The warehouse still reeked of sweat and blood. Sophie sat with Marcus on the cold concrete floor long after Ethan had left, her arms wrapped tightly around him, her notebook abandoned in the corner. Every muscle in Marcus's body trembled under her touch, his breath sharp and uneven. She stroked his hair, whispered his name like a prayer, but it felt as though he was somewhere far away, drowning in a place she couldn't reach.
When he finally lifted his head, the look in his eyes made Sophie's chest ache. There was fire there, yes, but also something hollow, something fractured. He reached for her face, his bloodstained hand trembling as he brushed her cheek. "I almost killed him," he whispered, his voice raw.
"But you didn't," Sophie answered quickly, desperate to anchor him. "You stopped. Marcus, that matters. It matters more than you think."
He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "No. It just means he's still alive to keep coming after us."
Sophie's throat tightened. She cupped his face, ignoring the blood, ignoring the way her own hands shook. "Then let him come. We'll face him together."
His eyes closed, his forehead pressing to hers, his breath hot against her lips. "You don't know what you're asking for, Sophie."
"Yes, I do," she whispered fiercely. "I'm asking you not to give up on yourself. I'm asking you not to leave me."
His lips brushed hers, fragile, fleeting, as though he didn't believe he had the right. "You deserve better than me."
"I don't want better," Sophie said, her voice breaking. "I want you. Even if it kills me."
The silence that followed was heavy, charged with everything neither of them could say. Marcus pulled her against his chest, his arms trembling as he held her, as if he was terrified she might vanish if he let go. Sophie buried her face in his shirt, her tears soaking the fabric, and for the first time, she wondered if loving him would be enough to keep the fire from consuming them both.
That night, Marcus didn't let her go. He walked her home in silence, his hood pulled low, his hand gripping hers tightly. The streets were empty, the only sound their footsteps echoing against the pavement. When they reached her house, he hesitated by the window, his jaw tight, his eyes shadowed.
"Promise me something," he said suddenly.
Sophie blinked. "What?"
"If it comes down to me or you… choose yourself."
Her stomach dropped. She grabbed his hoodie, pulling him closer, her eyes blazing. "Don't you dare ask me that."
His lips curved in the faintest, saddest smile. "I had to try."
Before she could answer, he kissed her—hard, desperate, almost violent. Sophie clung to him, her nails digging into his shoulders, her body trembling as though she could fuse them together. When he pulled away, his eyes burned with something she couldn't name. Then he slipped into the shadows, leaving her breathless and aching at her window.
The next day at school, everything felt sharper, heavier. The whispers were louder. Ethan's smirk cut deeper. Sophie walked the halls with her head high, but her chest felt like it was splitting open. She saw Ethan by the lockers, his lip swollen, a bandage on his jaw. He caught her gaze, winked, and mouthed one word: Soon.
Her stomach twisted. She forced herself past him, but the weight of his promise followed her into every class, every hallway, every breath.
By the time the final bell rang, Sophie was shaking. She rushed home, locked herself in her room, and pulled out her notebook. The words poured from her, frantic and raw—chains and fire, blood and love, the boy who was hers and the shadow who wanted to break them. She wrote until her hand cramped, until the ink smudged with tears.
And then her phone buzzed.
It was Marcus.
Meet me. Tonight. The roof of the old library.
Her heart pounded. She typed back immediately: I'll be there.
The library roof was their secret place, one they had only been to once before. It overlooked the town, the stars scattering like shards of glass across the night sky. When Sophie climbed the fire escape and pulled herself over the ledge, Marcus was already there, sitting on the edge with his hood down, staring at the horizon.
He looked tired, bruised, broken—but beautiful.
"You came," he said without looking at her.
"Of course I did," Sophie whispered, walking to him. She sat beside him, their knees brushing, the town spread out below like a map of shadows and light.
For a long time, neither of them spoke. The wind whipped around them, carrying the scent of rain. Sophie traced the cracks in the roof with her fingers, her heart pounding. Finally, Marcus broke the silence.
"I don't think I can win this," he said softly.
Her chest tightened. "Then don't fight to win. Fight to survive."
He turned to her, his eyes searching, desperate. "And what if surviving means losing you?"
"Then we find another way," Sophie whispered fiercely. "Because I'm not letting you go. Not now. Not ever."
His eyes glistened. Slowly, he reached for her hand, threading his fingers through hers. "I don't know how to be what you see in me."
"Then let me show you," she said.
And she kissed him under the stars, slow and aching, pouring every ounce of herself into him, into the way their lips met, into the way their hands clung. It wasn't enough. It would never be enough. But it was all they had.
When they pulled apart, Marcus rested his forehead against hers, his voice breaking. "If I fall, Sophie… promise me you'll burn with me."
Her tears slipped free. "Always."
The stars glittered above them, cold and indifferent. Below, the town slept, oblivious to the fire brewing in its shadows. And on the roof of the old library, Sophie and Marcus held each other, two broken souls chained together, waiting for the storm they knew was coming.