Amara's POV
The numbers on her physics textbook blurred together as Amara tried to focus. She blinked hard, rubbing her eyes. No matter how much she wanted to concentrate, a heavy, invisible weight seemed to press down on her—a feeling she couldn't shake.
Damien was watching her again.
He hadn't said anything, but she could feel him standing in the doorway, silent and still. He had a habit of doing that—hovering without a word, like he thought she wouldn't notice. But she always did.
"Still studying?" he asked, his voice low, smooth, and far too close to her ear for comfort.
Amara didn't look up. If she kept pretending everything was fine, maybe it would be. "Midterms," she murmured, flipping a page. "I have to pass physics this time."
There was a soft chuckle, and the air between them thickened. "You don't need to stress over grades, Amara. I'll take care of everything for you."
Her stomach twisted. It was supposed to be reassuring, but instead, it felt like a trap—like he wanted her to depend on him for more than just homework.
"No, Damien." She shook her head, keeping her gaze on the textbook. "I need to do this on my own."
She could feel the shift in his mood before he even spoke. His silence was sharp, like a knife resting against her skin.
"You don't have to," he said softly, stepping into the room.
He was close—too close. She could see his shadow on her desk, and her heart raced with the sudden urge to push him away. But she didn't. She couldn't.
"I mean it," she said, her voice brittle. "I've got this."
He crouched beside her chair, his hand sliding onto the armrest as if staking a claim. "You don't have to do everything alone, Amara. I'm here."
The way he said it made her shiver—not in a good way. She leaned back slightly, trying to put space between them. "I know you are, Damien. But I really need to focus."
For a second, she thought he wouldn't move. His gaze stayed locked on hers, dark and unreadable. Then, slowly, he stood.
"Of course," he whispered, brushing a hand over her shoulder. "I just want what's best for you."
She forced a smile, but as soon as he left, her breath escaped in a shaky exhale. She didn't know why his words unsettled her so much. He was just being... Damien. Right?
She wasn't so sure anymore.
---
Damien's POV
Damien stood outside Amara's room, his hand still resting on the doorframe. He could feel the tension in her—how she tried to hide it, how she pulled away from him little by little. But she couldn't escape. Not really.
She belonged to him. She just didn't understand that yet.
He'd watched over her for years, shielding her from the dangers of the world. She was his responsibility—his to protect, his to love. But now, Amara was changing. Growing up. And with every step she took away from him, Damien felt the knot in his chest tighten.
She thought she needed independence. He knew better.
Damien's fingers brushed the wood of her door. He almost smiled when he heard the faint click of the lock turning. It was cute, really—how she thought a flimsy lock could keep him away.
Not that he would push her. Not yet.
Patience was a skill Damien had perfected over the years. Amara was like a bird in a cage—she didn't realize how safe she was, but she'd thank him one day. He was certain of it.
For now, he'd let her pretend she had control. Let her believe she could study, pass her exams, and build a life of her own. But Damien knew the truth—her future was already written.
And it belonged to him.
---
Amara's POV
The house was silent as Amara crept downstairs, the soft hum of the refrigerator the only sound in the dark. She hadn't been able to sleep—not with Damien's words still lingering in her mind, making her skin crawl in ways she didn't want to admit.
She just needed some water. A break. A moment to breathe without him around.
But as she reached for a glass, she felt it again—that heavy, familiar presence that made her heart race.
Damien.
"Couldn't sleep?" His voice drifted through the shadows like a lullaby, soft but suffocating.
Amara turned slowly, gripping the glass tighter. "Just needed water."
He stepped closer, his gaze unwavering. In the dim kitchen light, his features looked sharper, more dangerous.
"You shouldn't be wandering around at night." His tone was gentle, but there was a warning beneath it, subtle but unmistakable.
"I'm not wandering," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. "I just needed a break."
Damien smiled—a slow, calculated curve of his lips that made her stomach twist. "You don't have to do everything on your own, Amara. I told you. I'm always here."
There was that feeling again—the leash tightening around her neck, invisible but ever-present.
"I know," she whispered, looking away. But even as she turned her back on him, she could feel his gaze, heavy with something dark and unspoken.
---
Damien's POV
As Amara retreated to her room, Damien stayed behind, his smile lingering in the dark.
She thought she could run from him, lock him out, create space between them. But space meant nothing to Damien.
He had waited years for her—watched her grow from a shy little girl into the beautiful, sharp-edged young woman she was becoming.
And now, she was slipping through his fingers.
But not for long.
Damien stood at her door, listening to the soft click of the lock again. His smile deepened.
Amara could lock him out as much as she wanted. But one day, she'd realize the truth.
She wasn't running from him.
She was running toward him.