Territorial

The smell of fresh coffee and warm pastries filled the small café, a comforting hum of chatter around us. Owen sat across from me, leaning back in his chair with an easy smile as we picked at our breakfast. He had insisted on inviting me out this morning after we both had to come in early. I appreciated the gesture, but I couldn't seem to focus. My eyes kept drifting to the man sitting a few tables down.

William. He was there, his gaze locked on me—no, staring at me with an intensity that made my skin prickle. I tried to ignore it, but his eyes were burning a hole through me. Owen, oblivious, was chatting away until he finally noticed how quiet I was.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice soft with concern.

I blinked and looked down at my plate, pushing my food around. "Yeah, just… tired," I muttered, trying to sound convincing. But my eyes betrayed me, lifting again toward William. He hadn't moved, hadn't shifted his gaze even slightly.

Owen noticed my distraction, his gaze following mine. When he turned and saw William sitting there, staring straight at us—straight at me—his expression darkened.

"What the fuck is wrong with that guy?" he muttered, the irritation evident in his voice.

Before I could even respond, Owen was already starting to stand up, his chair scraping against the floor. "What are you doing?" I hissed, panic creeping into my voice.

"I'm gonna tell him to stop staring like a creep," Owen growled, clearly not in the mood for subtlety.

My hand shot out, grabbing his arm before he could take another step. The memory of the last time William had been confronted—when Shadow tried to stop him—flashed vividly in my mind. I couldn't let Owen be pulled into that situation either. The tension had been too thick, too dangerous.

"Forget it," I said firmly, my grip tightening on Owen's arm. "It's not worth it."

He looked down at me, his anger softening as he registered the seriousness in my expression. His jaw tightened, but after a moment, he sat back down, still fuming but holding himself back. He shook his head in frustration. "That guy gives me the creeps," he muttered, glaring briefly at his coffee before glancing back toward William.

The moment Owen looked, William's gaze shifted from me to him, and the air between them changed instantly. Their eyes locked, both of them glaring as if they were locked in some unspoken challenge. It was like watching a silent match of testosterone, each daring the other to make a move without a single word being exchanged.

Owen's muscles tensed across from me, ready to spring at the slightest provocation. William didn't flinch, didn't back down, his gaze sharp and unyielding. The café around us felt suddenly smaller, as if the two of them were filling the entire space with the weight of their silent animosity.

I could feel the tension crackling between them, like a fuse waiting to be lit. My stomach knotted as I glanced between the two. This was the last thing I wanted—a standoff that could escalate into something far worse.

"Owen," I said softly, but firmly, trying to pull his focus back to me. "Let it go. Please."

It took a moment, but Owen finally blinked, breaking the intense stare with William. He exhaled slowly, turning back toward me with a look of reluctant restraint. "Yeah… fine," he muttered, though I could still feel the lingering tension in his movements. His hands tightened around his coffee cup, knuckles white.

William's eyes didn't leave Owen for a few seconds longer, his expression unreadable before he finally looked away, the eerie calm of his gaze shifting back to the book in his hands.

But the unease still lingered, like a storm waiting to break.

Zeff

I walked into the office, still running on the adrenaline of my morning workout. My mind was elsewhere, focused on the day ahead, until my eyes locked onto something that sent a jolt of irritation through me.

Owen.

He was standing way too close to Liliam, leaning in to kiss her goodbye as he casually placed her stuff on her desk. My jaw clenched, the sudden flare of jealousy surging in my chest before I could even stop it.

What the hell is this?

Without thinking, my stride quickened, my body moving toward them on instinct. As I closed the distance, Owen turned, catching sight of me, and his expression shifted, his posture straightening. Our eyes met, and the air between us grew thick with silent hostility.

The way he looked at me—almost daring me to say something—made my blood boil. That smug, territorial look in his eyes, like he had some kind of claim. I stopped right in front of him, our glares colliding like two wolves ready to fight for dominance.

*This guy is getting on my nerves.* If William wasn't enough of a headache, now I had to deal with this asshole too.

Owen's eyes narrowed, but after a beat, he shrugged and took a step back, his lips curling into a smirk that only made me want to deck him. He didn't say a word, just turned and walked away like he owned the place, leaving me standing there, seething.

I forced myself to let out a slow breath, unclenching my fists, and turned my attention to Liliam, who had barely noticed the tension simmering between us. She was adjusting her things, completely unaware of the silent war that had just played out right in front of her.

"Morning," I greeted her, keeping my voice steady, though my pulse was still racing with irritation.

Liliam looked up and smiled, completely unaware of the storm brewing inside me. "Morning, Zeff."

I nodded, but the jealousy was still there, gnawing at me. "Are you in good terms with Owen?" I asked, the question slipping out before I could stop myself. My voice came out sharper than I intended, and I could see Liliam's brow furrow as she looked back at me, confused.

"Well, we talked," she replied slowly, like she was trying to piece together what I was getting at. "And he's willing to fix things."

I didn't miss the uncertainty in her tone, and I pressed on before I could think better of it. "Are you?"

Her eyes widened, her expression shifting from confusion to something else—suspicion. She tilted her head to the side, narrowing her gaze at me like she was trying to figure out what game I was playing.

"Owen is my boyfriend, Zeff," she said, her voice firm but laced with tension.

I could feel my control slipping. I wasn't trying to push her, but something in me snapped at that word—*boyfriend.* It sounded wrong. All of this was wrong.

"Do you believe that?" I shot back, my voice lower, more intense than I intended.

Her face shifted, anger flashing across her eyes as she straightened, her body language shifting from defensive to pissed off. "Honestly, what is wrong with you all today!?" she snapped, her voice rising, frustration clear.

I clenched my jaw, the words I wanted to say sitting heavy in my throat. But I knew better than to push her now. She was angry, and I couldn't blame her. Still, the sight of Owen touching her, kissing her, lingered in my mind, sparking a jealousy that refused to die down.

She stared at me, waiting for an answer, but all I could do was stand there, fists clenched at my sides, wondering how everything had gotten so tangled so fast.

"Well?" she pressed, her voice sharp and her eyes blazing with frustration. I could see the anger building in her, the tension thick between us. My chest tightened, and for a moment, I felt like I was on the verge of saying something I couldn't take back.

But then I exhaled slowly, forcing myself to relax my shoulders and drop the tension from my stance. My pride wanted to keep pushing, to challenge her, but deep down, I knew I had already crossed a line.

"I'm sorry, Liliam," I said quietly, my voice softer now, the edge gone.

Her expression didn't soften right away, but I could see her eyes searching mine, trying to gauge if I really meant it. I did. I wasn't sure what had gotten into me—whether it was seeing Owen with her or something else—but I knew I'd overstepped.

She crossed her arms, her gaze still wary but less heated now. "You can't just say stuff like that, Zeff. It's not fair."

"I know," I admitted, running a hand through my hair, still trying to shake off the jealousy gnawing at me. "I just… I don't like seeing you hurt, that's all."

Her eyes softened for a moment, but she quickly shook her head, clearly not ready to let me off the hook. "That's not your call to make. Owen and I—we're figuring things out. You don't need to interfere."

I nodded, knowing she was right but unable to completely shake the unease that lingered. "Yeah, you're right. I just don't want to see you getting caught in something that—"

"That what?" she interrupted, her tone challenging.

"That you deserve better than," I finished, meeting her gaze, hoping she understood.

She stared at me for a long moment, and I could see the walls she was putting up. "I'll figure that out, Zeff. I don't need anyone else deciding that for me."

I nodded again, feeling the weight of her words. "Okay," I said quietly. "I get it. I'm sorry."

She didn't respond immediately, but the tension between us seemed to ease, even if only slightly. After a beat, she turned back to her desk, the conversation seemingly over. But I could still feel the lingering weight of it hanging in the air.