Amara stepped out of the lecture hall just as the afternoon sun cast long shadows over the university grounds. She wore a soft, cream-colored knit sweater that hugged her frame lightly, paired with faded blue jeans that ended just above her ankle boots, comfortable but effortlessly stylish. Her hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail, stray strands framing her face and catching flecks of honey in the fading light. A simple canvas tote slung over her shoulder completed the look.
Laughing—with Elias.
Caden had only come to the university by chance. An unplanned detour. A strange tug in his chest, a possessive itch that sent him driving to the city. He told himself it was coincidence. It wasn't. And now, he wished he'd never come.
From across the parking lot, half-hidden behind a row of trimmed hydrangeas, he saw them.
Elias.
Amara.
His cousin. His blood.
Her laughter floated over the courtyard, soft and easy, like it belonged in this place, next to Elias.
"I still can't believe you actually read the whole Kant chapter," Elias said, shaking his head in mock disbelief.
Amara grinned. "Well, if I want to win the debate, I need to be prepared."
"Fair enough," Elias replied with a wink, then stepped forward and opened the car door for her.
Amara slipped inside, settling comfortably into the leather seat.
From behind a thick cluster of hydrangeas, Caden's eyes burned with rage. His chest tightened, breath hitching painfully in his throat.
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
His cousin his own goddamn blood.
Laughing. Relaxed. Like she belongs here with him.
His hands curled into fists so tight his nails bit into his palms.
"She's fucking laughing with him. Smiling at him. What the hell does she see in that prick?" he growled under his breath.
Caden felt his body tense, muscles coiling like a spring ready to snap.
He stormed toward the parking lot, each step pounding with fury.
Does she think I'm a fool? His voice echoed in his head, bitter and raw.
He pictured Elias leaning close, whispering something Amara found funny enough to laugh at.
Goddamn her. Goddamn her for making me feel like I'm nothing.
His fists clenched so tightly the skin on his knuckles cracked.
He spat onto the pavement. "You're a fucking idiot, Caden," he hissed. "You let her walk all over you."
His chest heaved. "She doesn't give a shit about you. She's just playing you."
The rage boiled over, spilling into a furious storm.
I'll show her.
He stormed away from the university, the cool evening air doing nothing to cool the fire inside him.
That Night – The Club
The neon lights of the city smeared like watercolors through his windshield. The bass from inside the club thumped like a second heartbeat, loud and demanding.
Caden walked through the door like a storm waiting to break.
He didn't smile. Didn't greet anyone. Just stalked toward the bar.
"Double whiskey," he barked.
The glass hit the counter. He downed it in one swallow.
And another.
By the third, the ache in his chest dulled, but the fury still thrummed in his skull like a migraine.
"Rough night?" a voice asked beside him.
He turned. A woman with long legs, wine-red lips, and a voice like smoke leaned against the bar.
"You could say that," he muttered.
She leaned closer. "Let me guess. Girlfriend trouble?"
He snorted bitterly. "She's not even mine, apparently. She just forgot to mention it."
The woman traced a finger along the rim of her martini glass. "Want to forget her for a few hours?"
He looked at her, at the way her blouse clung to her curves, the way her eyes sparkled like she already owned the room—and without a word, he nodded.
She grabbed his tie, smirked, and pulled him toward the dance floor.
...
Bodies moved. Lights flickered. Music thundered.
She pressed herself against him, hands on his chest, her lips at his ear.
But even as he kissed her hard, punishing he saw Amara.
Amara, turning her head and laughing at something Elias said.
Amara, slipping into his cousin's car without hesitation.
Amara, too cold to even flinch when he yelled, too composed to ever beg.
He kissed the woman again, harder.
Her lipstick smeared against his jaw.
But none of it felt real.
Only the rage did.
Only the humiliation.
Late Night The Estate
Caden fumbled with the lock, slamming the front door behind him. The echo cracked down the marble hallway.
The house was quiet. Too quiet. Jasmine lingered faintly in the air her perfume. Always her.
He stumbled into the study, kicked off his shoes, and collapsed into the armchair.
The silence wrapped around him like a noose.
"Fuck her," he muttered.
"Fuck her laughter."
"Fuck her and that goddamn Elias."
He slammed his fist against the desk. The glass of water there toppled, shattering across the hardwood.
He didn't care.
"She thinks I won't notice? She thinks I'll just watch?"
His voice cracked rage sharpening into something rawer. Something that sounded like heartbreak.
"You belong to me," he growled to the empty room. "You think Elias can protect you? He's not even man enough to touch a woman like you."
But as the alcohol wore off, his hands trembled.
He stood, staggered toward the mirror above the fireplace, and stared at himself.
His eyes were bloodshot. A bruise forming along his jaw from a fight he couldn't even remember. Lip cut.
He didn't recognize himself.
And the worst part?
She would've.
Amara would've looked at him like this drunk, disheveled, angry and said nothing. She would've just stared at him with that cold, steady gaze. Like he wasn't even worth the effort of a reaction.
He sank to the floor.
"Goddamn you, Amara."
His voice broke.
"I fucking hate you for making me want you."