The morning after Marcus didn't come, Sophie felt as though she were moving through water. Every step dragged, every breath heavy. Her notebook, heavy in her bag, felt like the only anchor keeping her tethered to the world.
When she entered the school courtyard, Marcus was already there. He leaned against the far wall, hood pulled low, eyes shadowed. For a moment, she thought he looked like Ethan—distant, unreachable. Her stomach twisted.
"Why didn't you come last night?" she asked when she reached him.
He shrugged, not meeting her eyes. "Didn't trust myself."
The words cut deeper than a blade. "Marcus…"
He finally looked at her, his gaze hollow. "Every time I'm near you, I'm terrified I'll bring him with me. That I'll wake up in the middle of the night and not know if it's my hand holding you, or his."
Her throat tightened. She grabbed his hoodie, yanking him closer, her voice fierce. "Don't you dare say that. You are not him. You will never be him."
Marcus flinched, his hands twitching at his sides. "You didn't see his face last night. The way he looked at me. Like he already knew he'd won."
Sophie wanted to scream, to shake him until the poison bled out, but instead she pressed her forehead to his chest. "Then we fight harder. Together."
For a moment, his arms came around her, tentative, desperate. But even in his embrace, Sophie felt the fracture widening.
Later that day, a new note appeared in her locker. This time, it wasn't folded neatly. It was torn, jagged, written in streaks of black marker.
He won't come to you tonight. He'll come to me. And when he does, I'll make sure you hear every scream.
Sophie's hands shook so violently she dropped the paper. Her vision blurred, her chest hollowing. She crouched to pick it up, shoving it deep into her bag before Marcus appeared down the hall.
She couldn't let him see it. Not this.
That night, Sophie sat by her window, waiting. Hours passed. Midnight came and went. No Marcus.
The silence was unbearable. She opened her notebook, scribbling desperately: He is not yours. He is not yours. He is not yours. Over and over until the page was black with ink.
Then—footsteps outside.
Her heart leapt. She rushed to the window, ready to pull Marcus inside.
But it wasn't Marcus.
Ethan stood in the yard, his face tilted up toward her window, his grin wide, slow, poisonous. He raised a hand in a mockery of a wave.
Sophie froze, her breath locking in her chest.
And then Marcus's voice echoed from the shadows: "Get away from her!"
Sophie's heart stopped.
Marcus emerged from the darkness, fists clenched, eyes blazing. Ethan's grin widened, as though this were exactly what he wanted.
The storm wasn't just coming. It was here.
Marcus's roar split the night, and he lunged from the shadows like a storm breaking loose. Sophie's scream caught in her throat as Ethan only smiled wider, stepping back just enough to draw Marcus in.
"Marcus, wait!" Sophie cried, but her voice was drowned by the pounding of Marcus's fists against the air, his body trembling with rage as he closed the distance.
Ethan raised his hands in mock surrender. "Careful, brother. She's watching. Wouldn't want her to see what you really are."
Marcus slammed into him, knocking him back against the fence. The wood cracked with the impact. Rain from earlier storms slicked the ground, and mud splattered across their clothes as they grappled.
Sophie ran down the stairs, heart hammering, her bare feet slapping against the hardwood. By the time she reached the yard, Marcus had Ethan pinned, his fists a blur. Blood splattered across the ground, indistinguishable from the mud.
"Marcus, stop!" Sophie screamed, pulling at his arm. Her hands slid across his soaked hoodie, her fingers clutching desperately. "He wants this! Don't give it to him!"
Marcus's fist hovered above Ethan's face, trembling violently. His breathing was ragged, his eyes wild with fire.
Ethan spat blood, grinning up at Sophie through swollen lips. "See? This is who he is. No matter how much he loves you, no matter how much you beg—he'll always come back to me."
Marcus's roar shook the night. He drove his fist down—
—but Sophie shoved herself between them, her hands braced against his chest. His punch stopped an inch from her face, his eyes widening in horror.
"Sophie—" His voice broke, his body convulsing with restraint.
She grabbed his hoodie, tears streaming down her face. "Look at me! Look at me, Marcus! He doesn't own you. I do. You're mine. Not his."
Marcus trembled, his fist falling to his side. He collapsed against her, burying his face in her shoulder, his entire body shaking.
Ethan coughed, spitting blood into the mud, and slowly rose to his knees. His smile never faltered. "Touching. Truly touching. But you can't hold him forever, Sophie. One day, you'll slip. And when you do, he'll fall into me completely."
Sophie turned, fury blazing through her tears. "Then I'll never slip. I'll bleed myself dry before I let you take him."
Ethan tilted his head, studying her. Then he laughed, low and chilling. "We'll see."
He slipped into the shadows, vanishing as if the night itself had swallowed him whole.
Marcus clung to Sophie, his breath ragged, his body collapsing against hers. "I almost—God, Sophie, I almost—"
She held him tighter, whispering fiercely into his hair. "You didn't. That's what matters. You chose me."
His sob was muffled against her shoulder, raw and broken. "I don't know how much longer I can fight him."
Her tears soaked his hair. "Then let me fight too. You don't have to carry this alone."
They sank into the mud together, two shattered souls clutching each other under the silent, watching stars.
But in the distance, Sophie swore she could still hear Ethan's laughter echoing through the trees.
And she knew the war was far from over.