Chapter 5: The Pain She Chose

Elias had seen it all. Violence, betrayal, death. He had watched men beg for mercy and had given none. He had built his empire on blood and bone, carving his own fate with scarred hands.

But this—this was different.

She was different.

Calista stood in front of him, her lips slightly parted, her breath shallow. Caught. She wasn’t prepared for this. She had expected his anger, his control, maybe even his possessiveness.

But not this.

Not the way he looked at her now, like she was something that had shattered right in front of him.

"You knew," she whispered, the words barely escaping her lips.

Elias tilted his head slightly, the movement calculated. "I suspected," he corrected. "Now I know."

Her pulse pounded against her ribs. "It doesn’t matter."

His jaw tensed. Wrong answer.

In one swift step, he was in front of her, close enough for her to feel the heat radiating from his body. Close enough for her to see the storm raging in his darkened gaze.

"Doesn’t matter?" he repeated, his voice low, dangerous. "You come home with bruises. Wounds. And I thought someone was doing this to you. I was ready to kill for you, Calista. I was ready to hunt them down, make them beg for death. But then I find out—" His voice broke off for a fraction of a second, his breath unsteady. "It was you. It was always you."

She flinched. "You don’t understand."

Elias let out a bitter laugh, but there was no amusement in it. "You think I don’t understand pain?" He stepped closer, forcing her back until she was pressed against the cold wall of the alley. "You think I don’t understand wanting to tear yourself apart just to feel something real?"

Her fingers trembled at her sides. "Then you should understand why you need to let this go."

He exhaled sharply, tilting his head down, so close their foreheads almost touched. "I don’t let things go, Calista. Especially not you."

His voice was raw, almost desperate, but it was buried beneath something stronger. Possession. Obsession. Unshakable devotion.

Calista tried to steady herself, tried to summon the defiance that usually protected her. But standing here, trapped beneath the weight of Elias’s intensity, she realized something terrifying.

She had never been able to hide from him.

Not when they were children. Not now.

Elias had always seen her.

And now, he saw the truth.

"You’re trying to destroy yourself," he said, his voice quieter now, but no less dangerous. His fingers ghosted over her wrist, right where the newest wound lay hidden beneath fabric. "And you expect me to just watch?"

Her throat tightened. Yes. That’s what she expected. It’s what everyone else had done. Her father, her so-called family, even the world itself.

But Elias wasn’t everyone else.

His fingers tightened slightly, not to hurt, but to remind her that he was there.

"You can run. You can fight me. You can hate me." His voice was a whisper now, soft but unyielding. "But I’m not going to let you disappear."

Calista’s heart pounded, but before she could say anything—before she could shove him away or break beneath his words—he leaned in just enough for her to hear the final promise he left in the air between them.

"If you insist on destroying yourself… then I’ll just have to stop you."

And this time, she knew he meant it.

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