The flickering light above the bed buzzed like a dying wasp. Outside, thunder rolled. But inside the room, the only storm was in Aiden's chest.
Connie had fallen asleep, curled like a cat next to him, one leg dangling off the side. Her breathing was soft now, but even in sleep, she looked dangerous—like something dreaming of fire.
Aiden stared at the water-stained ceiling, chains cold around his wrists. His arms were going numb, but his thoughts were anything but dull.
You let her get this close again. You knew better.
He should've fought harder.
He should've run faster.
He should've known she'd never really let go.
But beneath all the self-recrimination, something else stirred. A whisper in the marrow. A heartbeat that didn't belong to him.
And then—he felt it. A shiver that started in his spine and crawled up his neck.
It was here again.
The Entity.
It didn't need form. Its presence was enough—sliding through the cracks in his thoughts like smoke, curling around his guilt, licking at the soft underbelly of his fear.
"She remembers what you were," it murmured, its voice everywhere and nowhere. "Do you?"
Aiden clenched his teeth. "Not you again."
"You say that like I ever left. You're not chained by her. You're chained by you. Your own denial. Your own weakness."
The chains suddenly felt heavier.
"She's not afraid of you, Aiden. She worships you. The real you. The one who didn't flinch. The one who ruled chaos like a god."
Aiden turned his head toward Connie, watching her chest rise and fall.
He remembered her crying blood in the alley after a fight, only to kiss him like it was the most sacred moment of her life. He remembered her stealing bullets just to carve his name on them. He remembered her telling him that if he ever died, she'd bury herself alive beside him.
Twisted.
But honestly.
"She sees the truth. And she wants to set it free. All you have to do..." The voice coiled inside his ear. "...is stop pretending you're anything else."
Aiden closed his eyes, trembling. The room wasn't just a prison—it was a confessional.
"She's sick," he whispered.
"And you're starving."
He bit his lip until it bled.
The Entity laughed, low and warm and monstrous.
"What if you stopped running? Just for one night. Just to remember what it felt like to be seen. Touched. Feared."
Aiden's wrists twitched—just a little. Not from struggle. From possibility.
"Don't."
"She'd burn the world to hold you. And part of you... wants to burn with her."
Aiden's breath caught.
The Entity leaned closer, whispering through his own heartbeat:
"Say it."
"I miss what we had," Aiden choked.
"Say it louder."
"I miss her madness," he admitted. "I miss being... that version of me."
"Then stop denying it. Embrace it. Let the monster out."
A second lock clicked.
The metal cuff around his wrist loosened just enough.
Connie stirred in her sleep—smiling faintly, as if she could feel it too. As if some part of her knew the dam was cracking.
And in the quiet, Aiden's heart whispered the one thing he feared most:
What if I was never meant to be saved?