"Get out!" He shoved me.
My back hit a pillar hard, stone biting through the thin silk of my robes. I gasped, more from the shock in his voice than the pain. It was ragged, trembling. Something inside him was tearing apart.
Behind the door—chains. Moans. Struggle. The sound of metal straining echoed in the chamber, a rhythmic clank like a heartbeat being dragged across stone. Not just restraints for the demon—restraints for him.
I had come to speak, to explain, to beg. I couldn't even remember now. My mind was a whirlwind of fear and something hotter, more dangerous.
He turned away from me, hands clenched so tightly at his sides I saw the skin split. Blood ran down to stain his sleeves.
"Why did you come here?" he asked quietly, voice hoarse.
"To see you," I whispered. "To know the truth."
"There is no truth anymore," he said, back still to me. "Only consequences."
"I didn't mean for any of this to happen. The dream—the demon—it's not me!"
He turned then, and the look in his eyes stopped my breath. Not fury. Not hatred. Hunger. Pain. Longing held together by a thread.
"You looked at me that night," he said. "Like you remembered something you were never supposed to know."
"I did remember," I said, voice trembling. "Your hands on my shoulders. Your breath at my ear. You calling my name—not the one others use. My name."
His eyes burned.
"You should hate me for it," he said. "I've sinned against everything sacred. Against our family. Against you."
I stepped forward, each inch a defiance.
"I should. But I don't."
He flinched like the words struck him. The chains behind the door rattled violently.
"I am not strong enough to let you speak like that," he muttered. "Not without doing something I can't undo."
He pressed his palms to the stone wall, his whole body shaking.
"I can't be your ruin, Zhiwei. So get out. Before I stop trying to protect you."
I should have turned. I should have obeyed. But I stood frozen, my heart hammering, my soul aching. He would never say it aloud—but he wanted me. He had always wanted me.
I backed away, step by step, until the door shut between us.
Behind it, the chains rattled again. Once. Twice. Then silence.