Adrian's grip on Elena's wrist was iron as he pulled her down the fire escape. Each step echoed with his fury, his restraint fraying at the edges. The city lights burned below them, but to Adrian, the world was drowned in crimson.
He had wanted to kill him.
That ridiculous senior—Damian. The very sound of his name was poison. The way he had touched Elena's hand, held her gaze with such confidence, as if he had a right. As if he could offer her something Adrian could not.
The devil inside him snarled. His shadows whispered, End him. Tear him apart. Crush him until not even his soul dares to remember her name.
But then she had spoken. Elena—her voice breaking, trembling, begging them to stop.
It was the only reason Damian still breathed.
When they reached the ground, Adrian didn't release her. He couldn't. His claws might as well have been buried into her skin—not from malice, but from a desperate, gnawing fear that if he let go, she would slip away.
She tried to pull her hand free. "Adrian, please—"
"Not a word." His voice was low, dangerous.
Her lips parted, hurt flashing in her eyes, but she obeyed. She walked beside him, silent, her wrist caught in his grasp like a bird tethered to a storm.
They stopped when they reached the sleek black car parked at the curb. His driver stepped forward, opening the door, but Adrian waved him off sharply. "Leave us."
The man hesitated only a second before bowing and retreating into the shadows.
Adrian opened the door himself, guiding Elena inside with a force gentler than his grip suggested. He slid in after her, shutting the world out with the slam of metal.
The silence in the car was suffocating.
Elena sat stiffly, her hands clasped in her lap, her eyes fixed on the cityscape rushing past the window. She wouldn't look at him.
It was unbearable.
Finally, Adrian broke the silence, his voice edged with a quiet fury he could barely contain. "Do you know what you just did?"
Her eyes flicked to him, startled. "What I did?"
"You let him touch you." His tone sharpened, venom curling around each syllable. "You let him hold your hand. Right in front of me."
Her brows furrowed, her voice trembling but defiant. "Because he was protecting me! You were about to—Adrian, you were about to kill him!"
His smile was thin, dangerous. "And you would have preferred that I let him steal you from me?"
Her breath caught, a flush rising in her cheeks. "No one's stealing me. I'm not—" She swallowed, voice breaking. "I'm not yours to steal."
The words hit him like a blade, slicing deep, but instead of bleeding, he burned. His laughter filled the car—low, humorless, filled with something wild.
"Not mine?" He leaned closer, his crimson eyes locking onto hers, unblinking, consuming. "Elena, everything about you is mine. Your fear. Your smile. Your breath. Even the way you're trembling right now." His hand lifted, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek with deliberate slowness. "Especially that trembling."
Her pulse thundered in her throat. She wanted to push him away, to deny him, but her body betrayed her, leaning ever so slightly toward his touch.
Adrian saw it. Felt it. And it only stoked the fire.
"You think he can give you freedom?" Adrian whispered, his lips close enough that she felt the heat of his words on her skin. "Freedom doesn't keep you alive. Freedom doesn't shield you from monsters. Freedom won't protect you when the world decides to devour you." His hand slid down, curling around her jaw, tilting her face to his. "But I will."
Elena's eyes shone, torn between anger and something softer, something she refused to name. "You scare me," she whispered.
He stilled.
For a moment, silence stretched, fragile and raw. His thumb brushed against her skin, slow, almost tender.
"Good," Adrian murmured, his voice low, dangerous yet aching. "Fear keeps you close."
Her lips parted in shock, in protest, but he silenced her with a look.
"Don't mistake me, Elena." His tone softened, just slightly. "I don't want your fear. I want your trust. But if fear is the only way to keep you from running to him…" His eyes darkened, his jaw tightening. "…then so be it."
She swallowed hard, her chest rising and falling too quickly.
The car stopped in front of his penthouse. Adrian didn't wait for the driver; he opened the door, stepping out, then extended his hand to her. His eyes commanded, but beneath the steel, there was a flicker of desperation.
Elena hesitated. For a heartbeat, she thought of Damian—his warmth, his promise of freedom, the stars in his voice.
But Adrian's hand was there, unwavering, powerful. A chain and a shield all at once.
Her fingers trembled as she placed her hand in his.
Satisfaction flickered in Adrian's gaze. He guided her inside, up the private elevator, and into the vast expanse of his penthouse. The city sprawled beneath the floor-to-ceiling windows, glittering like jewels.
Adrian didn't release her hand until they stood in the living room. Finally, he turned, his eyes softer now, though the storm hadn't passed.
"Elena," he said quietly, almost pleading. "Don't make me your enemy. Don't let him turn you against me."
Her lips quivered. "You're doing that yourself."
The words pierced him more deeply than Damian's defiance ever could. For a moment, he looked almost human—tired, broken, desperate.
He stepped back, running a hand through his hair, laughter escaping him—low, bitter. "So that's how it is. You'll let him play hero, while I'm the villain in your story."
Her eyes softened, tears threatening. "Adrian… I never asked for heroes or villains. I just want to live."
Something inside him cracked at that. His shadows stilled. His chest ached with a pain he couldn't name.
For the first time, Adrian wondered—not if he could keep her, but if keeping her would destroy her.
And that thought terrified him more than anything.