The next week unfolded like a slow collapse. Sophie woke each morning with the weight of Marcus's words pressing into her chest: Then we burn. The promise had been carved into her bones, both terrifying and intoxicating. She walked the halls of Windmere like a ghost, her eyes down, her notebook clutched close. The whispers had grown louder, fueled by the memory of the cafeteria fight, fueled by Ethan's endless smirk. Hale's girl. Hale's ruin. Hale's mistake.
She tried not to listen. Tried to disappear. But the world wouldn't let her. Teachers eyed her with suspicion, as though her silence made her guilty of something unseen. Students whispered her name in the same breath as Marcus's, as if she were nothing without him, as if she were just another one of his scars. It didn't matter what she did. She couldn't shake him. And she didn't want to.
At night, she found him. Always. Sometimes on rooftops slick with rain, sometimes in the warehouse, sometimes waiting at her window with shadows under his eyes. He never said where he'd been or what he'd done, and Sophie never asked. She only touched his bruises gently, kissed the taste of smoke and fury off his lips, and held him until dawn. Each night he looked more tired, more broken, but his fire burned fiercer, and she knew Ethan's shadow was at the heart of it.
Ethan, meanwhile, played his role perfectly. He had the school wrapped around his finger, his smirk constant, his eyes following Sophie like a predator watching prey. One afternoon, as Sophie reached her locker, she found another note crumpled inside. This one was worse. He'll destroy you before you even realize he's gone. You think you're saving him, but you're only feeding the fire. And when he burns, he'll take you with him. Her hands shook as she read it. Her chest tightened until she could hardly breathe. She shoved the note deep into her bag and fled to the girls' bathroom, locking herself in a stall.
She pressed her forehead to her knees, tears streaming, her breath ragged. Maybe Ethan was right. Maybe she was only feeding the fire. But wasn't that what she wanted? Hadn't she already chosen to burn?
When she finally emerged, Marcus was waiting outside. His eyes narrowed the second he saw her face, his jaw tightening. "What happened?"
"Nothing," Sophie whispered, brushing past him.
He caught her wrist, his grip firm but trembling. "Don't lie to me."
She froze. Slowly, she pulled the note from her bag and handed it to him. Marcus's eyes scanned the words, his body stiffening with every line. His hands shook with fury. "Ethan," he spat. "I'll kill him."
"Marcus—"
"No!" His voice cracked, sharp and desperate. He tore the note in half, then again and again until the pieces fluttered to the floor like ashes. "He doesn't get to touch you. He doesn't get to breathe near you. I swear to God, Sophie, I'll—"
She grabbed his face, forcing his wild eyes to meet hers. "And then what? Another fight? Another suspension? Another bruise on your body while he laughs? That's what he wants, Marcus. You can't keep giving it to him."
His chest heaved against her hands. "So what do I do? Just let him tear you apart?"
"No," Sophie whispered, her voice breaking. "You fight. But not like this. Not with your fists. With us. With me."
His eyes searched hers, burning, desperate. For a long moment, he said nothing. Then his shoulders sagged, his forehead dropping to hers. "You're the only thing keeping me from falling apart."
"Then hold on to me," she whispered.
That night, she waited by her window, praying he would come. And he did. His knock was soft, almost hesitant, but when he climbed inside, his eyes were softer than she'd ever seen them. He didn't speak at first, just pulled her into his arms and held her like he was afraid she might vanish. Sophie buried her face in his chest, breathing in the scent of rain and smoke. For hours, they lay there in silence, the world outside forgotten.
When he finally spoke, his voice was rough. "I don't know if I can be what you need."
"You already are," Sophie whispered.
"You don't see it," he muttered. "The darkness. The things I've done. The things I'll do again. You don't know how deep it goes."
"Then show me," she said. "I won't run."
He pulled back, his eyes shining in the dim light. "You should. You should run as far as you can. But you won't, will you?"
"No," Sophie whispered. "I won't."
And he kissed her then, soft and trembling, as if he were already breaking.
The days blurred into nights, the fire between them growing fiercer. Sophie's notebook filled with words of shadows and chains, of love that destroyed and healed in the same breath. Marcus read them sometimes, his fingers tracing the lines as if they were scripture. "You make me sound like something worth saving," he whispered once.
"You are," she said.
But the world didn't agree. The teachers called her parents, warning them of Sophie's "association" with Marcus Hale. Her mother pleaded with her, begged her to stay away from him, to think of her future. Sophie only shook her head. "He is my future." Her mother's eyes filled with tears, but Sophie couldn't take the words back. She wouldn't.
One evening, as Sophie walked home, Ethan appeared at her side. She froze, her heart racing. "What do you want?" she whispered.
He smirked. "Only to remind you of the truth. Marcus isn't a hero. He's a fire waiting to consume you. And when it does, don't say I didn't warn you."
"Why do you hate him so much?" Sophie demanded, her voice shaking.
Ethan's smirk darkened. "Because he gets to have what he doesn't deserve. He gets you."
Her stomach turned. "You're disgusting."
"And yet," Ethan whispered, leaning closer, "you can't stop me. None of you can. When the fire burns out, Sophie, I'll be the only one left standing."
She shoved past him, her hands trembling, tears stinging her eyes. She ran until she reached the warehouse, bursting inside to find Marcus waiting. She collapsed into his arms, sobbing.
"Ethan," she whispered. "He won't stop."
Marcus's body tensed, his arms tightening around her. "Then neither will I."
For the first time, Sophie wasn't sure if that was a promise or a threat.
The night dragged on, heavy with silence. Marcus sat against the wall, Sophie curled against his chest, his fingers tangled in her hair. His eyes stared at the dark, his jaw tight. "I'll protect you," he whispered. "Even if it kills me."
Her heart broke. She wanted to tell him she didn't need protecting, that she only needed him. But the words stuck in her throat, swallowed by the fear that he might disappear before she ever had the chance.
When dawn came, Sophie lifted her head, staring at him in the pale light. "Promise me something," she whispered.
His eyes met hers, tired and fierce. "What?"
"Promise me you won't let Ethan take you from me."
Marcus's chest rose sharply. He cupped her face, his hands trembling. "I promise," he whispered.
And Sophie clung to him, knowing promises were fragile things, but believing anyway. Because belief was all she had left.
The fire was consuming them both, the chains pulling tighter, the shadows closing in. But Sophie wasn't afraid. Not anymore. She had chosen her fate. And if the world wanted to tear them apart, it would have to burn first.