Saturday morning should have felt like freedom. No crowded hallways, no cruel laughter, no eyes tracking her every step. Sophie had planned to sleep late, bury herself in books, and let the world shrink to the safe size of her bedroom.
But she woke early, heart restless, the storm outside rattling her windows. Rain fell in heavy sheets, drowning the street below. The gray light made her room feel like dusk, though it was barely past dawn.
She sat at her desk, notebook open, pen poised. Words usually saved her—scribbled fragments of poems, half-formed stories, letters she'd never send. But today the page remained stubbornly blank.
Every time she lowered the pen, his face appeared. Marcus. The smirk, the crack in his armor, the low voice whispering, You don't break.
Sophie pressed her palms against her eyes, furious with herself. Why was she thinking about him? Why couldn't she shut him out?
He was the reason she needed armor in the first place.
And yet…
She slammed the notebook shut, shoving it into a drawer as though that could bury the thoughts with it.
By noon, the storm had eased, leaving the streets slick and shining. Sophie pulled on her jacket, deciding she couldn't stand the suffocating silence of her room any longer. The small town surrounding Windmere wasn't much, but the bookstore two blocks away had always been her sanctuary.
The bell above the door jingled as she stepped inside. Warmth and the smell of paper enveloped her. Rows of shelves stretched ahead, dim light spilling across covers worn soft with touch.
For the first time that day, her chest eased.
She wandered slowly, fingers trailing along spines. She found a battered copy of Jane Eyre, tucked between newer editions. She'd read it before, but there was comfort in its weight, in the familiar ache of its story.
She carried it to the counter, only to freeze mid-step.
Marcus Hale was standing there.
He leaned against the counter, talking casually to the clerk, his presence filling the room in that infuriating way of his. His damp hair clung to his forehead, rain-darkened jacket hanging open. He looked out of place among the quiet shelves, a storm that had wandered inside.
Sophie's pulse leapt. She considered turning back, slipping between the aisles before he saw her. But it was too late. His eyes lifted—and found hers.
For a moment, neither of them moved. The bookstore fell away, the sound of rain muted.
Then Marcus's lips curved into the faintest smile. "Didn't expect to see you here, Nobody."
Her grip tightened on the book. "Don't call me that."
He raised a brow. "What should I call you, then?"
She hesitated. "Sophie."
The way he repeated it—soft, deliberate—sent a shiver down her spine. "Sophie," he said, as though tasting the name.
The clerk returned with a receipt, breaking the moment. Marcus slid a hand through his damp hair, then glanced at her again. "Guess we have the same hiding spot."
"I'm not hiding," she snapped, though the words felt hollow.
He smirked but didn't press further. Instead, he stepped aside, gesturing toward the counter. "Go ahead."
Sophie paid for her book quickly, her cheeks burning under his gaze. She wanted to flee, but something rooted her in place.
Outside, the rain began again, softer now, a steady drizzle. Marcus fell into step beside her as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
"Don't you have better things to do than follow me?" she muttered.
"Maybe I like the rain," he said.
She shot him a look. "Or maybe you like making me uncomfortable."
He chuckled, low and warm. "Maybe both."
They walked in silence for a block. The town was quiet, rain-slicked streets nearly empty. Sophie hugged the book to her chest, each step heavy with unspoken words.
Finally, she stopped under the awning of a closed café. "Why are you really here?"
Marcus leaned against the wall, rain dripping from his hair. His smirk faltered, his eyes darkening with something she couldn't read.
"Because I wanted to see if you'd still look at me the way you do."
Her breath caught. "And how do I look at you?"
"Like you see something no one else does."
The words lodged in her chest. She hated how true they felt. She hated that he knew.
Before she could respond, voices echoed from down the street—familiar, sharp with laughter. Marcus's friends.
His mask slid back into place instantly. He pushed off the wall, smirk returning. "See you Monday, Nobody."
And just like that, he was gone, melting into the rain as if he'd never been there at all.
Sophie stood frozen, rain misting against her skin, the book heavy in her arms.
Her heart was a battlefield, torn between fury and something far more dangerous.
Because Marcus Hale wasn't just a storm anymore.
He was the shadow she couldn't stop chasing.