Sophie couldn't shake the thought. It clung to her like a parasite, the whisper that echoed louder than Ethan's taunts: If you want to save him, you'll have to follow him into the dark.
It wasn't courage that made her consider it. It was desperation. Courage implied choice; she had none. Marcus was slipping, and the tether between them was fraying. She could already see it in his eyes—every time Ethan spoke, a little more light bled out, replaced with something Sophie didn't recognize.
By morning, she knew. She couldn't keep patching wounds and whispering promises. She couldn't wait for Ethan to come knocking. She had to go to him.
But how?
Marcus stirred when she tried to stand, his hand brushing her arm. His eyes fluttered open, red and weary. "Where are you going?"
Her heart stuttered. She forced a smile. "Bathroom."
He studied her, suspicious even through exhaustion. "Don't lie to me."
Sophie swallowed. "I won't let him take you. That means I have to—" She bit her tongue before finishing.
Marcus pushed himself up, wincing at his bruises. "No. Whatever you're thinking, don't. He's poison. You can't drink it for me."
Her throat burned. "What if that's the only way?"
"Then let me rot," Marcus whispered, eyes glossy. "Better me than you."
Sophie grabbed his face, forcing him to meet her gaze. "Don't you dare ask me to watch you disappear. If you fall, I fall. That's how this works."
He closed his eyes, a tear slipping free. "You're going to kill yourself for me."
"No," Sophie said fiercely. "I'm going to kill him for you."
Marcus's breath caught, but he didn't argue. He knew there was no stopping her now.
That night, Sophie walked alone. The streets were empty, hushed with the kind of silence that held its breath before a scream. She carried nothing but her notebook, clutched tight against her chest like a shield.
She didn't know where she was going—only that her feet carried her toward the outskirts, to the abandoned trainyard where Ethan liked to linger. The place smelled of rust and oil, its skeleton of tracks twisting into the horizon.
And he was there.
Ethan leaned against a rusted freight car, cigarette glowing between his fingers, eyes glinting in the dark. He looked almost casual, like a man waiting for a friend.
"I wondered when you'd come," he said, his grin slow and sharp.
Sophie's throat tightened. "Where's Marcus?"
"Safe," Ethan said. "For now."
Her nails dug into the notebook's cover. "What do you want from him?"
Ethan exhaled smoke, the ember burning like an eye in the dark. "Want? Sophie, I am him. The part he buries. The part you pretend doesn't exist. I don't take—I reveal."
"That's a lie," she spat. "You're nothing but rot."
His laugh was soft, almost affectionate. "Then why are you here? If you truly believed that, you'd keep away. But you know the truth—you can't reach him without me."
Sophie's pulse hammered. She hated how right it felt. Ethan had woven himself so deep into Marcus that Sophie couldn't pry him free without stepping into the same snare.
"Let me see him," she demanded.
Ethan tilted his head, considering. "What will you give me in return?"
"Nothing." Her voice was steel. "You don't own me."
His grin widened. "Not yet."
Before she could move, he snapped his fingers. Shadows thickened around the yard, swallowing the space between them. Sophie's breath hitched—because in the heart of that darkness, she saw Marcus.
He stood a few feet away, his body rigid, his eyes hollow. Chains of shadow wrapped around his arms and chest, not metal but something worse—psychological, suffocating.
"Marcus!" Sophie rushed forward, but the shadows rose like walls, forcing her back. She slammed her palms against them, her throat raw with his name.
He looked at her, and for a moment, recognition flickered. His lips parted, but no sound came out.
Ethan stepped between them, his voice silk and venom. "See? He's already mine. You're just the echo he clings to before silence."
"No," Sophie growled. She pressed the notebook against the wall of shadow, slamming it again and again. Words spilled from her mouth, frantic and wild. "He's mine! Do you hear me? He belongs here, with me, not you!"
The shadows trembled. Ethan's grin faltered. Marcus's eyes widened, light sparking faintly within them.
Sophie's voice broke into a scream. "You are mine!"
The shadows cracked. Marcus stumbled forward, gasping, the chains dissolving into smoke. Ethan snarled, his composure shattering.
"You stupid girl," he hissed. "Do you think ink and desperation can save him?"
Sophie held Marcus against her, her arms tight, her voice shaking but steady. "Not ink. Not desperation. Love. And it's stronger than you."
Ethan's eyes blazed with fury. "We'll see."
He vanished into the dark, leaving the yard hollow and reeking of smoke.
Marcus sagged in Sophie's arms, trembling. "You shouldn't have come."
She clutched him tighter. "And yet I did."
For a moment, silence hung heavy. Then Marcus whispered, so softly she almost missed it: "I don't know if I can fight him forever."
Sophie pressed her forehead to his. "Then we fight together. Until the end."
The night didn't answer. The darkness only listened, waiting.
Marcus could hardly walk by the time Sophie got him back to her room. His legs buckled beneath him, and she half carried him up the stairs, her muscles screaming with effort. She managed to ease him onto her bed, pulling the blanket around his trembling frame.
His skin was ice, his breaths shallow. Sophie wiped sweat from his brow, whispering his name, but his eyes fluttered between open and closed as if he were drifting into a place she couldn't follow.
Her panic spiked. Was Ethan still inside him, feeding off the fight?
She grabbed her notebook again, flipping to a blank page, scribbling his name over and over: Marcus. Marcus. Marcus. The ink bled into the paper, the pages filling with frantic devotion. She pressed the words against his chest, as if the force of her handwriting could anchor him back to her.
Minutes dragged like hours before he stirred. His eyes opened slowly, bloodshot but alive. "Sophie…"
She let out a broken laugh, clutching his face in her hands. "You're here."
"For now," he whispered.
"No," she snapped, tears burning down her cheeks. "Not 'for now.' You're staying. I don't care what it takes."
He reached for her hand, fingers trembling. "You don't understand. Every time he pulls, I feel myself… agreeing. Like a voice I can't shut out. He doesn't just want me—he is me. I'm rotting from the inside."
Her throat closed, but she shook her head fiercely. "You're more than him. He's just the shadow—you're the person. And shadows can't exist without light."
His lips curved in a faint, pained smile. "You always talk like I'm worth saving."
"You are."
"Even if I become him?"
Sophie leaned close, her voice steady though her heart shook. "Then I'll burn with you. But I'll never let you go to him willingly."
Silence stretched. Then Marcus buried his face in her shoulder, sobbing silently. Sophie held him, her arms iron around him, even as exhaustion gnawed at her bones.
But when she finally drifted into uneasy sleep, the nightmare returned.
She stood in the same trainyard, only this time Marcus wasn't chained. He was standing beside Ethan, their figures almost identical in the dark. Ethan's arm draped across Marcus's shoulders, casual, possessive.
"See how natural it is?" Ethan whispered, his smile cutting. "He fits with me better than with you."
Sophie's scream tore through the dream. She ran, but her legs felt heavy, her steps sinking into invisible mud. The closer she came, the further they drifted away.
Marcus turned his head toward her. His eyes glowed faintly—not the warmth she loved, but the cold burn of Ethan's gaze. "Maybe he's right," he said.
Sophie jolted awake, drenched in sweat. The room was dark, Marcus still curled beside her, breathing slow and even. But his hand twitched, his jaw clenched, as though he were trapped in his own nightmare.
She pressed her palm against his chest, whispering. "You're mine. Stay with me."
Hours passed before dawn bled into the sky. Neither of them truly slept.
At school that day, Sophie couldn't focus. Every sound made her flinch, every shadow felt like Ethan watching. Marcus didn't come—he was too broken, too bruised. She felt his absence like a hole in her chest.
In the hallway, she found another note in her locker. Her hands shook as she unfolded it.
If you want him, Sophie, you'll have to give me something in return. You know where to find me.
Her stomach turned to ice. Ethan was changing the rules. He wasn't just playing with Marcus anymore—he was pulling her into the game directly.
That night, Sophie returned to the yard. She hadn't told Marcus—he would never allow it. But she couldn't ignore the note.
Ethan was waiting, perched on the edge of a broken train car, his smile wolfish. "I knew you'd come."
She clenched her fists. "What do you want from me?"
"Not much," he said casually. "A sliver. A seed. Let me in, just a little, and I'll loosen my grip on him."
Her blood ran cold. "You think I'd let you touch me?"
He chuckled. "You already have. Every time you whisper his name to drag him back, you whisper mine too. You can't separate us. We're a package deal."
"That's a lie."
"Then prove it. Keep him without me."
Sophie's fury burned hot enough to choke her fear. "I will."
Ethan leaned forward, his grin wide and sharp. "Then let's see how long you last before you break."
His laughter echoed long after the yard was empty, slithering into Sophie's mind like a curse.
When she returned to Marcus, she found him sitting in the dark, eyes vacant, as though he'd been waiting for her to fail.
"Where were you?" His voice was quiet, too quiet.
She lied. "Nowhere."
But his gaze sharpened, and for an instant, she swore she saw Ethan's shadow in his eyes.
Her heart froze. Ethan wasn't just in Marcus anymore. He was in her too.