IRYNA
The moment the elevator doors slid open, I ran.
I didn't wait. I didn't think. I didn't even breathe properly—I just ran. All I knew was that I needed to get out before he saw my face.
Because if Dark saw me like this—if he saw how shaken I was, how exposed—I would lose whatever little control I had left. And I refused to give him that. I refused to let him see me break over words that shouldn't have mattered in the first place.
My heels struck the polished floor in uneven beats as I pushed through the lobby, my chest rising and falling too fast, too hard.
Why… why had I thought—even for a second—that this was anything more than his stupid anchor?
The thought burned.
I had actually believed we could work together. That somehow, through all of this madness, I would come to understand him. That maybe—just maybe—I wouldn't regret agreeing to this.
Stupid. So fucking stupid. He had always told me what he was. Selfish. Cold. Unfeeling.
So why was I angry?
I slowed slightly, my steps faltering as that question settled deep in my chest.
Why did it feel like something inside me had cracked?
Because it wasn't just anger. It was something else. Something I couldn't quite name. Something that made my chest ache in a way that didn't make sense.
There was something I had expected to hear from him. I didn't know what it was—but it wasn't that. It wasn't the blunt, brutal truth he had thrown at me like I was nothing more than a vessel.
If it weren't for this anchor—
I let out a shaky breath. If it weren't for this thing inside me, we would have absolutely nothing to do with each other.
Nothing.
And if he thought he could dictate my life—my choices—just because I was carrying something he wanted… Then he was completely wrong.
I clenched my fists. I fucking hate him.
"Iryna! Iryna, wait!"
Footsteps echoed behind me, fast and uneven.
Ciara.
Of course she followed. A part of me wished she hadn't.
Maybe I shouldn't have followed her to that stupid library that day. Maybe I should have ignored everything—ignored the warnings, ignored the signs—and just… accepted it.
Accepted that I had a month left to live.
Because at least then— At least then I wouldn't be dealing with this.
But—
I slowed again. Because no matter how much I wanted to deny it… there was one thing he had said that was true.
The pain. Goodness, the pain.
My hand unconsciously pressed against my chest as the memory resurfaced—the burning, suffocating agony that had once been constant.
And the relief.
His presence alone had been like a drug. Every time he touched me, every time he held me, it was like the pain melted away into nothing.
It had been terrifying. And addictive. Because for the first time in so long, I had felt… free. And I couldn't stop myself from wondering—
What would it feel like to live like that?
Without pain. Without fear. Without constantly counting down the days until my body gave out.
I swallowed hard.
"I'm tired," I whispered to myself.
So tired of everything.
"Iryna, stop!"
The sudden pull on my arm snapped me out of my thoughts, bringing me to an abrupt halt.
I turned, slightly breathless, to see Ciara standing in front of me, her chest rising as she tried to catch her breath. A small frown creased her face, her eyes scanning mine with worry.
"What is wrong with you?" she demanded. "I've been calling you, but you wouldn't stop. Where are you even going? What happened?"
I swallowed, forcing my expression to settle into something calmer than I felt.
"Nothing happened," I said, exhaling. "I just… want to get out of here."
Ciara's frown deepened.
"Don't do that, Ryna."
I looked away.
"What do you mean nothing happened?" she continued. "You were literally about to punch Dark in the design room, and then he shut me out in the elevator, and now you come out here looking like—"
She stopped herself, but it was too late. Looking like what? Pathetic? Broken?
My vision blurred slightly as tears threatened to rise again, and I clenched my jaw, hating how easily my emotions betrayed me.
Gosh, I hated this. I hated how soft I was. This was exactly why my exes had always found it so easy to play with me.
"I said what I wanted to say," I muttered. "And he… said what he wanted."
My voice dipped slightly. "He said what you'd expect a demon to say."
Ciara's expression softened immediately. She stepped closer, her hand coming to rest gently on my shoulder.
"Hey," she said quietly. "Don't be sad. Did he say something mean?"
I rolled my eyes, blinking rapidly to keep the tears from falling.
"It's nothing serious," I said, forcing a small shrug. "I'm just being too emotional."
Ciara's jaw tightened.
"I don't care what he is," she said firmly. "He has no right to make you cry. Who does he think he is?"
"A demon who can do very bad things, Ciara."
She hesitated.
"Well… yes, but that doesn't mean I'm sc—scared of him."
I bit back a small smile at the obvious tremor in her voice.
She was terrified.
And yet, here she was, trying to defend me anyway.
"It's fine," I said softly. "I just want to leave. I don't want to see him. I don't want to talk to him. And I definitely don't want to hear anything about that stupid wedding."
Ciara reached up and cupped my face, forcing me to look at her like I was a child she needed to reason with.
"No, Ryna," she said gently. "Have you forgotten why you agreed to this?"
I hesitated.
"You need him to live," she continued. "And through this marriage, you'll find out everything we need to know about him. That was the plan."
Her gaze sharpened slightly.
"We never said anything about letting emotions get in the way."
"It's not emotions," I said quickly.
"It is."
Her voice softened again.
"You're soft, Ryna. My soft baby. And that's okay—but you can't forget who you're dealing with."
I looked away.
"He's not human," she continued. "He can't feel. No guilt, no empathy… nothing. He doesn't care about your feelings."
My chest tightened again.
"But demons don't go back on their word," she added.
I scoffed lightly.
"And how are you so sure about that? Don't tell me it's from your books again, because that doesn't help."
Ciara froze. Just for a second. Then she bit her lower lip.
"Someone… told me," she admitted quietly.
I narrowed my eyes.
"Who?"
She shook her head immediately.
"I can't tell you. Not here. Dark could be listening."
I stared at her for a moment, then sighed.
"Fine."
I pulled my hands away from hers.
"Well, I need to go."
She didn't stop me this time, but she held my hands again briefly.
"I'm not stopping you, Ryna," she said softly. "I'm just asking you to think."
Her grip tightened slightly.
"Ignore what he says. Ignore how he acts—that's his nature. When he's nice, remember it's because of the anchor. When he's mean, remember that's who he is."
Her eyes searched mine.
"Don't back out now. This is your chance to live."
I stared at her. At the sincerity. The fear. The hope. And slowly, my shoulders sagged.
"I… don't know, Ciara," I admitted. "I'm only human."
My voice wavered slightly.
"And it's hard. Especially when I can't control how I feel when the anchor reacts to him. It's… insane."
Because it was. The way it pulled me toward him. The way it reacted when he was close. The way my heart raced when he touched me. And the emptiness when he wasn't there—
I clenched my jaw. Ciara nodded.
"That's because it's tied to him. That's how the bond works."
She sighed.
"But this will never work if you both keep clashing like this. Stop being stubborn."
A small, reluctant smile tugged at my lips.
"Funny," I muttered. "He's worse than me."
She laughed softly.
"And that's saying something."
I exhaled.
"I've heard you," I said after a moment. "I'll… continue with the wedding."
The words felt heavy, but necessary.
"And I'll try to work with his annoying ass."
Ciara's face lit up instantly, and she pulled me into a tight hug.
"I just want to keep you," she whispered. "Even if this is what it takes."
I hugged her back, softer this time.
"Your mom is really happy about this," she added. "It would break her if you pulled out now."
I nodded slowly as we pulled apart.
"Yeah… I know."
I glanced behind her instinctively. Half-expecting—
Hoping—
No. There was no sign of him. Of course not. He probably left the moment I did. So much for someone who claimed not to feel anything. He sure knew how to express his anger.
I looked away quickly.
"Let's go," Ciara said.
"Yeah… just give me a minute. I need a drink."
She nodded.
"I'll head back to the design shop and finish up. Meet me after?"
"Okay."
"Take care of yourself."
"I will."
She smiled, then turned and walked away. I watched her go before exhaling deeply and heading toward the small counter at the far end. I needed something cold. Something to clear my head.
I slid onto one of the stools.
"What flavor would you like, miss?" the server asked with a polite smile.
"Pineapple," I replied quietly.
He nodded. "Right away."
I rested my elbows on the counter, absentmindedly playing with the small charm attached to my bag.
And despite everything—
Despite my efforts—
My mind drifted back to the elevator. To him. That bastard.
A sudden shift in the air made me pause. It was subtle. But noticeable. Like a quiet ripple. My fingers stilled.
Dark?
Was he still here? Had he followed me? My heart skipped as I turned slightly—
But he wasn't there. No dark presence. No suffocating pull. Nothing.
And for some reason—
A strange, unwelcome disappointment settled in my chest. I frowned slightly, about to turn back—
When I saw someone.
He stood a few steps away at the counter behind me. Tall. Still.
Unfamiliar.
He wore a long white jacket, clean and soft-looking, and a blue cap that cast a faint shadow over his face. Strands of cream-colored hair slipped out from beneath it, brushing lightly against his shoulders.
There was something about him. Something… different.
The server handed him a drink, and he took it with an easy grace before turning slightly—
And then our eyes met. Green. His eyes were green.
Bright. Clear. Beautiful.
My breath caught. For a second, I forgot everything else. The anger. The confusion. Even Dark. Because this man—
He didn't feel heavy. He didn't feel dangerous. He felt…
Light.
And for the first time in what felt like forever—
I didn't feel suffocated. I just… stared. And wondered—
Do angels walk the earth like this?