But He Won’t Let Me Go

The second Jax walked away, I felt it.

The weight of my decision.

I had chosen to stay.

To wait.

To face Ethan, even though I knew—when he came back, nothing would be the same.

But I had barely taken a breath before I realized something else.

Just because I stayed, didn't mean I was free.

Because no matter how much I tried to pull away—

Ethan Carter wasn't going to let me go.

I didn't sleep that night.

I sat in the dark, my fingers curled around my phone, my breath shallow.

Waiting.

Waiting for the fallout.

Waiting for Ethan.

I had no idea when he'd get out.

No idea how.

But I knew he would.

Because Ethan had never been the kind of guy to let bars, rules, or consequences stop him.

And when he did get out?

He was going to come straight for me.

My phone vibrated in my lap.

I nearly dropped it, my fingers shaking as I grabbed it.

Unknown Number.

I hesitated.

But I knew who it was.

I always knew.

I pressed accept, my breath uneven.

I didn't even get a word out before his voice came through the line—low, rough, unhinged.

"Where are you?"

My pulse skidded.

Because he didn't sound relieved.

He sounded furious.

And that?

That scared me more than anything else.

"Ethan—"

"Where the fuck are you, Liv?"

I flinched.

Not because he had yelled.

But because he sounded—dangerous.

Like I had done something unforgivable.

Like the simple fact that I was still breathing wasn't enough for him.

"I'm safe," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

Wrong answer.

Ethan let out a harsh, bitter laugh.

"Safe?" His breath came sharp over the line.

"You think that's what this is about?"

I swallowed hard.

Because no.

I knew exactly what this was about.

It was about the fact that I had stayed.

That I hadn't run when I had the chance.

That I had let Jax find me.

And now?

Ethan was coming for me.

"You were supposed to leave."

His voice was lower now, quieter.

That was worse.

That was so much worse.

"I couldn't," I admitted.

Silence.

A long, dangerous pause.

Then—

"You should have."

I squeezed my eyes shut.

Because maybe he was right.

Maybe I should have.

But I didn't.

Because even after everything—even with all the warnings, all the dangers, all the reasons to leave—

I couldn't walk away from him.

Not now.

Maybe not ever.

I barely had time to process his words before I heard it.

A car.

Pulling up outside my building.

My stomach twisted.

Because I knew.

I knew.

I shot up from the couch, my heart hammering, my breath caught in my throat.

I stepped toward the window, but I didn't need to look.

I already felt him.

I already knew.

Ethan was here.

And he wasn't leaving without me.

A single knock.

Sharp. Controlled. Unforgiving.

I didn't move.

Didn't breathe.

Because this was it.

This was the moment where I had to decide.

Open the door… or walk away.

I took a slow breath, my fingers tightening at my sides.

Then—

I stepped forward.

And I let him in.

The second I opened the door; Ethan was already inside.

Pacing.

His hands curled into fists; his jaw locked tight.

He hadn't even looked at me yet.

But I felt him.

I felt everything.

And when his eyes finally met mine?

The room tilted.

Because he wasn't just angry.

He was wrecked.

He looked like he had been through hell.

Like the moment they had locked him up, all he had thought about was getting back to me.

And now that he was here?

Now that I was right in front of him?

He had no idea what to do with me.

"You should have run."

The words were sharp.

Unforgiving.

I lifted my chin. "I didn't."

His jaw clenched.

"I know."

His voice cracked on the last word, like it physically hurt him to say it.

And suddenly?

I realized—this wasn't about anger.

This was about fear.

Ethan wasn't mad that I stayed.

He was terrified of what that meant.

For me.

For him.

For both of us.

I took a breath.

Then another.

"I need you to let me go."

The second I said it, his entire body tensed.

Like I had just ripped the ground out from under him.

He stepped closer, his eyes dark, desperate.

"You don't mean that."

I swallowed hard. "I do."

But even as I said it, I knew—

I was lying.

Because we had been here before.

We had said these words before.

And every time, we still ended up right here.

In the same fight.

The same war.

The same impossible love.

Ethan reached for me then.

His fingers brushed my wrist, soft, careful, full of something I wasn't ready to name.

"You can't leave me," he whispered.

My throat closed.

Because that?

That was the real problem.

I didn't want to.

The silence between us was too loud.

Too final.

Then—

Ethan exhaled, stepping back.

His eyes flickered to the door.

And for a second—just a second—I thought he was going to walk away.

But then?

He looked at me.

And I saw it.

The moment he made up his mind.

"You're not leaving."

It wasn't a question.

It wasn't a plea.

It was a decision.

And just like that—

I knew.

Ethan Carter wasn't letting me go.

Not tonight.

Not ever.

Ethan is back, and he's not letting Liv walkaway.

The tension is at an all-time high—what happens now?

A dangerous realization—Liv can't leave, but can she survive staying?

The lines between love and obsession blur even more.