The night air was thick with the scent of rain and blood as Kieran led Selene away from the ruins of Damien's stronghold. The neon lights of the city flickered in the distance, a haunting contrast to the darkness that still clung to them.
Selene's hands were trembling. Whether from exhaustion, adrenaline, or something deeper, she didn't know.
She was free.
So why did it feel like her freedom was nothing more than an illusion?
Kieran had barely spoken since they left. His grip on her wrist was firm but not painful—yet it felt like a shackle all the same.
She should be grateful.
He had risked everything for her.
But the way he looked at her now…
Like he had finally won.
Like she belonged to him.
—
Kieran felt her tension, felt the hesitation in every step she took beside him.
She was waiting for him to let her go.
To set her free.
She doesn't understand.
He hadn't fought this war just to walk away.
Selene had been stolen from him once. Betrayed by fate, by his own blood, by the twisted bond Damien had forced upon her.
But now, nothing stood between them.
No chains.
No curses.
No one to keep them apart.
So why did she look at him with fear in her eyes?
Kieran's jaw clenched as he pulled her closer, his voice low. "You're shaking."
Selene stiffened. "I'm fine."
He stopped walking.
She did too, hesitating as his grip tightened just slightly, keeping her anchored to him.
The streets were empty, the shadows stretching long beneath the glow of streetlights.
"I know you don't trust me yet," he said, voice quieter now. "But I did this for you, Selene. I need you to understand that."
Her eyes flickered with something unreadable. "You did this for yourself."
His chest tightened.
Maybe she was right.
Maybe this obsession had long since twisted into something beyond saving.
But he didn't care.
Because Selene was his.
And no matter how much she fought it—
She always had been.
—
Selene swallowed hard.
She needed space. Distance. Time to think.
But the way Kieran looked at her now, like he could see the war inside her, made it impossible to breathe.
He had just killed for her.
Destroyed for her.
And yet, instead of relief, all she felt was a creeping sense of dread.
Because she had spent years trapped under Damien's control.
And now, she wasn't sure if she had just traded one cage for another.
This one wasn't made of iron.
It was made of gold.
And the worst part?
A part of her wasn't sure if she even wanted to escape.