The week dragged forward like a stormcloud refusing to break. Sophie moved through it in silence, her notebook her only anchor. Every page filled with fragments—words she couldn't say aloud, images she couldn't escape. The fire beneath the ashes kept burning, and no matter how hard she tried, Marcus's shadow bled into every line.
He was everywhere. In the halls, his laugh cutting through the crowd. In class, his gaze flicking toward her when he thought she wouldn't notice. Even in her dreams, where his voice echoed like a warning she didn't understand.
And she hated him for it. She hated herself more.
On Wednesday, she arrived at the library earlier than usual, hoping to steal a moment of peace before her next class. The rows of shelves stood quiet, the air heavy with dust and paper. She slipped into her usual corner, notebook spread across the table, and began to write.
He is a shadow with teeth. He is a flame that burns even when I run. He is the crack in the armor I swore I'd never take off.
Her pen froze. She snapped the notebook shut, anger rising hot in her chest. Why couldn't she stop writing about him? Why couldn't she excise him from her mind like poison?
"Don't stop on my account."
The voice made her heart lurch. She looked up.
Marcus stood a few feet away, leaning casually against a bookshelf. His smirk was there, but his eyes gave him away—focused, intent, too sharp for mere amusement.
"What do you want?" she hissed.
He shrugged, stepping closer. "Maybe I wanted to see what you'd write about me next."
Sophie's face flamed. "You don't get to read my words."
"Too late," he said softly, sliding into the chair opposite hers. "I already did. That poem in the hallway…" He leaned in, voice dropping. "You think no one sees you. But I do."
The air thickened between them. Sophie's breath hitched, fury and something else warring inside her.
"Why?" she whispered. "Why me?"
Marcus's smirk faltered. His gaze flicked down, then back to her. For once, he looked unsure.
"Because you don't flinch," he said finally. "Not the way the others do. You take it. You fight back with silence. It… unnerves me."
Sophie's chest tightened. The words felt like a confession, one he hadn't meant to give.
But before she could reply, footsteps echoed down the aisle. Marcus's head snapped up, the mask sliding back over his features in an instant. He leaned back, smirk firmly in place, as two of his friends appeared.
"There you are, Hale," one of them said. "Skipping class again?"
Marcus stood smoothly, his grin easy. "Wouldn't want to miss the fun."
He glanced back at Sophie once—just once—before disappearing with them down the hall.
Sophie stared after him, her heart hammering.
For a moment, she'd seen him unmasked. And it scared her more than anything else.
That evening, Sophie couldn't focus on her homework. Her mind replayed the moment in the library, over and over. The way his voice had dropped. The way his smirk had slipped.
Her fingers itched for her notebook. She opened it, words spilling out in jagged ink:
He wears a mask, but I have seen the cracks.And beneath the cracks, something burns.But fire does not warm—it consumes.
She dropped the pen, staring at the words. Her chest ached with confusion, fear, and something she couldn't name.
Because if Marcus was more than his cruelty, if there was something human beneath the armor—what did that mean for her?
And why did part of her want to find out?
The next day, she avoided him as best she could. But avoidance in Windmere was nearly impossible. Their worlds collided again in the courtyard.
Sophie sat alone, notebook on her lap, when Marcus appeared. He didn't sit this time. He just stood over her, hands in his pockets, gaze steady.
"You think you've figured me out, don't you?" he said.
Sophie blinked up at him, startled. "I don't—"
"Yes, you do." His voice was low, edged with something like frustration. "You think you see past it. Past me."
Her heart pounded. "Maybe I do."
He leaned closer, eyes dark. "Then be careful, Sophie. Because once you see the truth, you can't unsee it."
Her breath caught. For a fleeting second, the world narrowed to just the two of them—the storm in his eyes, the fire in her chest.
And then he was gone, walking away before she could speak.
Sophie stared after him, her hands trembling against the notebook.
The cracks in his armor were widening.
And she wasn't sure if she wanted to step through them—or run before the fire consumed her whole.