The fire had burned down to embers, casting a dim orange glow over the clearing. Marcus sat across from Lyra, his eyes fixed on her with a predatory gleam, the silence between them thick with unspoken tension. Lyra could feel the weight of his gaze, but she refused to meet his eyes, her own locked on the dying flames.
Every breath she took felt heavy, each moment stretched thin as she resisted the urge to lash out. Marcus's presence was suffocating, but she knew better than to let him see how deeply he was affecting her. If he saw a crack in her armor, he would use it to his advantage.
"You've always been stubborn," Marcus said suddenly, his voice low and mocking. "But you're only making this harder on yourself."
Lyra clenched her jaw, her fingers digging into the rough fabric of her clothes as she forced herself to remain calm. She wouldn't rise to his bait. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing her break.
