The city smelled of rust and blood.
Ethan adjusted the straps of his pack, his body still aching from Selene's brutal "lesson" the day before. His skin felt too tight, like the Core was stretched beneath it, restless and hungry. Every heartbeat thrummed louder than it should, as though his own veins were betraying him.
Selene moved ahead of him, silent as shadow, rifle slung over her shoulder. She hadn't said much since dawn. No mention of the fight. No mention of how close his claws had come to her throat.
And yet, every time he looked at her, he saw the faint scarlet line where he'd nearly lost control.
He hated it.
He hated himself.
He hated how the Core purred when his eyes lingered too long on her.
"Stay sharp," Selene said suddenly, voice clipped.
Ethan blinked. "What is it?"
She raised a hand for silence. Then he heard it too — faint movement, a scuff of boots against broken glass, the metallic rattle of armor plates. Too deliberate to be scavengers. Too quiet to be mutants.
His gut clenched. Assassins.
Selene ducked into the skeleton of a collapsed storefront, dragging him with her. He stumbled against her shoulder, the sudden contact sending a jolt through him. Her body was warm, steady, grounded. His wasn't. His pulse was a storm.
"Three, maybe four," she whispered, eyes sharp as razors in the gloom. "Professional."
Ethan nodded, throat dry. The Core stirred, eager, whispering: Let them come. We'll drink them dry.
He pressed his back to the cracked plaster wall, fighting the urge. He couldn't lose himself again — not here, not with Selene watching.
The footsteps grew louder. Voices, hushed but clear enough in the silence.
"…alive. Overseer wants him breathing."
"…girl too, if possible."
Selene's hand brushed his arm, a silent warning. Don't move. Don't speak.
But the Core wouldn't stay quiet. It clawed at him, seeping temptation into his blood. He could almost smell the assassins — sweat, gun oil, the faint tang of adrenaline. Prey. His claws itched to surface.
Selene must have seen the shift in his breathing because her hand slid down, gripping his wrist hard enough to anchor him. Her lips brushed close to his ear as she whispered, "Control. Now more than ever."
The heat of her breath nearly unraveled him. He clenched his jaw, nodded once.
The assassins entered the ruin. Four of them, masked and armored, weapons gleaming in the half-light. One swept his rifle across the shadows. Ethan held his breath, every muscle screaming. Selene's body pressed against his side, her rifle angled low, waiting.
Too close. They were too close.
The Core surged. His vision sharpened, every sound magnified until the soldiers' heartbeats pounded like war drums in his ears. His body screamed for violence. He could almost taste the blood.
"Ethan," Selene hissed under her breath, her voice like a blade cutting through the hunger. "Look at me."
He did. And the storm quieted, just barely. Her eyes locked him in place, grounding him against the madness clawing at his veins.
The assassins moved deeper into the ruin. One passed so close that Ethan could see the reflection of himself in the man's visor.
The Core screamed to strike. To rend. To kill.
But Ethan didn't.
Not yet.
When the last assassin turned his back, Selene shoved Ethan forward, and they slipped through a gap in the rubble into the basement below. Dust fell around them, air thick with mold and metal.
It was dark, suffocating. They pressed into the narrow crawlspace, Selene's body flush against his, her breath hot against his neck. He couldn't move without touching her. Couldn't breathe without inhaling her scent — steel, sweat, and something faintly human beneath all the armor.
He hated how much he noticed.
He hated how much he wanted.
Above, footsteps echoed. Voices cursed. The assassins were searching.
Ethan swallowed hard, his mouth dry. "We can't stay here."
"We can," Selene murmured back, her hand pressed against his chest to keep him still. "We stay until they pass. You'll give us away if you move."
Her touch burned through his shirt. He realized, with horror, that his pulse was pounding so hard she could probably feel it against her palm.
The Core chuckled inside him, a low, intimate whisper: She feels it too.
He squeezed his eyes shut, fighting for air. Every instinct screamed to do something — to fight, to flee, to touch, to take. But Selene's grip anchored him, her nearness both torment and salvation.
Minutes stretched into eternities. The assassins' footsteps receded, echoing down another street. Silence followed.
Selene didn't move. Neither did he. For a moment, the world shrank to just them in the dark, pressed so close it was unbearable.
Finally, she pulled back slightly, her face inches from his. He could see the sheen of sweat on her temple, the faint rise and fall of her chest.
"That," she whispered, "was control."
Ethan let out a shaky breath, his lips twisting in something like a bitter smile. "Felt more like torture."
Her eyes flicked to his mouth before snapping back up. She said nothing.
They stayed like that another moment — the silence thick, heavy with things neither of them dared name — before Selene finally pushed away, crawling toward the exit.
Ethan followed, his hands still trembling. Not from fear. Not entirely.
As they emerged into the broken sunlight, the Core coiled within him, smug and restless.
She steadies you. She makes you weak. One day, you won't pull back. One day, you'll take her.
Ethan clenched his fists, jaw tight. The Core wasn't wrong. And that terrified him more than the assassins ever could.
The streets outside were too quiet.
Selene raised her fist, signaling for Ethan to stop. She crouched low, scanning the rooftops. Broken glass glittered like a thousand tiny eyes in the afternoon sun.
"They're still here," she murmured, voice barely audible.
Ethan's nerves snapped taut. His skin buzzed with the Core's restless hunger, every shadow alive with imagined threats. He could almost feel the assassins watching from unseen perches, the promise of violence hanging like static in the air.
Selene moved quickly, leading him through a narrow alley choked with collapsed brick and weeds clawing through the asphalt. Ethan followed, every step measured, every sound too loud in his ears.
Halfway through, the faint click of a rifle echoed. Then—
Crack.
A bullet sparked off the wall inches from Selene's head. She ducked instantly, rolling behind a rusted dumpster. Ethan's body moved before thought, grabbing her arm, dragging her down just as another shot split the air.
"Sniper," she hissed.
"Yeah, no kidding," Ethan muttered through clenched teeth. His pulse roared, his claws threatening to surface. The Core screamed for release, desperate to leap into the open and tear the hunter apart.
Selene touched his shoulder sharply. "Not yet."
Her tone was steel, but her eyes lingered on him for a heartbeat too long — as though she knew how close he was to breaking.
The gunfire stopped. Silence stretched. The hunter was waiting, patient as a spider.
Selene pressed closer to him, whispering near his ear. "We'll cut left through the stairwell. Stay behind me."
He swallowed hard, nodding. Her closeness was maddening. Her scent tangled with the Core's hunger until he couldn't tell where the craving for blood ended and the craving for her began.
They moved. Fast.
Selene slipped through the alley gap, Ethan at her back. The stairwell loomed ahead, concrete cracked but still standing. Another shot rang out, sparking off the metal railing. Ethan grabbed Selene and pulled her down, their bodies colliding hard against the wall.
Her breath caught, hot against his cheek. For a split second, the world narrowed to the feel of her chest rising against his, the faint tremor in her shoulders, the fire in her eyes.
Then her hand gripped his jaw — firm, commanding — forcing his gaze away from her lips and back to the shattered stairwell above.
"Focus, Ethan," she whispered fiercely.
The Core growled, angry at restraint. She commands you like prey. Show her who you are.
Ethan's fists clenched. His breathing came ragged, not from fear but from the unbearable pull between violence and desire.
They waited. Seconds dragged. Then Selene shoved him forward. "Go!"
They bolted up the stairwell, bullets ricocheting around them. Ethan felt one graze his arm, heat searing his skin. Pain flared, and with it the Core surged, claws threatening to rip free.
By the time they burst into the upper floor of the ruin, Ethan's control was hanging by a thread. His arm bled, the scent intoxicating, his vision tinged red.
Selene grabbed his face suddenly, fingers digging into his jaw, her eyes blazing into his.
"Stay with me," she commanded.
Her voice cut deeper than the bullet had. It anchored him. The storm faltered.
For a moment — breathless, bloody, cornered in the ruins — it wasn't the assassins that terrified Ethan.
It was how desperately he wanted her to never let go.