Anya's POV
New York had never felt this suffocating.
After what happened at the library—the closeness, Liam's voice against her skin, his jealousy like a shadow wrapping around her—I couldn't sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I felt his fingers on my waist. His breath. His anger. His need.
But also… the fear.
Not of him hurting me.
Fear of how much I wanted the danger.
I kept replaying his words.
"If he touches you again, I swear—"
He hadn't finished the sentence.
He didn't need to.
Now, it was morning. My dorm room felt colder, walls too close, air too thin. I hadn't spoken to Liam since last night. A part of me wanted him to come find me.
A bigger part feared what would happen if he actually did.
Just as I pulled my hair into a bun, a knock echoed.
Not gentle. Hard.
Thud.
My heart jumped.
I opened the door.
Liam stood there.
Eyes bloodshot. Jaw tight. Hair messy like he hadn't slept either.
He didn't wait for permission. He stepped inside and shut the door behind him.
The click of the lock echoed like a warning.
"Why didn't you answer my texts?" he asked, voice low and rough.
"I… needed space."
"From me?"
His chest rose in a slow, dangerous breath.
"Anya, you don't get space from me."
The room instantly felt smaller.
"I didn't do anything wrong," I whispered.
He laughed—dark, humorless.
"You think this is about wrong? Anya, you disappear, and every part of me goes insane."
I swallowed.
"You scared me yesterday."
He stopped. Completely still.
Not blinking.
Not breathing.
Then he stepped closer, each movement deliberate, predatory.
"You think I want to scare you?"
"You… you grabbed me—"
"I pulled you away," he corrected, voice sharp. "He touched you. I reacted."
"You didn't have to—"
"Yes. I did."
His hand lifted. I flinched.
He froze, hurting more from the flinch than I did.
"Anya…" His voice cracked. "I would never hurt you."
Silence.
Only our uneven breathing.
Then he took my wrist—so gently it made my chest ache—and placed it over his heart.
It was racing. Uncontrolled. Violent.
"This is what you do to me," he whispered. "You make me crazy."
I pulled my hand back, overwhelmed.
"Liam, this… whatever this is—it's too much."
His jaw flexed.
"Then tell me to walk away."
My lips parted.
But nothing came out.
He saw the answer in my eyes before I could speak.
He moved closer, caging me against the wall, but not touching.
"I knew it," he breathed. "You want me just as much."
My voice trembled.
"That doesn't mean this is right."
"I don't care about right."
His forehead rested against mine.
"I care about you."
And something in me broke.
Because I knew—
If Liam Carter ever fell for someone…
he'd fall violently.
Possessively.
Dangerously.
And right now, all that darkness was aimed at me.
---
LIAM'S POV
She thinks she can hide from me.
That she can shut a door, ignore a message, and I'll simply vanish.
She doesn't understand what she's done.
What she's become to me.
When I woke up this morning, the first thought in my head was her name. The second was the image of that guy touching her arm.
I nearly smashed my phone.
But when she opened the door…
When I saw fear in her eyes because of me…
Something inside me hollowed out.
I wanted to tear myself apart.
Not because I'm sorry for being jealous—I'm not.
I'd do worse if someone else tried to touch what's mine.
Yes.
Mine.
But I never wanted her to be scared of me.
When she flinched as I raised my hand—God, that killed me.
I wanted to fall to my knees and beg her to believe me.
I'm not the monster she thinks.
But I will be for her.
I'll burn the world if it keeps her safe.
And when she couldn't tell me to walk away…
when her eyes whispered stay even when her lips stayed silent…
I knew.
There's a darkness between us.
One she tries to run from.
One I stopped running from long ago.
I leaned closer, letting her feel how much control she had over me.
Letting her hear the truth in every unsteady breath.
"I'm not letting you go," I told her.
"Not now. Not ever."
Her breath hitched.
Good.
She needs to understand something.
I can survive anything.
Anya's POV
If Liam was a storm…
then today, I needed sunlight.
I needed normal.
So when two girls from my English Lit class waved at me in the hallway, I didn't avoid them like I usually might have.
"Hey! You're Anya, right?"
The girl with caramel-brown curls smiled. Her name was Maya Rodriguez—loud, funny, the first person who made me laugh in class.
Next to her stood Harper Lee, quiet but warm, with sharp green eyes that seemed to see everything.
"We're grabbing coffee off campus," Maya said. "Come with us?"
I hesitated.
Then I thought of Liam's voice in my room—
"You don't get space from me."
I needed space.
"I'd love to," I said.
And for a few hours…
it felt good.
We talked about stupid professors, overpriced textbooks, New York weather. Maya kept teasing Harper for her "resting assassin face," and Harper pretended not to smile.
I felt almost… normal.
But when I checked my phone, my stomach dropped.
11 missed calls.
7 messages.
Liam: Where are you?
Liam: Answer me.
Liam: Anya this isn't funny.
Liam: Come outside. Now.
My hands went cold.
Before I could respond—
The café door opened.
And he walked in.
Liam.
Eyes dark. Chest heaving like he ran here. That dangerous calm wrapped around him like a second skin.
He spotted me instantly.
"Anya."
His voice was low, sharp enough to cut.
Maya blinked. "Is that… your boyfriend?"
"No!" I said too fast. "He's just—"
But Liam reached our table before I could finish.
He didn't look at the girls.
Only me.
"Why weren't you answering?" he asked.
"I was busy."
"With who?"
His gaze flicked to Maya and Harper—cold, assessing, territorial.
Maya raised an eyebrow. "Dude, chill. We're just classmates."
"Did I ask you?"
Liam's voice dropped, iced.
"Liam—" I whispered. "Stop."
He turned back to me, jaw tight.
"You just… disappeared."
"I'm allowed to have friends."
Something flashed in his eyes—hurt, quickly buried beneath anger.
"I'm not saying you're not," he said, voice cracking just slightly, "but you could have told me."
"You don't own me."
He froze, breath catching like I'd punched him.
And suddenly the café felt too quiet, too still.
His fists clenched. Not in violence—but in restraint.
"I know that," he said hoarsely. "But you matter to me. And when you don't answer, I—"
He didn't finish.
Because emotions slammed through him—fear, jealousy, confusion—and for the first time since I met him…
Liam looked breakable.
"I thought something happened to you," he said, voice raw. "I—I panicked, Anya."
My chest tightened.
Before I could speak—
A guy from the next table walked by, bumping into my chair by accident.
"Sorry," he muttered.
I smiled politely. "It's okay—"
Liam grabbed the guy's arm.
Hard.
"You didn't see her sitting?" he snapped. "Watch where you're going."
The guy stepped back, startled.
"Relax, man. It was an accident."
"Liam!" I stood up, heart hammering. "Let him go."
His jaw was tight enough to break.
His breathing harsh.
But slowly—painfully—he released the guy.
Maya whispered, "Anya… are you sure you're okay?"
Liam turned to her with a forced calm.
"She is."
I stepped between them.
"No. I decide that."
His eyes widened—like he wasn't used to being questioned.
Like he wasn't used to feeling this much.
"Can we talk outside?" I asked softly.
He nodded, swallowing hard.
Outside, the cold air hit us like reality.
"Liam… you scared me," I whispered.
He pressed his palms against his forehead, pacing.
"I know. I know—dammit."
He dragged a hand through his hair, breathing hard.
"I'm trying, Anya. I'm trying not to lose it. But when I saw you with them, laughing, ignoring me—"
His voice broke.
"The idea of someone else getting close to you… I hate it. It makes me feel—"
He shook his head helplessly.
"—out of control."
I took a step closer.
This wasn't anger.
This was fear—twisted, dark, desperate fear of losing something he never expected to want.
He looked up, eyes shining with something raw.
"I don't want to be this way," he said. "But I don't know how to stop."
My heart cracked.
Because under all the obsession…
under the jealousy…
there was a boy who didn't know how to handle how much he cared.
"Liam," I whispered, "you need to trust me."
He nodded, breathing unevenly.
"I'm trying," he said. "But I'm terrified. Because I've never felt like this. Not for anyone."
His voice fell to a whisper.
"And I don't know what I'll lose if I lose you."