Chapter 1 #2
I came all this way chasing a what if, and now I’m standing out here drenched, my medical band vibrating against my wrist. The warning pulse means my heart rate is climbing again, creeping toward the point where everything starts to go wrong.
I need to get back. I need to find Damaris.
Rounding the corner, I nearly slip.
That’s when I hear it.
A step behind me.
My breath catches. I stop dead and listen, every muscle in me pulling tight as I stare into the rain-slick darkness, waiting for the sound to come again.
Silence. Nothing except the hiss of water in the gutters and the low electric hum overhead.
You’re imagining things.
I swallow hard and force myself to keep walking, shoulders hunched against the rain, the medical band on my wrist buzzing its first warning into my skin.
Five steps later, another footstep answers mine. Then another, close enough now that I can’t pretend it isn’t there.
Fear claws higher in my chest. I don’t turn around. I just keep walking faster, my shoes skidding on the slick street as I try to act like I haven’t noticed.
The sound follows, matching me so exactly it makes my skin go cold.
They’re already watching you.
The street is empty. No laughter. No voices. Just the lane lights, the wet shine of the road, and footsteps that don’t belong to me.
I whirl around too fast and nearly lose my footing. “Who’s there? Why are you following me?”
Move.
Panic hits hard. I break into a run, my duffel bag slamming against my hip, the strap biting into my shoulder. My lungs burn as I drag in freezing air, forcing myself faster.
The medical band vibrates again. My heart is going too fast. My vision blurs at the edges, and the towers ahead of me jitter, the neon smearing through the mist as everything starts to stutter under the force of adrenaline.
For one sick second, Sero disappears, and the road under my feet turns to cracked pavement. The mist thickens into the industrial smoke of Düren.
And then I see myself, twelve years old and running hard enough to hurt, flashing at the edge of my vision every time I turn a corner. No matter how far I run, he’s still there, looking back over his shoulder with wide eyes as dark figures close in behind him, laughing like this is a game.
Every turn brings him back.
My breath catches, and I stumble, one hand flying to my throat even though I know it won’t help. My chest tightens so fast it feels like something has locked shut inside me, sending a tremor through my hands.
No. No, no, no. Please not here.
I just got here. I haven’t even played a single note on Sero. I haven’t found her.
I take the next turn blind, nearly skidding as my shoes lose grip, the world glitching hard enough to make me stumble.
Static cuts across my vision. The lights split and double as the city blurs, then snaps back into place.
Instinct takes over, breath tearing out of me in short, useless pulls, but the footsteps never stop, still there behind me no matter how fast I run.
No need to look back to know what that means. Every turn becomes one he’s letting me take until the street ends too suddenly.
One hand catches the barrier at the edge of the drop as I stagger to a stop. Water churns far below, lost somewhere beneath the rain and city lights.
I spin around, sucking in a sharp breath. My pulse roars. The city smears and doubles for a second before snapping back into focus. My fingers won’t stop shaking.
Then he steps out of the dark.
For one terrible second, I know exactly who he is. The man from the railing. The one who watched me from above while I stood in Black Chapel pretending I wasn’t in trouble.
And now he’s here. Tall and broad, half in shadow, his coat rain-dark and his expression unnervingly calm.
“Stay back,” I choke out.
Backing up, I hit stone instead of open space. When my heel slips, the world tilts.
And then a hand closes around my throat.
The blur vanishes. Reality slams back into place. Another arm wraps around my waist, hauling me backward before I can fall.
“You—”
The rest of the sentence never makes it out, because he turns us in one motion, slamming my spine against the wall. The impact rattles my teeth, and he doesn’t stop there. He follows through, crushing me into the stone until the air in my lungs belongs to him.
Suddenly, his face is inches from mine, sharp and devastatingly handsome in a way that feels dangerous, the flicker of a passing hover-car catching in his eyes as they stay fixed on me with a terrifying kind of amusement.
“Get off me.” I twist hard, shoving at his chest with my free hand, but my fingers barely make a dent. “L-let go—”
“You’re not very good at taking advice, are you?”
“W-what do you want from me?” I force out. “I d-don’t have anything. I have no money.”
“Money? Is that what you think this is?” He sounds genuinely amused as his gaze drifts over my face before settling on my mouth. “All that running, just to end up exactly where I wanted you.”
I want to tell him to get his hands off me, but my heart is lodged in my throat and my mind has stopped being useful. My entire body aches as I drag in air, trying to force myself back under control.
His thumb tilts my chin, and for the first time, the amusement in his face thins into something sharper.
“Get off me,” I grind out.
“What were you doing in Black Chapel?”
My stomach drops. “P-please...”
His thumb shifts against my jaw. “You came here tonight when you should’ve been at registration. Alone. Why was that? Hm?”
“That’s n-none of your business.”
But my breath locks in my throat, my mouth falling open in a desperate search for air. I can’t find any, can only focus on the medical band vibrating around my wrist.
“Are you g-going to k-kill me?” I manage to wheeze.
He clicks his tongue and shakes his head. “I’d never be stupid enough to kill a customer.”
“I don’t g-gamble.”
“No?” He grins. “You walked into Black Chapel alone. Got noticed by every person who hides in the shadows. And for what?”
For Sola.
I don’t tell him that. Instead, I shake my head and keep fighting for air.
His thumb presses beneath my jaw, forcing my head a fraction higher. “That’s gambling.”
“I wasn’t gambling.” My voice shakes. I hate that he can hear it.
“That’s what people say when they want permission to lose.”
The words land hard enough to turn my stomach, my band pulsing hotter against my wrist as my body tightens and my heart races so fast it no longer feels like rhythm.
He keeps looking at me, taking in the tremor in my hands, the wheeze catching in my throat, the pulse beating wild beneath my skin, and when his mouth curls up, there’s nothing kind in it, only a dark, almost fascinated amusement that makes me press back into the stone.
“Hmm. You’re nothing like I thought you’d be,” he says.
I think of the bartender’s warning, the comment about registration, and the way he’s been looking at me since he stepped out of the dark.
Did he know who I was before tonight?
Then he shifts, driving his thigh harder between mine and forcing my legs apart, hitching my hips higher against his until I’m pinned open between his body and the wall.
A broken sound escapes me. “W-what are you doing?”
He leans in until I feel his breath against my skin. “Shh.”
But I can’t stay quiet. I’m terrified. The pressure hits low in my body, my nerves misfiring as heat shoots through me.
I feel the exact moment he notices. One corner of his mouth lifts, and he tightens his grip as though he’s found something he was looking for. “That’s what I thought.”
Please don’t have an attack now. Please.
For one awful second, he just watches, taking in the way my breath keeps catching while the edges of my vision darken. Then he brushes the damp hair back from my temple, the touch so wrong against the force of the rest of him that I flinch harder into the wall.
“Breathe,” he murmurs, his voice low against my ear, his thumb shifting under my jaw and holding me steady when I try to turn away. “In.”
My breath stutters, catching halfway, but I drag in a ragged inhale because his voice gives me something to follow.
“Again.”
I do it, shuddering. The next inhale hurts less than the last.
“Slow.”
He never eases. His thigh stays between mine, his body pressed into me as he keeps me pinned against the wall, walking me back from the edge of my own panic as though he has every right to touch me, command me, make my body listen.
The air finally starts going all the way in. My pulse is still racing, but the darkness recedes from the edges of my vision, and I hate the relief almost as much as I hate the way he watches my face while it happens.