knee. He let out a sound I’d never heard before—raw, broken, furious with himself.
I rushed to him without thinking.
The moment my hands touched his shoulders, the world clicked.
Solid.
Real.
His forehead dropped against my stomach, breath uneven.
“Don’t ever use that power on me again,” he said quietly.
“I didn’t mean to.”
“I know,” he replied. “That’s the worst part.”
Sirens wailed somewhere nearby—too close.
He looked up sharply. “They felt that.”
“Who?” I asked.
His expression hardened.
“Everyone who’s been waiting for me to lose control.”
He stood, pulling me with him, shadows already tightening around us—not wild now, but purposeful.
“Next time,” he said, voice dark and steady, “I might not stop myself in time.”
My wrist pulsed.
Not fear.
Anticipation.
And somewhere beneath the city, something smiled.
- Writer
