INT – ERION'S ROOM
Erion jolted awake.
A dull weight pressed behind his eyes, spreading through every limb—his body felt heavier than it should. The warm orange glow of the room blurred into streaks, his vision refusing to focus.
Normally, a state like this would trigger panic. But his body was too relaxed to obey him.
He forced his eyes open again, controlling his breath one cycle at a time, fighting to regain command of himself.
His sheets. His room.
He braced himself upright with both arms before he could sink back into the mattress. His eyelids burned as he pushed them wider—and then the sight hit him.
His bare torso.
Electrodes taped across his chest.
Wires trailing off the bed like veins pulled from a machine.
A cold inhale left his lungs. He lifted his chin, eyes narrowing sharply as he turned to the left.
"Bunny."
His voice cut like a blade—crisp, lucid, and terrifyingly sharp.
Evah jumped.
"I—I can explain!" she blurted, clutching a tablet against her chest. Her hair was tied up, glasses on, her whole posture caught between guilt and panic.
Erion dragged his gaze toward the window, the sun's orange flare hitting the floor.
What time is it?
How long was I out?
Did I oversleep? Impossible.
Instinctively he checked his left wrist—only to stare at bare skin.
His eyes swept the room next, precise even through the haze. Every lock, every seam of the walls, every corner. All secured.
Good. The emergency fortress protocol triggered before he blacked out.
We're safe.
Then his attention snapped back to her, standing beside his table like a guilty child caught on act.
"Where is it?"
Evah stiffened. "Um—"
"Where is it."
The command in his voice made her flinch.
"Miss Arsenault," he growled, "know your place."
His mind was still fogged, his consciousness feeling freshly reset—something he hated, something he feared becoming dependent on.
"Erion, that's not advisable!" she fired back, straightening as she forced herself to meet his gaze.
"You don't get to judge my decisions."
Erion pushed himself up from the bed, but the room swayed. The haze was suffocating, and the frustration of losing control only sharpened his tone.
"You're using electrical shock to wake yourself—your nervous system can't keep taking that—"
"Give it back."
His eyes flared—blue, bright, lethal.
He stepped closer with slow, deliberate intent, the kind of aura that reminded her why people called him a demon on the battlefield.
Every sound of his bare foot steps felt like a threat.
"You don't have the right to question me."
The words hammered like law, the Major General's voice.
"No."
Her refusal came quicker than he expected. Like a slap of cold water on his clouded mind.
He caught his reflection in the cabinet's glass—same face, same eyes. And just like that, the nightmare resurfaced.
The people who begged him for mercy he never gave.
But in the dream, he wasn't the executioner.
He was the one begging, tasting their fear, choking on their desperation as he stared up at his own merciless face. The face that has no guilt. No hesitation.
It made him wonder—were those emotions theirs?
Or just the echo of guilt he refused to acknowledge?
"Arsenault," he warned, voice low and fraying at the edges, "I'm not in the mood to play."
He gripped her shoulders—firm, unyielding. She flinched hard.
He felt the tremor in her body, but his own mind was too fractured to process it.
You're caring too much, Bunny.
The voice inside him—his usual restraint—felt distant.
He glared down at her, and the anger in his eyes was the kind that made seasoned soldiers tremble.
Evah froze.
The shock in her expression was raw, fear bleeding through every breath she drew.
"You know I can take it by force," he said, each word colder than the last.
That was the moment fear finally swallowed her whole. But she squeezed her eyes shut and yelled back—
"Go on then! Try me! I made sure you won't find it anywhere in this room!"
Her voice wavered, the courage splitting under fear—but it was courage nonetheless.
"I knew you'd do this!"
Her shoulders shook in his grip, but still she pushed,
"You can throw me out—I won't give it back!"
For a moment, he simply stared at her.
Fear all over her—shaking hands, cracking voice.
And yet… still mouthing off to him.
He felt his lips twitch, the faintest edge of amusement breaking through the storm.
Then clarity snapped into place—fast, clean.
His consciousness locked back into alignment.
He let go of her shoulders.
He exhaled, running a hand back through his hair, frustrated and confused more than anything else.
What is her deal…?
He stormed into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.
Evah crumpled to her knees the moment he was gone, chest heaving.
Her eyes finally opened.
Her heartbeat was a frantic, suffocating rush.
And those blue eyes—
the demon's eyes—
would haunt her dreams again.