Sturniolos

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Why’d you have to call (golden boy ) part three

@nila-babes

Why’d You Have to Call?

Golden Boy — Part Three

The hardest part wasn’t losing him.

It was forgetting the person you thought he was.

For months, you had convinced yourself that walking away was the ending you needed. No more late-night conversations. No more wondering what every little thing meant. No more trying to understand someone who never explained himself.

You finally had peace.

Then your phone lit up.

Chris.

You stared at the name on your screen.

A name you hadn’t seen appear in months.

A name that used to make your heart race.

Now it only made you tired.

You almost ignored it.

Almost.

But curiosity got the better of you.

You answered.

“Hello?”

There was silence.

Not the comfortable kind.

The kind where someone has a thousand things to say but doesn’t know where to start.

“Hey.”

His voice sounded different.

Less confident.

Less like the person who always had the perfect response.

“Why are you calling?”

Another pause.

“I don’t know.”

You let out a small laugh.

“You called me and you don’t know why?”

“I guess I just wanted to hear your voice.”

That sentence would have destroyed you before.

A few months ago, you would have held onto those words.

You would have searched for meaning.

But now you knew better.

“Chris…”

“I know.”

His voice was quiet.

“I know I don’t really have the right to call.”

You looked out your window, watching the city lights blur together.

For once, you weren’t angry.

You weren’t trying to prove anything.

You were just tired.

“Then why did you?”

He didn’t answer immediately.

“Because everyone thinks they know me.”

You stayed silent.

“And maybe they do know the version I show them.”

The honesty surprised you.

“The version that smiles. The version that says everything is fine. The version everyone expects.”

His voice lowered.

“But you knew when it wasn’t.”

You swallowed.

Because that was the hardest part.

You did know.

You saw the moments nobody else saw.

The frustration.

The insecurity.

The person behind the image.

But knowing someone didn’t mean they were allowed to hurt you.

“I cared about you,” you said.

“I know.”

“No, you don’t.”

Your voice cracked slightly.

“You don’t know what it felt like watching everyone love this perfect version of you while I was trying to understand why the person I knew felt so far away.”

Silence.

“I never wanted to hurt you.”

You closed your eyes.

“I know.”

And somehow, that was worse.

Because sometimes people didn’t mean to hurt you.

They just did.

“I miss when we talked,” he admitted.

You looked down at your phone.

“I miss who we were before everything got complicated.”

“So do I.”

The words hung between you.

But missing something didn’t mean you could return to it.

“You know what the worst part was?”

“What?”

“I didn’t need you to be perfect.”

Your voice softened.

“I just needed you to be real.”

Another silence.

This time, he didn’t try to fill it.

And maybe that was the first honest thing he had done in a long time.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said.

You believed that he meant it.

But forgiveness wasn’t the same as going back.

“I hope you figure yourself out, Chris.”

“You’re really done?”

You looked around your room.

The place where you had cried.

The place where you had rebuilt yourself.

“Yes.”

A quiet breath came through the phone.

“I guess I knew you would be.”

You smiled sadly.

“Then why call?”

The question stayed there.

Because both of you knew the answer.

He didn’t call because he expected everything to go back to normal.

He called because he finally realized something.

The person who believed in him the most was also the person who stopped needing him.

“I just wanted one more conversation.”

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see.

“Okay.”

And for the first time in forever, you talked.

Not like before.

Not like two people trying to fix something broken.

Just two people remembering what they used to mean to each other.

When the call ended, you didn’t cry.

You didn’t feel empty.

You didn’t feel like you lost.

You placed your phone down and smiled.

Because sometimes closure doesn’t come from an apology.

Sometimes it comes from realizing you don’t need one anymore.

⸻

The next morning, the world kept moving.

The Golden Boy was still the Golden Boy.

People still admired him.

People still talked about him.

But you weren’t watching anymore.

You weren’t waiting for him to change.

You weren’t hoping he would finally see your worth.

Because you already did.

And that was the one thing he couldn’t take away.

You didn’t leave because you stopped caring.

Petty (Golden Boy – Part Two)

The Golden Boy image Chris Sturniolo had built was beginning to crack.

It started with whispers.

At first, they were harmless rumors—people claiming you were difficult to work with, that you were jealous of Chris, that you only became popular because of him. You ignored them because you trusted him.

Then you realized every rumor traced back to the same source.

Chris.

(You had it out from the moment you met me)

You remembered the first day you met him. His smile was charming, but his eyes held something colder, like he’d already decided you were competition.

Still, you convinced yourself you were imagining it.

(Running your mouth, aren’t you tired already?)

Every time you walked into a room, conversations stopped.

People looked at you differently.

Someone had always spoken before you arrived.

Chris never said anything in front of your face. He was smarter than that.

He let everyone else do the talking.

(You let me down so I’ll let you down gently)

You confronted him privately.

“I trusted you.”

Chris leaned against the wall, completely unbothered.

“I never told anyone anything.”

“You didn’t have to.”

His silence said enough.

(We could be friends but you’re way too…)

“…petty,” you finished.

His jaw tightened.

For the first time, the Golden Boy mask slipped.

(Calculated)

Everything suddenly made sense.

The compliments.

The fake concern.

The way he’d always somehow know what people were saying before anyone else.

Nothing he did was accidental.

(You move your lips and it sounds automated, oh)

“You always know exactly what people want to hear.”

Chris shrugged.

“Maybe I’m just better at talking than you.”

(You’re a queen bee without the hive)

“You need everyone on your side.”

“I don’t need anyone.”

“You absolutely do.”

The silence between you was louder than either of your voices.

(Now it’s coming to light)

Then the screenshots leaked.

Group chats.

Voice notes.

Messages Chris never expected anyone else to see.

The truth spread faster than the lies ever had.

(Two-faced)

Everyone who defended him suddenly went quiet.

Friends started asking questions.

His perfect reputation cracked.

(You sing my songs but call ’em overrated, oh)

“You copied every idea I ever had,” you said when he finally met your eyes again.

“And then you acted like none of them were good enough until they became popular.”

He couldn’t deny it.

(Damn I’m so done with your lies)

“I’m finished.”

“For real this time.”

Chris searched your face, expecting another chance.

There wasn’t one.

(No tears fall when you cry)

“I’m sorry.”

It sounded convincing.

Months ago, you would’ve believed him.

Now…

Nothing.

(Ah, this is a losing game)

Neither of you could win anymore.

Too much damage had already been done.

(And frankly I don’t wanna play)

“I’m done competing with someone who was never my friend.”

You turned toward the door.

(Clearly you have something to say)

“Wait.”

His voice echoed behind you.

(Then say it, say it right now)

“I…”

He hesitated.

For once…

The words didn’t come easily.

⸻

Life moved on.

People slowly forgot the drama.

But Chris didn’t.

Every interview.

Every event.

Every time your names appeared together online…

The tension never disappeared.

(You had it out from the moment you met me)

It was almost funny now.

(Running your mouth, aren’t you tired already?)

He still found ways to throw subtle comments into conversations.

Still found ways to make himself look innocent.

(You let me down so I’ll let you down gently)

You stopped responding.

Silence hurt more than revenge ever could.

(We could be friends but you’re way too petty)

Friends?

Not anymore.

⸻

One night at an influencer event, someone accidentally spilled a drink near Chris.

He exploded.

“What is wrong with you?”

The room froze.

(Hot headed)

The person apologized immediately.

Chris kept going.

His voice got louder.

(One thing goes wrong you act like armageddon, oh)

You watched from across the room.

This was who he’d always been.

People were only seeing it now.

(I keep dodging all the mines, pretending like it’s fine)

For months, you’d walked on eggshells around him.

Carefully choosing every word.

Trying not to upset him.

Never again.

(But it’s not, you’re a lot)

He was exhausting.

Always creating problems where there weren’t any.

(Ah, this is a losing game)

You weren’t interested anymore.

(And frankly I don’t wanna play)

So you left the party early.

Without saying goodbye.

⸻

A few weeks later, another scandal hit.

More lies.

More manipulation.

This time, nobody defended him.

(Clearly you have something to say)

Chris posted a long apology online.

(Then say it, say it right now)

People waited.

Read every word.

And moved on.

⸻

You crossed paths one last time months later.

Neither of you smiled.

Neither of you spoke.

(Pretty to be acting like that)

Chris still looked like the same Golden Boy everyone admired.

But appearances couldn’t hide everything forever.

(Smiling in my face all while the knife is in my back)

You remembered every fake smile.

Every fake compliment.

Every betrayal.

But they no longer hurt.

(I’ll watch you build a house of cards and let it all collapse)

Eventually, the image he’d worked so hard to protect collapsed on its own.

Not because of revenge.

Because the truth always finds a way.

(I’ll sit back and laugh)

You didn’t celebrate.

You simply kept walking.

(I’ll sit back and laugh)

Behind you, the Golden Boy stood alone.

And for the first time…

Golden boy -C.S

Golden boy

(Birthday special ) im 19

So you can play the golden boy

"I'd love to be your girlfriend"

Everyone loved Chris.

That was the problem.

The first time Y/N met him, she understood the obsession immediately. He had the smile that made people feel chosen, the laugh that filled every room, and the kind of confidence that never seemed arrogant because he wore it so effortlessly.

People gravitated toward him.

There was a trail of destruction

Girls wanted him.

That led straight to you

Guys wanted to be him.

Ignored all the signs

And Chris knew exactly how to make every person around him feel special.

That I wish weren't true

Especially Y/N.

You're such a good actor, I guess you had me fooled

For months, she felt like she was the exception.

Guess I was convenient When I was around

While everyone else only got pieces of him, she got the real version.

'Cause you love attention,

The talk of the town

Or at least she thought she did.

Their relationship wasn’t official. It lived in late-night phone calls, secret drives through the city, stolen kisses when nobody was watching, and promises whispered when the world felt quiet.

What's done is done

I'm on the other side now

Chris always had an explanation.

And I'd build you up

While you'd just tear me down

He was busy.

He was stressed.

He wasn’t ready.

He just needed time.

And Y/N believed every single word.

Because when he looked at her, it felt impossible not to.

He knew exactly what to say.

Exactly what she wanted to hear.

Exactly how to make her stay.

Even when something felt wrong.

Even when girls would comment on his posts with hearts and flirty messages.

Even when rumors started floating around.

Even when friends pulled her aside and carefully asked if she was sure about him.

So you can play the golden boy

And lose yourself in all the noise of

"You're kind, and you're so perfect"

"I'd love to be your girlfriend"

You were lucky once

How's life living on the surface?

Y/N defended him every time.

“That’s not who he is.”

“You don’t know him like I do.”

“Chris would never do that.”

Looking back, she wished she could shake herself.

The signs had always been there.

She had simply refused to see them.

Because loving Chris felt like standing in sunlight.

You didn’t notice the burn until it was too late.

The truth arrived slowly.

Painfully.

We'd talk all the time

Now we don't even speak

I'm wide awake

While you're both still asleep

You're so unaffected

By our history

Like pieces of broken glass.

One message.

One screenshot.

One lie.

Then another.

And another.

Until she could no longer pretend everything was fine.

She discovered conversations he’d hidden.

Promises he’d made to multiple girls.

The same compliments.

The same jokes.

The same words he once made her believe were unique.

Special.

Sacred.

They weren’t.

He had simply memorized the role.

And he played it well.

Better than anyone.

Chris wasn’t just good at being loved.

He was good at making people love him.

There was a difference.

A dangerous one.

When Y/N confronted him, she expected guilt.

Remorse.

Something.

Instead, he looked annoyed.

Like she had interrupted his day.

“You’re overthinking this.”

That sentence shattered something inside her.

Because after everything, after every sleepless night, after every tear she’d cried trying to understand him…

He still found a way to make her feel crazy.

Like she was the problem.

Like she was imagining it all.

And for one horrible moment…

She almost believed him again.

Guess I was convenient

When I was around

'Cause you love attention

The talk of the town

And I'd build you up

While you'd just tear me down

The breakup wasn’t dramatic.

No screaming.

No thrown objects.

No cinematic goodbye.

It was worse.

It was quiet.

A slow death.

The kind where two people stop fighting because one of them has finally run out of reasons to stay.

What's done is done

I'm on the other side now

Y/N walked away.

And Chris let her.

That hurt more than she expected.

Because deep down, some foolish part of her thought he’d chase her.

Fight for her.

Beg her not to leave.

But he didn’t.

He simply moved on.

As if she had never mattered.

So you can play the golden boy

And lose yourself in all the noise of

Weeks passed.

Then months.

And everywhere she looked, Chris was still Chris.

Still smiling.

Still laughing.

Still adored.

People posted about how sweet he was.

How funny he was.

How perfect he was.

Girls continued falling for him.

The comments never stopped.

“He’s such a good guy.”

“You’re so lucky if you’re dating him.”

“I wish I had a boyfriend like Chris.”

Y/N would read them and laugh bitterly.

Not because they were wrong.

Because they didn’t know.

They only knew the version he showed them.

The polished version.

The charming version.

The golden boy.

The one who never made mistakes.

The one everyone wanted.

The one who somehow walked away untouched while everyone else cleaned up the damage.

Sometimes she’d see photos of him online.

Surrounded by friends.

Smiling like nothing had happened.

Like hearts weren’t breaking in his wake.

Like there wasn’t a trail of people who once believed they were special.

For a while, it made her angry.

"You're kind, and you're so perfect"

"I'd love to be your girlfriend"

Furious, actually.

How could someone hurt people so easily and still be loved?

How could someone leave destruction behind and never have to face it?

You were lucky once

How's life living on the surface?

But healing does strange things.

One day, she realized she hadn’t checked his page in weeks.

Then months.

One day, she heard his name and didn’t feel sick.

Another day, she looked at an old photo and felt nothing at all.

No anger.

No heartbreak.

No longing.

Nothing.

And somehow that felt like freedom.

Because she finally understood something.

Chris wasn’t winning.

Not really.

He spent his life chasing admiration.

Attention.

Validation.

He needed people to love him because he didn’t know how to exist without it.

We'd talk all the time

Now we don't even speak

And Y/N no longer needed any of those things.

She had survived losing him.

Survived loving him.

Survived the disappointment of discovering that the person she thought he was never truly existed.

That made her stronger than he’d ever know.

I'm wide awake

While you're both still asleep

You're so unaffected

By our history

A year later, they ran into each other.

A crowded event.

Music playing.

People everywhere.

The kind of place that once would’ve made her nervous.

Chris spotted her first.

His eyes widened slightly.

For a moment, neither of them moved.

Then he smiled.

That same smile.

The one that used to make her heart race.

The one that once had so much power over her.

But now?

It was just a smile.

Nothing more.

Nothing less.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

There was no tension.

No lingering feelings.

Just two people standing in the same room.

Chris looked at her carefully.

Almost like he expected something.

Maybe anger.

Maybe sadness.

Maybe proof that she still cared.

But what's done is done

I'm on the other side now

Instead, she simply smiled politely.

Because she didn’t belong to his story anymore.

And he didn’t belong to hers.

After a few moments, they said goodbye.

And she walked away.

Not because it hurt.

Not because she needed distance.

But because she had somewhere better to be.

For the first time in a long time, Y/N wasn’t living in Chris Sturniolo’s shadow.

So you can play the golden boy

And lose yourself in all the noise of

"You're kind, and you're so perfect"

"I'd love to be your girlfriend"

You were lucky once

How's life living on the surface?

She wasn’t another girl hoping to be chosen.

Wasn’t another name on a list.

Wasn’t another heart trying to earn love from someone incapable of giving it fully.

She was finally choosing herself.

You can really play the part

While you stay breaking all these hearts

Oh "what's it like to be his girlfriend"

Looks good but it's a burden

You were lucky once

Have fun living on the surface

And as she disappeared into the crowd, Chris watched her leave.

For once, the golden boy wasn’t the center of someone’s world.

And somehow, that was the one thing he could never learn how to be okay with.

I'm thankful

You're no longer wasting my time

I'm grateful I gave up

On reading your mind

I know that it's much better

Ending like this

Just one on your list

Deceived and dismissed

No I'm not alone being left in your mess

It should bring me closure, or something I guess

But all that I'm left with are unproven words

That everyone heard, and what makes it worse

Is you just play the golden boy

And got so lost in all the noise of

"You're kind, and you're so perfect"

"I'd love to be your girlfriend"

How's life living on the surface?

You can really play the part

While you stay breaking all these hearts

Oh "what's it like to be his girlfriend"

Looks good but it's a burden

You were lucky once

Damon and Elena finally got the human life they fought for, raising their son in Mystic Falls while trying to leave the supernatural world behind. But Grayson grows up surrounded by secrets, old enemies, and the legacy of both the Salvatore and Gilbert bloodlines. From the outside, he seems like a normal teenager — sarcastic, reckless, charming, and constantly getting into trouble but strange things begin happening around him as he gets older.He heals unnaturally fast. He can influence with just his voice. His emotions trigger dangerous supernatural reactions he can’t control. Bonnie realizes Grayson carries traces of ancient magic tied to vampires, doppelgängers, witches, and centuries-old bloodlines that should never have mixed together.As Grayson struggles with who or what he is becoming, mysterious visions begin haunting him. He sees symbols, ancient rituals, burning towns, and people he’s never met calling his name.Soon, supernatural groups from outside Mystic Falls start hunting him, believing he is connected to an old prophecy powerful enough to either destroy the supernatural world or remake it completely.———————————————————————————

The storm rolled over Mystic Falls like something alive.

Thunder rattled the windows of the Salvatore Boarding House while seventeen-year-old Grayson Salvatore sat on the kitchen counter spinning a silver vervain ring around his finger.

“You’re staring again,” he muttered.

Damon looked up from his bourbon. “I’m parenting.”

“You’re profiling me.”

“There’s a difference.”

Grayson smirked — the exact same crooked smile Damon used to weaponize against half the town. But Grayson had Elena’s eyes. Warm brown when he was calm. Almost gold when he wasn’t.

Which lately… was often.

“You skipped school,” Elena said as she walked into the room carrying hospital paperwork from the clinic.

“I went.”

“You were there for forty minutes.”

“That still counts.”

Elena sighed while Damon tried not to laugh.

Their son was impossible.

Grayson Salvatore had grown up hearing stories about Mystic Falls like they were bedtime fairytales. Vampires. witches. doppelgängers. Originals. The stories sounded unreal to everyone else.

But for Grayson, they were family history.

He grew up inside the rebuilt boarding house with hidden weapons under floorboards and ancient spell books locked in cabinets. Bonnie Bennett practically helped raise him. Caroline spoiled him like an aunt. Alaric tried teaching him history, which usually ended with Grayson sleeping through lessons.

And despite Damon and Elena fighting desperately for a normal life… normal never stayed near a Salvatore for long.

Especially not this Salvatore.

Because Grayson wasn’t human.

Nobody knew exactly what he was.

He had Damon’s vampire instincts without being dead. Elena’s compassion without her fear. And abilities no one could fully explain.

When he was thirteen, he healed a broken arm overnight.

At fifteen, he compelled someone accidentally during an argument.

At sixteen, he got angry during football practice and snapped every stadium light at once.

Bonnie called him “a supernatural imbalance.”

Damon called him “karma.”

Grayson called it exhausting.

The entire town watched him differently now. Whispers followed him through school hallways.

That’s the Salvatore kid.

Something’s wrong with him.

He’s dangerous.

Maybe they were right.

Because lately Grayson had been hearing voices.

Not voices exactly. More like memories that didn’t belong to him.

Visions hit him randomly — flashes of ancient rituals, blood-covered forests, unfamiliar faces whispering his name like they’d known him for centuries.

And every vision ended the same way.

Mystic Falls burning.

“You need to tell them,” Bonnie warned him one night.

Rain hammered against the windows of her candlelit living room while Grayson paced nervously.

“If I tell my parents I’m seeing supernatural hallucinations, Mom’ll cry and Dad’ll start drinking at noon.”

“He already drinks at noon.”

“Okay fair point.”

Bonnie’s expression stayed serious. “Gray… these visions aren’t random. Something’s calling to you.”

He stopped pacing.

“What if I don’t want to answer?”

Before Bonnie could speak, every candle in the room blew out.

Darkness swallowed the house instantly.

Then came the knock.

Three slow hits against the front door.

Bonnie froze.

Grayson’s stomach tightened.

“Who is that?” he whispered.

But deep down… he already knew.

Because the symbol from his visions suddenly appeared burned into the wooden floor beneath his feet.

And outside the house, someone whispered his name through the storm.

“Grayson Salvatore…”

A pause.

Then

“We’ve been waiting for you.”

Bonnie grabbed Grayson’s arm before he could move toward the door.

“Don’t open it.”

The knocking came again.

Three slow hits.

Calm. Patient. Like whoever stood outside already knew they’d eventually be let in.

Grayson swallowed hard. “You know who it is, don’t you?”

Bonnie’s silence answered him.

Lightning flashed through the windows, briefly illuminating the symbol burned into the floorboards beneath them — black lines twisting into an ancient crest neither of them had seen in years.

Or hoped to see again.

“No,” Bonnie whispered. “That’s impossible.”

Another knock.

The air inside the house suddenly dropped freezing cold.

Then the front door creaked open by itself.

A tall man stepped inside wearing a dark coat soaked from the rain. He looked young — maybe early twenties — but his eyes felt ancient. Sharp blue eyes locked directly onto Grayson like he’d spent years searching for him.

Bonnie instantly raised her hand, magic crackling at her fingertips.

“Take one more step and I’ll stop your heart.”

The stranger barely looked at her.

“You can try.”

Grayson felt something strange in his chest the second their eyes met. Not fear.

Recognition.

Like he already knew him somehow.

The man’s gaze softened slightly. “You look like your mother.”

“Okay,” Grayson said nervously, “that sentence is horrifying.”

“Who are you?” Bonnie demanded.

The stranger finally answered.

“My name is Lucien.”

Bonnie’s face drained of color.

“No…” she breathed.

Grayson looked between them. “That’s bad, right? The pale face usually means bad.”

Bonnie ignored him. “Lucien died.”

“Almost.”

The room fell silent except for the storm outside.

Grayson’s pulse hammered in his ears while Lucien stepped closer carefully, like approaching a wild animal.

“You’ve been having visions,” Lucien said quietly. “The fire. The voices. The town burning.”

Grayson stiffened. “How do you know that?”

“Because it’s starting again.”

Bonnie stepped in front of Grayson protectively. “He’s not involved.”

Lucien’s expression darkened. “He was born involved.”

The lights flickered violently.

Grayson suddenly felt pressure building inside his chest again — too much energy, too many emotions all at once.

Ever since the visions started, he’d felt… unstable.

Angrier.

Stronger.

Hungrier.

And now standing near Lucien only made it worse.

“What am I?” Grayson asked finally.

Nobody answered immediately.

That terrified him more than anything.

Bonnie looked heartbroken.

Lucien looked certain.

“You’re the last bloodline,” Lucien said softly. “The final balance between vampire, witch, and human.”

Grayson let out a disbelieving laugh. “Cool. So I’m basically a supernatural group project.”

“You’re a weapon.”

The words hit hard.

Bonnie snapped, “Enough.”

But Lucien kept his eyes on Grayson.

“There are others coming for you already. Creatures older than the Originals. They believe if they control you… they control every supernatural species left alive.”

Grayson’s breathing grew uneven.

“This isn’t possible.”

“It is,” Lucien said. “And your parents are completely unprepared for what’s happening to you.”

At that exact moment, the front door slammed open again.

Damon stormed inside at vampire speed with Elena right behind him.

The second Damon saw Lucien, his entire expression changed.

Violent.

“Elena,” Damon said coldly, never taking his eyes off the stranger, “take our son upstairs.”

Grayson frowned. “Dad—”

“Now.”

Lucien smiled faintly. “Still protective after all these years.”

Damon’s eyes darkened.

“You should’ve stayed dead.”

And suddenly every window in Bonnie’s house exploded inward at once.

Rainwater dripped from Elias’ coat as he stared at Nathan with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“You think she’s safe with you?” he asked softly.

Nathan didn’t move. “Safer than she ever was with you.”

Elias laughed once under his breath. “She used to cry when I got angry.” His eyes shifted toward Y/N behind Nathan. “You remember that, baby?”

Y/N felt sick.

Nathan noticed the way she flinched.

That was all it took.

Nathan stepped out into the hallway and slammed the apartment door shut behind him before she could stop him.

“Nathan—!”

The muffled sound of a punch cracked through the door.

Then another.

Y/N’s heart nearly exploded as shouting erupted outside. She grabbed the handle, but before she could open it, something heavy hit the wall hard enough to shake the frame.

“Say her name again,” Nathan growled outside, voice violent and low. “I dare you.”

Elias laughed breathlessly. “Oh, she didn’t tell you? She always comes back.”

Another punch.

A choke.

A crash against the hallway table.

Y/N finally yanked the door open.

Nathan had Elias pinned against the wall by his throat, gun pressed beneath his jaw. Blood ran from Elias’ split lip, but he was still smiling like a lunatic.

Nathan looked terrifying.

Not angry.

Worse.

Calm.

“She’s scared of you,” Nathan said quietly. “And you still think that’s love.”

Elias’ eyes flicked toward Y/N. “You replace me that fast?” he mocked. “With a hitman?”

Nathan pressed the gun harder under his chin.

“One more word,” Nathan warned, “and she’ll never have to look over her shoulder again.”

Y/N grabbed Nathan’s arm instantly. “Don’t kill him.”

Nathan didn’t look at her.

Elias did.

And he smiled.

“There she is,” he whispered. “Still saving people who hurt her.”

Nathan’s jaw clenched so hard she thought he might ignore her completely.

But after a long, horrible second, he finally lowered the gun.

Elias coughed, straightening slowly, eyes burning with hatred now.

“This isn’t over,” he said to her.

Nathan stepped in front of her immediately. “It is if you want to keep breathing.”

For the first time, Elias looked uncertain.

Not scared.

But close.

He backed away down the hallway slowly, never taking his eyes off her.

Then he disappeared into the storm.

Silence filled the apartment.

Y/N’s hands shook uncontrollably as Nathan shut and locked the door again.

“You should’ve killed him,” she whispered weakly.

Nathan leaned against the door, breathing hard.

His knuckles were bloody.

“So should you,” he replied quietly.

If so

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Darkness swallowed the room.

Y/N’s pulse pounded as she heard movement outside — a car door shutting softly beneath the storm.

“He’s coming here,” she whispered.

Nathan moved toward the window without panic, barely pulling the curtain aside enough to look out. “Stay behind me.”

“You say that like this happens every day.”

“For me, it does.”

Another knock echoed through the apartment.

Slow.

Deliberate.

Y/N stopped breathing because she knew that knock. Elias used to do it all the time when he was angry — three calm taps before he lost control completely.

Nathan unlocked his gun with a quiet click.

“Do not open the door,” he warned.

The knocking came again.

Then Elias’ voice drifted through the wood, smooth and familiar enough to make her sick.

“Baby, I know you’re in there.”

Tears burned her eyes instantly.

Nathan glanced back at her. “That what he calls you?”

“He used to.”

Outside, Elias laughed softly. “You disappeared without saying goodbye. That hurt my feelings.”

Nathan’s expression darkened.

“Funny,” he muttered. “I was just thinking the same thing.”

Y/N grabbed Nathan’s sleeve before he could move toward the door. “Don’t. He’s insane.”

Nathan looked down at her shaking hand gripping his jacket.

Then at her terrified face.

Something dangerous shifted in his expression.

“I know.”

The doorknob suddenly rattled violently.

Y/N gasped.

Elias sighed dramatically from the hallway. “You changed the locks again? That’s rude.”

Nathan stepped closer to the door. “You got ten seconds to walk away.”

Silence.

Then—

“Oh,” Elias said softly. “So this is the guy you hired.”

Nathan’s jaw tightened.

“You must be Nathan Doe.”

Y/N looked between the door and Nathan in horror. “How does he know your name?”

Nathan didn’t answer.

Outside, Elias continued talking casually like they were old friends.

“I know everything about the people around her,” he said. “That’s what happens when you love someone enough.”

Nathan’s grip tightened around the gun.

“That’s not love,” Y/N whispered.

“No,” Nathan agreed coldly. “It’s obsession.”

A long pause followed.

Then Elias chuckled darkly.

“You should leave, Nathan,” he warned. “She was mine long before you showed up.”

Nathan finally unlocked the deadbolt.

Y/N’s heart stopped. “Nathan—”

He opened the door halfway.

Elias stood there smiling in the rain, hands in his pockets, looking perfectly normal despite the madness burning in his eyes.

The two men stared at each other silently.

Then Nathan spoke.

“She’s not yours anymore.”

Elias’ smile slowly disappeared.

And for the first time that night—