Chapter 10 - "Possession"
"As for work," he said the night before, his voice steady while mine frays at the edges, "you stay here until the doctor clears you."
When he steps away, I should be relieved. Instead, part of me wants him to stay. That terrifies me most of all.
******
Sunlight spills harshly on the hospital's glass doors as we step out. My crutch bites into my shoulder, but Asami's hand is still at my elbow, guiding, steadying.
"I'm just glad it's only a few weeks in a cast," I say, relief breaking through my breath.
"Could've been worse." His mouth curves ever so slightly.
"Me too. You've already been pacing like a caged cat at home. Another month locked indoors, and I wouldn't put it past you to climb the walls."
I huff a laugh, ready with a retort, until a voice cuts through the crowd's chatter.
"Ichi?"
My stomach drops. My steps falter before my eyes even find him.
No. Not here.
He smiles as if nothing happened, as if that time hadn't broken me in half since I last saw him. His gaze slides from my crutch to Asami, then back to me, bright, unbothered.
"What happened to you?" he asks, easy, casual—too casual. Then that smile, directed straight at Asami.
Chill slides down my spine. My pulse skitters. I force my lips into something like a smile, though I swallow hard.
"Ah—it's just a sprain. Some swelling. We… came to make sure it wasn't broken." My voice sounds wrong, strained, but I pray he doesn't notice.
He notices. His arm came around me before I could step back, pulling me into a hug that made my lungs lock. His breath brushed hot against my ear as he whispered, low and certain:
'We need to talk. You ignored my calls. My texts. I want you home, Ichi. Soon."
I go rigid, nodding before I can stop myself, terror pinning my tongue. When he draws away, his hand lingers on my shoulder, squeezing, before he turns to Asami with another smile.
"Excuse me—I should go get something from the pharmacy." Just like that, he's gone, swallowed by the shifting crowd.
My heart hammers so hard the crutch wobbles under me. I can't breathe right, can't unclench my fists. Asami's silence is a weight all its own. I don't dare meet his eyes, but I feel the tension radiating off him, sharp as a drawn blade.
His hand hovers near my arm, not touching this time, but close enough that the air between us buzzes.
When I finally risk a glance, his gaze isn't on me at all. It fixes on the doors where the man disappeared, jaw tight, shoulders rigid. Possessive, protective—dangerous in its quietness. When his eyes finally come back to me, his expression smooths, calm again.
"Careful," he says, his voice low and controlled, as if nothing happened. His hand returns to my elbow, firm.
"You'll trip if you keep shaking like that." The steadiness makes my fear burn hotter.
I try to smile at Asami, but my lips tremble. I can't stop shaking. Asami's gaze sharpens. He always notices.
He was fine when we left the clinic, his eyes seem to say. What changed?
I know, of course. That man. But my tongue is useless, heavy as stone. I sink into the nearest chair in the lobby. My crutch clatters against the side.
My chest heaves as if I've run a mile. The words burst out before I could stop it.
"Thank God…"
The relief is raw, but Asami's frown deepens. He crouches in front of me, his face too close, his eyes narrowing.
"You were fine a moment ago," he says, voice low, controlled.
"Then he appeared, and suddenly you're trembling like this. Don't insult me with excuses. Explain it. Make me understand."
His closeness makes my skin crawl with awareness.
For a heartbeat, I think—God help me—he's going to kiss me. Right there. In front of everyone. I flinch, pleading, my voice shaking.
"P-please… give me space, Master Asami. Not here. People will misunderstand you if you're this close."
His eyes don't soften. If anything, they sharpen.
"No. You'll answer me, Ichinose. Here and now. Or we're not leaving."
My breath catches. Tears threaten. His stare pins me.
Desperate, I whisper, "Please. Not here. In the car. I'll tell you in the car."
That finally makes him relent. His jaw tightens, his shoulders stiff, but then he exhales, the sound rough. His hand slides up, brushing my hair back before settling in a firm pat.
"Fine. Don't cry. We'll talk in the car." His voice softens, just enough to undo me.
"But don't think I'll forget."
I nod, too shaken to speak.
He steadies me on my feet again, guiding me through the crowd until we reach the car. He helps me into the seat, his touch gentler now, lingering.
"Stay here," he says, his tone clipped but protective.
"I need to get something inside. I'll be back."
Before I can ask what, he turns and strides back toward the hospital, his steps purposeful—like a man hunting down an answer he already suspects.
I wait in the car, my hands twisting in my lap. Every second drags, heavy with dread. Please… don't let him run into that man.If he found out I work with Asami, what would he do?
Anxious thoughts swarm me until I catch movement at the hospital doors. The man. He smirks as if he knows something I don't. My chest tightens.
Did he speak with Asami inside?
When Asami finally appears, relief crashes through me. He walks with that same unhurried stride, but the set of his jaw makes my stomach twist
"I'm sorry I took so long," he says evenly as he slides into the driver's seat.
"I thought they might have another medicine. They didn't." He doesn't look at me.
His hand grips the wheel, knuckles pale, before he tilts his head back, eyes closed. For a beat, his silence is louder than shouting.
Whatever happened inside clings to him still. I see it in the crease of his brow, the way his breath drags rough through his nose. He mutters under his breath, almost too low for me to catch.
"If I had any authority of my own, I'd never set foot in my grandfather's house again." Then a sigh.
He massages his temple, his face briefly raw before smoothing back into composure. I turn my face to the window, unsure what to say. My pulse still hasn't steadied from that man's smirk.
"As you promised," Asami's voice breaks the silence, low and firm, "...you'll tell me everything about him. Tonight. Don't make me wait any longer."
My throat tightens, but I nod. "…Umm."
He starts the engine, but the anger lingers in his eyes, quiet and sharp. I feel it even in the silence between us. Whatever that man said lodged deep inside him—enough to make Asami look as if his blood is boiling.
Asami drives in silence. The hum of the engine is louder than either of us. His jaw is set tight, his hand gripping the wheel like it might splinter.
I stare out the window, but every nerve in my body feels his anger beside me. Finally, he speaks, voice low and edged.
"I don't like the way he looked at you."
My breath hitches. "He… he's just someone I knew before—"
His hand tightens on the wheel.
"Don't insult me with half-baked truths. The way you shook when you saw him… you were afraid. Terrified." His eyes flick toward me, sharp, unyielding.
"Why?"
I swallow hard, my throat dry.
"Please… not now. I'll explain tonight. I promised."
A long silence. He exhales slowly, through his nose, forcing himself to calm down.
"Ichinosé…"
My name on his tongue is heavier than a threat—it's a vow.
"Whatever he was to you, whatever he thinks he still is… there's nothing now. Do you understand?"
Heat flushes my cheeks. The words are steady, but I feel the storm underneath them—possessive, protective, dangerous in its restraint.
I nod quickly. "Y-yes…"
His lips press into the faintest curve.
"Good. Because if he thinks he can touch what's mine…" His voice trails off, unfinished but loaded. He catches himself, turns his gaze back to the road, and finishes flatly,
"I won't tolerate it."
I freeze, heart hammering. What's mine? The words echo, tangled, impossible. Did he mean it? Or is it just the heat of his anger? I can't ask. I can't breathe. I just sit there, trembling, caught between the terror of that man's shadow… and the dangerous comfort of Asami's.
******
The villa is quiet after dinner, the silence pressing heavy against my ribs. I sit stiffly on the edge of the bed, ankle propped on a cushion, while Asami leans against the desk across the room.
Arms folded. Eyes sharp. Waiting. I can't look at him. My fingers twist the blanket instead.
"You said you'd explain," he reminds me, voice too steady, like a blade laid flat.
"Now tell me."
My chest clenches.
"I… don't know where to start."
"Start with his name."
"... Dante."
The word tastes bitter. My shoulders curl as if saying it makes me smaller. Something flickers across Asami's face, but he doesn't move. He only nods once.
"He was… my boyfriend. Before."
The word feels wrong in my mouth, too generous for what it really was.
"When we met, he had nothing. No job, no money. Just a record and a smile I thought I could trust."
I laugh weakly, bitter. "I worked. I gave him everything I earned. Rent. Food. Even his drinking, his gambling, the clubs… the women. I thought if I worked harder, if I loved him enough, it would fix everything."
My throat burns. My hands shake.
"But it didn't. It only got worse. Until there was nothing left of me. Just debt, shame, and… him."
The words crack, spilling out too fast, too raw.
"I stayed because I thought—stupidly—that was what love was: sacrifice until you're empty."
The silence is suffocating. I dare a glance up—and immediately regret it. Asami's eyes are molten, unreadable but heavy with something that makes my breath stutter.
Fury—not at me. At what I endured? His jaw clenches, tight, but his voice is soft when it comes.
"You let him bleed you dry. And he dared to come near you again."
I wince. "I… I was a fool."
His arms uncross. In two strides, he is in front of me, crouched low, his hand gripping the blanket beside my knee. Close enough to make my pulse stumble.
"No," he says firmly.
"You were kind. Too kind. He twisted that against you."
His eyes lock on mine, sharp and unflinching.
"Don't ever call yourself a fool for giving him your love. Call him a fool for throwing it away."
I open my mouth, but no sound comes. Heat stings my eyes. His hand lifts, brushing a stray tear away with his thumb. The touch is careful, almost reverent.
"Dante won't take another piece of you," Asami murmurs.
"Not while you're under my roof."
Then, with a firm resolve: "Not while you're mine to protect."
My heart stops. My breath catches. Mine.
I tear my gaze away, choking on confusion, fear, and something far more dangerous.
"Asami, I—"
"Rest."
His voice softens, though the fire in his eyes hasn't dimmed.
"We'll talk tomorrow. For now… trust me."
For one terrifying, treacherous moment—I almost do. Asami's thumb brushes the last of my tears away, his gaze steady, unyielding.
"Rest," he murmurs, softer this time.
But beneath the calm, I hear the weight of something darker—a promise.
I curl into the blanket, heart still racing.
I should feel safe. I should feel relieved. Instead, a chill creeps through me, sharp as glass.
Dante won't let go so easily. If he comes back… I'm not sure who I should fear more—him, or the storm simmering in Asami's eyes
To be continued….