Chapter 9: The urge to kill
1120 Words
The Next Day
Morningstar’s Condo, Adeline’s Room
Catherine barged into Adeline’s room without knocking, clutching Kian’s black hoodie like it was something poisonous.
“What is this?” she demanded, her eyes sharp.
Adeline, half-asleep, groaned from under her blanket. “What is it this time, Cat? I’m still exhausted from yesterday’s party.”
“I said, what is this?” Catherine repeated, waving the hoodie in the air.
“Huh? What?” Adeline mumbled, rubbing her eyes.
“Who owns it?” Catherine asked again, voice rising.
Adeline muttered lazily, “Maybe yours.” But when her eyes finally focused, she froze. In a flash, she jumped up, snatched the hoodie out of Catherine’s hands, and shoved it into her wardrobe.
“So it is important, then,” Catherine said slowly, a suspicious look on her face. “Now… will you tell me who owns it?”
Adeline rolled her eyes . “calm your butts babe .”
Catherine crossed her arms. “l'm listening"
“It’s from Kian,” Adeline admitted softly. “Kian Alpha.”
Catherine’s jaw dropped. “What?! You know we’re not supposed to even associate with them!”
“I know,” Adeline hissed back but who cares.
Catherine blinked, then forced her tone calmer. “Fine. But… are you two close? Or…” her eyes narrowed slightly, “…you're flirting?”
“What? No!” Adeline snapped, louder than she meant to.
Catherine let out a fake laugh, trying to play it off, but inside her chest burned. “Good,” she muttered, though her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.
Adeline sighed. “I don’t even know if we’re close. Just… forget it, Cat. Please.” She pulled the blanket over her head again.
Catherine lingered a moment longer, staring at the wardrobe where the hoodie was hidden. Then she leaned forward and asked one last time, teasing but with a sharp edge:
“So… do you wanna play him or what ?”
“Relax. He’s not my type.” Adeline replied, muffled under the blanket.
Catherine chuckled, then turned and left. But once the door shut behind her, her expression hardened.
She whispered under her breath, “If only you knew how much I wanted him too.”
:
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Sophia’s House
Kian had brought Sophia home from the pool party the night before and stayed through the night to make sure she was fine.
“Oh my God, why did I have to get so drunk? My head is killing me,” Sophia groaned from the bedroom.
Kian leaned against the doorframe with a small smile. “Hey, you’re awake.”
Her eyes widened. “Wait you’re here?”
“Of course, silly. How do you think you got home?” he teased, tapping her head playfully.
Sophia covered her face in embarrassment. “Oh my God… I’ve never been drunk like that in my whole life. I hope I didn’t make a fool of myself.”
Kian smirked. “You really did. I remember you flirting with half the guys at the party.”
“What? No!” Sophia gasped dramatically, throwing a pillow at him.
He laughed, dodging it. “Oh yes. You totally did.”
“Stop!” she shrieked, grabbing another pillow and launching it at him. Before long, they were in the middle of a playful pillow fight, Sophia chasing him across the room while Kian ducked and weaved, laughing.
Then, in the chaos, Sophia tripped. Kian tried to steady her but ended up falling too landing over her by the waist. For a split second, their faces were just inches apart.
Sophia froze, staring into his eyes, her breath caught. And in that tiny space between them, her memory flickered back to last night: {her lips pressed against his, the way he hadn’t pulled away until the alcohol excuse made it easy to dismiss.}
But before she could say anything, Kian pulled back abruptly, rolling onto the floor beside her as if nothing had happened.
An awkward silence filled the room.
“So… uh, when do we have classes?” Sophia asked quickly, scratching her head to cover the tension.
“Tomorrow, 8 a.m.,” Kian replied as he stood and headed for the door.
“You’re leaving?” she asked, her voice softer this time.
“Yeah,” he said simply.
“Oh… okay,” she muttered, forcing a smile while secretly clutching the pillow tight to her chest.
When the door shut behind him, Sophia’s smile faded. She pressed her fingers lightly to her lips. You can pretend it didn’t happen, Kian… but I know it did. And I can’t stop thinking about it.
---
A Catholic Church
After leaving Sophia’s house, Kian rode straight to the chapel. The silence of the place wrapped around him as he knelt at the altar. He finished his prayers, but his eyes lingered on the towering cross above the pulpit. His fingers toyed restlessly with the silver necklace hanging from his neck, tracing the outline of the crucifix.
“Bless you, son,” the priest’s voice broke the stillness.
“Amen,” Kian muttered without looking away from the cross.
The priest walked closer, smiling gently. “I see you here often, praying longer than most. Tell me, son… what weighs your heart? What is it you desire?”
Kian’s lips curved faintly, but his voice was low, almost a whisper. “The power to control.”
The priest tilted his head, confused. “Control what?”
Kian finally turned his eyes from the cross, dark and unreadable. He leaned close enough for only the priest to hear.
“The urge to kill.”
And with that, he stood, sliding his hands into his pockets as he strode down the aisle. The priest remained frozen, shocked into silence.
Outside, Kian swung his leg over his bike, started the engine, and drove off, the roar of the machine echoing against the stillness of the church walls.
- Writer
