Eve
I had fought this. Fought him.
With words sharp as daggers. With glares that could cut through steel. With a wall built so high, I had sworn—sworn—that no one, not even him, could breach it.
But he had.
Not with kindness. Not with pretty promises or whispered reassurances.
He had torn through my defenses with rage and hunger. With the way he stood between me and the things that threatened to devour her whole from the inside. With the way he met my fire with his own, clashing, searing, consuming—until I could no longer tell where the hate ended and where the hunger began.
And now… now I had nothing left to fight with.
No strength to wield against the grief suffocating me. No walls to hold up against the shadows trying to pull me under.
All I had was him.