~đź–¤
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The storm didn't stop.
Rain hammered the windows as if the sky itself wanted in. The whole room was drenched in silver light and shadow — the kind that didn't ask permission to be seen. The kind that made confessions easier. More dangerous.
Maya sat cross-legged on the bed, Mira's diary open in her lap. But her eyes weren't on the words.
They were on Elias.
He was pacing the room — shirtless, furious, beautiful. His jaw was clenched, his hands twitching like he wanted to hit something. Or someone.
> "She planned everything," Maya whispered. "She knew exactly what she was doing to you. To Jax. To me."
Elias's laugh was bitter. Cold. "Of course she did. Mira was a master manipulator. But the worst part? I let her."
He stopped at the edge of the bed, looking down at Maya like she was the only real thing in a world made of ghosts.
> "And you… you were just in the way."
Maya's throat tightened. "I loved her."
> "She didn't deserve it," he said darkly. "But you—"
He knelt down, hands slipping beneath her thighs, pulling her toward the edge of the bed until her knees were on either side of his shoulders. His voice dropped to a growl.
> "You keep surprising me."
She trembled.
> "I thought you were soft. Quiet. Breakable."
> "And now?"
His eyes met hers — black fire. "Now I know you're dangerous."
> "Then stop touching me."
> "Never."
He yanked her down into his lap, mouth capturing hers with a heat that swallowed thought. She tasted like rain and recklessness. Like every terrible thing he swore he wouldn't do again.
But she didn't push him away.
She pulled him deeper.
Their mouths warred with heat and hunger, hands roaming, skin burning. His hands slipped beneath her oversized hoodie — again, his — and pulled it off, exposing her bare skin to the cold air and his starving gaze.
> "You wore nothing under this," he muttered.
> "Because I knew you'd come back."
He swore under his breath and kissed her like he'd bleed without her. She fell back against the bed, her hair fanning out like ink across the pillows, and he followed her down — one hand pinning hers above her head, the other tracing her ribcage, slow and reverent.
> "You don't know what you're doing to me, Maya."
> "I think I do."
She arched into his touch, gasping as he found the spot that made her legs shake, his mouth following the trail of goosebumps down her body. Her moans filled the air, swallowed by thunder and the rhythm of their need.
When he entered her again — slow, deep, intense — it felt like surrender.
It felt like war.
Their bodies moved with more than want — with desperation.
Every thrust was a promise. Every gasp, a confession.
> "No one else will ever have this," Elias growled, thrusting harder.
> "No one else," she breathed. "Only you."
> "Say it."
> "I'm yours."
> "Louder."
> "I'm yours!"
Lightning split the sky outside.
And inside, two broken people burned down the last of what was left.
They didn't notice the knocks at the front door.
They didn't hear Jax's voice calling her name through the storm.
Because in that moment — in that bed —
they weren't grieving anymore.
They were becoming something else entirely.
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