🌸

I steady my breathing and push ahead, instinctively taking the lead as the cadets stretch out behind me. It feels like punishment—like the lieutenants decided extended curfew deserved interest. Vomit stains the edges of the trail where recruits have peeled off, gagging and dragging themselves forward. Every complaint earns another mile.

We have six left.

My stomach rolls in protest. My legs burn. Even I’m not sure how much longer I can keep this pace.

“Hey, Y/N!” Gideon’s voice breaks through the haze, labored but still annoyingly upbeat. “Could you slow down a little?”

“And fall behind with the rest of them?” I huff, not sparing him a glance. “Hard pass.”

He laughs breathlessly as he pulls up beside me. “Guess you’re number two on the leaderboard for a reason.”

“…And you’re number three for a reason too,” I shoot back, a grin tugging at my mouth. “If you want to talk, keep up. If you can.”

That does it.

I feel him surge forward, competitive energy snapping into place as he matches my pace. Whatever fog was clinging to me lifts, replaced by that familiar burn—the one I chase every time I push my limits. We pull farther ahead, boots pounding dirt in near-perfect sync.

I glance sideways.

His shirt is soaked through, clinging to muscle and sweat, stray hairs darkened against his forehead. Focused. Steady. Inviting, even when he’s clearly suffering.

Our eyes meet.

And just like that, last night slips back in.

The bar. The water Caleb insisted I drink before leaving. Slipping back inside for my jacket. Gideon’s gaze locked onto my mouth the second I spoke—lip gloss smeared, careless, and obvious.

———————————————————————————

(callback)

“Thanks for holding my jacket.”

He’d handed it over—then tugged it back just enough to pull me closer.

“So,” he’d asked quietly, eyes darker in the low light, “are you two together now?”

“No,” I’d said. Probably too fast and honest.

His smile hadn’t quite reached his eyes. “Then our friend’s not as smart as I thought he was.”

Concern. Real concern. Not curiosity. Not jealousy.

That was what unsettled me most.

———————————————————————————

For all the ways Caleb pushes me—suspicion, heat, questions that itch under my skin—

Gideon brings out something else.

Something softer. Which is probably why I don’t see it coming. My foot catches on a loose rock. The ground pitches sharply beneath me, balance gone in an instant.

“—Y/N!”

Gideon lunges, grabbing for me at the same time I reach for him. Momentum does the rest. We go down hard, skidding off the trail and into the dirt with a grunt of impact and tangled limbs.

I groan, blinking up at the sky, chest heaving. Gideon lets out a breathless laugh beside me, propped on one elbow, hair a mess.

“Well,” he pants, “that’s one way to slow down.”

I shove at his shoulder, half-hearted. “You tackled me.”

“Saved you,” he corrects, still smiling. “Big difference.”

Before I can retort, a shadow falls over us.

“Cadets.” The voice is sharp. Displeased.

We scramble upright instantly, brushing dirt from our uniforms as a high-ranking lieutenant stands over us, eyes flicking between us with thinly veiled disapproval.

“On your feet. Both of you.”

“Yes, sir,” we answer in unison.

His gaze lingers on me a second longer. Assessing.

“Y/N,” he says. “You’re to report for private EVOL training after supper tonight.”

My brows knit together. That’s… unusual.

“Sir?” I manage. “I wasn’t informed—”

“You are now.” A pause. “Be on time.”

“Yes, sir.”

He turns and walks off without another word.

Gideon exhales beside me. “Private EVOL training?” He whistles softly. “Guess number two really does come with perks.”

“Or punishments,” I mutter.

We take off running again, but the rhythm’s gone. This has my father’s name written all over it. My thoughts snag, looping around the same unanswered question.

Private EVOL training… with who?

I don’t get my answer until night falls.

———————————————————————————

The training room is dim when I arrive, lights low, Evol dampeners humming faintly through the walls. I step inside and freeze.

Caleb stands at the center of the room, sleeves rolled up his taut forearms, expression unreadable. His violet eyes lift the second the door shuts behind me.

Oh.

So that’s why.

I let out a breath of surprise, my lips lifting into a knowing smile.

“Should’ve guessed it would be you,” I say, setting my bag down on the nearest bench. “But then again, I wasn’t sure you’d have the guts to show your face around me after that heartfelt confession you staged last night.”

He ignores the jab with professional precision. “You’re here for Evol training, not chitchat.”

I laugh. Once. Dry. “Cute deflection. Try again.”

Caleb’s gaze flicks up sharply, sharp eyes locking onto mine. “What exactly do you think this is?”

“I think,” I say, stepping closer, voice lowering just enough to sharpen it, “that my father doesn’t pull strings unless there’s a return. And I think you don’t volunteer for anything unless you’re getting paid in something better than academy praise.”

Silence.

That’s my confirmation.

“So,” I continue sweetly, circling him like a predator sizing up a weak spot, “what did he offer you?”

He scoffs lightly, and then raises a brow down at me. “This training isn’t about—”

“—Don’t,” I cut in instantly. “Don’t insult me by pretending this is altruism. My Evol isn’t exactly easy to understand, so I know this came with some kind of compensation.”

I stop in front of him, meeting his gaze head-on.

“I heal people around me,” I say flatly. “Not myself. Which means every time I get hurt, it's a liability. Command hates that. Inefficient. Uncontrollable.”

His eyes flicker—not to my face this time, but to my arms. Like he’s already imagining injuries I haven’t taken yet.

“So tell me,” I press, “why would you agree to help them fix me? I’ll find out either way, so it’s better to just tell me now.”

A slow exhale leaves him. Controlled. Careful.

“Because,” he says, “they want to see if your Evol can be stabilized under pressure.”

“And you?” I tilt my head, not surprised by his answer. “What do you want?”

That does it.

He reaches into the pocket of his jacket and pulls something out—not immediately offering it, just letting it sit there in his palm.

A phone.

Not an academy-issued communicator.

Personal. Off-grid.

My stomach drops.

“They’re restoring limited outside contact,” he says quietly. “Monitored. Temporary.”

My laugh is sharp, incredulous. “So that’s it. My father dangles his leash, and you jump.”

His eyes harden. “Careful.”

“I’m always careful,” I shoot back. “You didn’t do this because of orders, or to help me. You did it for her.”

A flicker. Gone just as fast.

“Are you done with this? Or did you forget everything I said last night?”

“Please,” I scoff. “You’d wrestle gravity itself if it meant getting five minutes alone to talk with your precious—”

The ground shifts, not violently. Not dramatically.

Just enough.

It’s the first time I’ve experienced Caleb use his Evol on me, even though I’ve seen him practice it from afar.

My boots suddenly feel heavier, my balance tipping forward as gravity pulls—not down, but toward him. Controlled, and precise.

Caleb steps into my space, eyes blazing now, voice low and dangerous. “Don’t.”

I steady myself, refusing to give him the satisfaction of stumbling. “What?” I smirk. “You going to drop me to prove a point?”

“I don’t need to,” he says. “Gravity always listens to me.”

I feel it then—the pressure, subtle but undeniable, like the air itself is responding to his presence.

“And your EVOL,” he continues, quieter now, “listens to everyone’s needs but your own.”

That one lands.

I hate that it does.

He releases the pull just as smoothly, the weight lifting from my limbs like it was never there.

“They paired us,” he says, stepping back, reins pulled tight again, “because if you panic, people around you siphon your healing. And you’re left defenseless.”

“And if you lose control,” I counter, “you could flatten half the academy.”

His lips curve—not a smile. Something darker.

“Exactly.”

I cross my arms. “So what’s the plan, golden boy? You toss me around until I learn not to bleed?”

“No,” he says. “I push you until you stop reacting.”

“Bold strategy.”

“It works.”

I scoff. “You sound awfully confident.”

His gaze drags over me, slow and deliberate. “I always am.”

I step into the center of the training field, rolling my shoulders. “Fine. Let’s play your little experiment.”

Then I glance back over my shoulder, eyes sharp and knowing. “But just so we’re clear, Caleb—if my father thinks you’re here to fix me…”

I smile. “…he’s about to be very disappointed.”

And judging by the way gravity hums faintly in the air around us—

So is Caleb

———————————————————————————

Minutes, or hours could’ve passed in this training room. My muscles sing with strain as I dodge another swift kick from Caleb, but as I quickly move out the way, his elbow connects with the right side of my face. White-hot pain flashes through me, sharp enough to steal my breath, making me fall hard against the padded floor.

He knew exactly where to hit me.

My father’s damage to my cheek from yesterday is still sore, still swollen beneath my skin—a stark reminder of his disappointment. Usually, this wouldn’t faze me. Being a disappointment to my father isn’t something new for me; it’s practically a language I was raised fluent in.

But having perfect Caleb exploit it?

That ignites something ugly in my chest as he hovers over me, all height and control, shadows cutting across his sharp features.

I spit out the little bit of blood that fills my mouth, my burning gaze flickering up to him.

“Do you feel better now?” I snap. “I’m sure you’ve been waiting to do that since the first time I opened my mouth.”

A light scoff leaves his tilted lips.

“On the contrary,” he says in an all-too-soft voice.

I want to return the favor—drive my elbow straight into his chiseled jaw—but when I try to move, my body doesn’t respond.

Frozen.

Pinned.

Caleb’s Evol tightens around me, manipulating the very gravity centered on my body. The air thickens, presses, settles like a second skin.

“This was the furthest thing from my mind the first time you opened your mouth.”

Amusement fills his gaze as realization creeps in, slow and infuriating. He watches me test the weight, watches me fail.

My heart pounds like a drum in my chest. Maybe out of anger. Maybe out of something far more dangerous. He lowers himself until we’re face to face, close enough that I can feel his breath shift.

My brows pinch—at least he hasn’t taken my right to speak. Or to glare.

…asshole.

“…You’re right,” I say, falsely fluttering my lashes as I meet his gaze, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing me break under his hands. “If I remember correctly, you were reeling over the fact that I resemble your girl back home.”

His jaw ticks. Good.

“What’s her name anyway?” I continue smoothly. “Better yet—why don’t you finally tell me what she actually is to you?”

My words don’t skip a beat when his Evol suddenly weighs down harder. If anything, it drives me further, because he’s too easy to provoke when her name circles the air between us.

“What did Gideon say yesterday in lecture,” I strain, sweat breaking out along my spine from the pressure, “before you rudely cut him off…?”

The gravity increases again, trying to flatten me into the mats—but I fight it, muscles screaming.

“…That she’s practically your sister—”

I can’t fight anymore.

The floor turns magnetic, like I’m the missing piece being dragged home. I’m flattened onto my back. In the same breath that his ability overwhelms me, his hand snaps to my face, fingers digging into my jaw.

His eyes are fully black now, Evol bleeding through beneath the flickering lights.

I breathe out heavily, the air forced from my lungs in short, broken exhales.

“Gideon’s full of shit,” he seethes, control gone. “And so are you if you listen to a word he says.”

His grip tightens. “What makes you think I owe either of you an explanation about my relationship with M/C?”

M/C.

Of course.

The name settles like a bruise. The girl would have an equally pretty name to match her appearance—soft, delicate, untouched. Like a perfect angel personally crafted for someone like Caleb.

“I don’t think Gideon needs an explanation,” I manage through another wave of gravity. “Unless you kissed him too?”

Even now, even pinned, the teasing still bleeds through.

He rolls his eyes and finally lessens the pressure, though not enough to free me. His hand drops from my face, and I suck in a sharp breath like I’ve been underwater too long.

His knees rest on either side of me as he kneels.

If the situation were different, I’d probably be a pool of liquid at the sight.

Confliction ripples through him—visible in the tight set of his jaw, in the uneven rise and fall of his chest beneath his fitted workout shirt. He looks like he hates that I can see it.

“We’re childhood friends,” he says finally, words rough, like they scrape on the way out. “Raised together. Nothing more. Nothing less.”

My mind turns it over slowly.

There’s more. There has to be.

“That’s it?” My eyes flicker to the dog tags still hanging around his neck. Of course he’d be comfortable wearing my father’s leash—he already has another one. A physical one, to be exact.

A claiming.

A warning.

A statement to anyone else that Caleb is solely hers.

“Her mistake,” I murmur, gaze darkening as understanding clicks into place. “If it’s truly nothing more than that.”

I tilt my head slightly. “To have someone like you around that long… and she’s still never given you a taste?”

His eyes widen, pupils blown, like I’ve spoken something forbidden.

“And yet,” I add quietly, “she still marks you as hers.”

His Evol stutters—just barely—as I raise my hand and rest it against his chest. The metal beneath my palm is warm. He is warm.

“Selfish,” I whisper.

He shudders out an exhale as my hand slides slowly downward, over clothed muscle that jumps beneath my touch, tension rippling with every inch.

“I wouldn’t ever be that selfish with you, Caleb.” I say his name like a slow drag of teeth. My fingers stop at his belt buckle. “But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

His chest rises and falls as he watches me, restraint thinning to a thread. He’s the epitome of strength—corded muscle, powerful thighs bracketing me—but right now, as he stares down with his jaw slack and pupils blown wide, he’s anything but untouchable.

This is everything I’ve wanted since I laid eyes on him.

“If you want me,” I say, voice steady despite the heat curling low in my stomach, “in the way I know you do… you can have it.”

“Say that again,” he murmurs, lowering himself, thumb tracing my bottom lip. I feel the swallow drag down his throat.

The gravity around me doesn’t lessen.

It deepens.

His Evol pulls me upward, forcing my body to arch up against his—my soft heat pressed to solid muscle, my full breasts straining against the confines of my sports bra, aching for contact.

He leans down, inhaling my scent slowly, nose grazing my neck.

“Don’t go silent on me now, Y/N,” he whispers against my ear, voice rough with want. “Tell me everything you’re going to let me have.”

“Do you need a diagram, Caleb?” I breathe out a gasp—not because of the weight of his gravity holding me in place, but because of where he’s suddenly focusing it now.

The pressure mimics pulses deliberately over the already sensitive peaks of my breasts, along the curve of my hips, lingering dangerously close to the aching heat between my thighs.

And the worst part?

He knows exactly what he’s doing.

“A diagram.." Caleb exhales, voice ragged—but then his mouth curves into something dangerous. His fingers slide from my jaw and down my throat, just resting, just testing. “Don’t insult me. I know exactly where to touch you."

His Evol pulses deliberately between my thighs, a slow, torturous press—then vanishes entirely, leaving me gasping at the sudden loss. His smirk is all sin as he leans in, lips brushing my ear.

"But you want me to prove it?”

“What…—you can’t?" My breath hitches, but I force a smirk, even as my pulse thrums where his fingers still rest against my throat. “Funny. For someone who claims to know where to touch me, you’re still hesitating."

His grip tightens, not enough to hurt, but enough to make my next inhale shaky. “Is this hesitating?" Caleb’s laugh is dark, warm against my skin as his free hand skates down my side, stopping just above my hip. “Y/N, I’m savoring it."

The pads of his fingers dig in, possessive, as his voice drops to a whisper. “You want proof? Let’s see how long you can keep that pretty, defiant look on your face when I—”

His Evol wrenches my hips up against his in one brutal motion, forcing a gasp from my lips. The sudden friction burns through the thin fabric of my shorts, and his smirk turns victorious.

"—when I finally take what you’ve been offering."

"Open your mouth for me," Caleb demands, voice thick with hunger as his fingers tighten in my hair. I obey instantly, parting my lips just in time for his tongue to slide against mine in a slow, filthy drag that would have my back arching off the mats, if it weren’t already.

“Fuck—you taste even better than last night," he growls between kisses, his hands roaming possessively down my sides, sliding my shirt up, his thumbs then brushing the undersides of my breasts through my sweat-slicked sports bra.

“Tell me you want this. Tell me you’ve been thinking about it."

I gasp as his teeth sink into my bottom lip, the sharp sting melting into pleasure.

“Wouldn’t you like—ah—to know?" My challenge is cut short when his hand slips under my bra, calloused fingers pinching a nipple roughly. “Caleb—!"

“Say it." His mouth crashes back onto mine, swallowing my moans as his other hand yanks my shorts aside, fingers sliding through slick heat. “Or do I need to ruin you first?"

I can’t gather any words as his sure fingers glide against my soaked core, teasing my aching nub.

"Fuck—say it," Caleb snarls, his free hand gripping my chin hard enough to bruise as his hips grind down, letting me feel every impossible inch of him straining against his athletic pants. “Tell me how bad you want this. Tell me you’ve been imagining my hands on you, my cock in you—or I walk away right now."

The threat sends a jolt through me—no, no he wouldn’t, but the dark promise in his eyes says otherwise. His thumb swipes roughly over my lower lip, smearing the spit from our kisses.

“Last chance, Y/N."

I whimper, my fingers clenching the cloth of his shirt, the words tumbling out in a breathless rush: "I—I need it, Caleb, please—"

“Louder." His teeth sink into my shoulder, stealing my gasp.

"I want you to ruin me!" The confession tears from my throat, raw and desperate.

A satisfied growl rumbles against my skin as he finally—finally—slides a finger inside me, curling just so. “Good girl.”

The training gym fills with sounds of my soft gasps, and the obscene wetness of my core with each pump of his thick fingers coaxing me closer to the edge.

We’re both clinging to each other—his breath at my neck, and my teeth sinking into his shoulder when the intercom blares throughout the room.

The sharp chime cuts through the air.

The training room lights flicker once, twice.

Caleb freezes.

The gravity vanishes all at once, and I gasp as the weight of him, and his Evol lifts as he quickly reacts. My body finally obeying me again. I shove myself upright with lightning speed.

A lieutenant’s voice echoes in, crisp and authoritative.

“Training session 421. Cadet Caleb. Cadet Y/N. Time is up .”

Caleb steps back immediately, his composure snapping into place like nothing happened—but his violet eyes linger on me, dark and warning and unfinished.

“We’re not done,” he says under his breath.

I don’t miss how he sucks his two digits clean of my essence.

“I know.”

And as I rise to my feet—legs shaking, pulse racing—I realize something dangerous and undeniable:

This definitely wasn’t training.

All of that would’ve sounded nice… if only I didn’t have my father’s words that he had told me before I came here lingering in my mind.

‘This is your last chance to prove you won’t be a stain on the family name.’

As if I summoned him with my thoughts, the sharp sting of his aftershave fills my senses. My steps pause. A heavy sigh escapes me as the lingering gazes of nearby cadets widen, immediately turning away once they recognize the brooding presence behind me.

All authority.

No warmth. My father.

“You could’ve called me into the Lieutenant’s office if you wanted to speak to me,” I say in a bored tone, turning to face him. “Or even better, we could’ve had this conversation through letters.”

I cross my arms, not looking away from his obvious glare. His deep voice rumbles when he finally speaks, resonating through the empty hallways. “I called the Lieutenant yesterday to see if you’ve caused any issues here yet—but it seems like you’re controlling yourself for now.”

…‘for now’.

As much as I want to tell him ‘there’s still plenty of daylight left to cause trouble’, I just nod. I’d rather get this over with.

“So what’s the reason for this visit? I’m sure you’re not taking time out of your busy schedule because you miss your daughter.”

He grunts in agreement, like the idea is as ridiculous to him as it sounds. He turns on his heel, expecting me to follow, so I do. His steps halt in front of the glowing leaderboard, highlighting the top cadets of the academy.

We were told the ranks could change any day, any hour.

They really haven’t.

In third: Gideon. Cheerful. Kind. Too kind.

Second: me. My (admittedly great) picture is shining bright in the neon light.

And first: Caleb. His annoyingly gorgeous, chiseled features displayed next to his name. Those violet eyes that stir something unfamiliar in my chest.

If it weren’t for our matching lecture classes, I would’ve assumed he fell off the face of the earth with how well he’s avoided me these past weeks. Rightfully so—I’ve made it a point to try and crack that perfect façade of his whenever possible.

My father’s brows are drawn tight as he stares at the board like it’s a mission briefing.

“Do you see the problem here?” he asks flatly.

I acknowledge the huge point difference between Caleb and me. The gears turn. My stomach twists. No. No, no.

“Don’t confuse me with him. I’m not shooting for glory, or badges I’ll only wear in my grave—”

Before I can continue, his gloved hand cracks across my cheek. The sound echoes down the hallway.

His breathing doesn’t even falter. His voice stays level, posture rigid. “You can, and you will obey whatever I ask of you, Y/N.” A beat. “Our family name will not be tarnished because of your inability to tap into the true power of your EVOL. You should be miles above these commoners already.”

———————————————————————————

I keep my steps confident and light as I head toward my lecture. I try to clear my thoughts, but with every blink I feel the sting on my face and hear his voice replaying, it’s nearly impossible.

My mind is still spinning when my shoulder collides with something solid—nearly knocking me onto my ass. Strong hands grip my waist, steadying me.

I exhale sharply, looking up into violet eyes that flick across my face like he’s scanning for damage. My fingers curl into the fabric of his uniform before I catch myself.

For a moment—too long, too short—I forget the pain. Forget the shame hot on my cheeks.

I try to pull away, but something in his expression makes me still. The dog tag on his neck sways between us with each breath.

“Your lip is split.” It isn’t a question—more an observation. He releases me slowly, only when he’s sure I can stand on my own. “You wouldn’t let any of the cadets land a hit during combat training, so who did you let do that to you?”

“Bold of you to assume I saw it coming.” I shrug, adjusting my bookbag. His light steps follow at my heels. “You don’t have to follow me, you know.”

A light breath of laughter escapes him. “We have the same lecture hall right now, remember?”

“…Right.” My face warms—not just from the slap. “Why are you wandering the halls anyway? Aren’t you Mr. Oh-So-Perfect?”

“I had permission. Unlike you.”

I try to ignore the fact that my father will probably make sure my tardiness vanishes from my record. I glance over at Caleb walking slightly slower beside me, eyes forward, that usual unfazed smirk on his lips. Somehow, despite everything, it feels refreshing having him here, talking without the familiar dance of teasing or avoidance.

“You never take that off, do you?” I nod toward the engraved tags on his chain. “What does it say?”

The question was harmless.

Or so I thought.

He immediately tucks the chain beneath his shirt, fingers tight around it for a moment. There it is—the telltale crack in his perfect armor. The one that tempts me to slip inside like poison.

We step into the lecture hall, students glancing over at our late entrance. I drift through the class in a blur, my mind split between my father’s voice and the pull of Caleb’s presence a few seats away.

The moment the lecture ends, chatter fills the room.

“..should we invite Y/N?” a voice behind me laughs. “She’s hot and a for-sure lay—”

I’m already turning, ready to break someone’s jaw, when Gideon’s cheerful voice cuts through like sunshine. “Hey! I thought this was supposed to be a boys’ night, remember? You still in, Caleb?”

I slow my breathing, and pretend to sort my bag… but really, I’m listening.

Another voice jumps in. “Caleb can’t. He’s got his girl waiting back home, isn’t that right?”

My hands freeze.

His girl.

My mind flashes to the picture he showed me on the first day—the girl he mistook me for. Her.

Another guy adds, “Aww he’s hiding the proof now. He doesn’t take ’em off—that ‘ball-n-chain’ around his neck. She probably gave them to him when he left for Skyhaven.”

Well, now his reaction in the hall earlier makes sense.

I glance toward Caleb. He’s silent. Too silent.

Gideon notices too. He tries to fix it. “Guys, don’t be weird. She’s practically his sis—”

A bookbag suddenly sails across the air and nails Gideon in the chest, knocking him back into his seat with a discarded papers landing on his head.

The group erupts in laughter, forgetting the entire conversation.

But Caleb… Caleb’s gaze is solely on me.

Violet eyes. Stern. Unwavering. A puzzle piece clicking into place in my mind. A bubble of laughter slips from my lips. A slow, and knowing smile curves on my mouth as I turn in my chair to face the group.

“Hey,” I say sweetly, their heads snapping from Gideon, towards the sound of my voice. “I heard something about going out tonight. Mind if I tag along?”

A rush of eager yeses.

But Caleb appears at the edge of the group like a storm cloud.

“You can’t,” he says flatly. “It’s strictly for guys tonight, Y/N.”

“Oh..?” I flutter my lashes, playful and cruel. “Is that true?”

Caleb doesn’t even blink when the guys trip over themselves to say the opposite. He steps closer, and everything goes quiet.

“It’s true,” he says again, his tone final and immovable.

I tilt my head, smiling. “Huh. Didn’t realize you were promoted to social coordinator of the entire male population.”

A muscle in his jaw ticks.

“It’s not about that,” he says, something simmering under his voice. “You’re not coming.”

“You’ve barely looked at me for weeks,” I counter lightly. “And now suddenly have a say in where I go and who I drink with?”

“That’s not what this is.”

“Right. Boys’ night.” I grin. “Sounds sacred.”

Another guy starts to snort, but Caleb shuts him up with a single look.

I rise, swinging my pack over my shoulder. His gaze flickers to the lingering flush on my cheek, the split on my lip. Anger tightens behind his guarded eyes.

He steps closer, voice low, meant only for me. “Tonight isn’t safe for you to go out. Not like this.”

My brows lift. Not like this.

So he did notice. He sees every ounce of damage my father did that I failed to hide.

I shrug, breezy and unaffected. “I’m a big girl. I’ll manage.”

“You shouldn’t go,” he repeats, firmer. Not dismissive this time. Not cold. Something rawer.

“Well, you shouldn’t throw bookbags at Gideon,” I hum. “But here we are.”

His lips part, but whatever comeback he had dies behind his eyes, lost somewhere between restraint and the ghost of the girl he keeps seeing when he looks at me for too long.

So instead he steps back, walls slamming into place.

“Do whatever you want,” he mutters, irritation sharp in his voice directed at himself more than me.

I brush past him, slow and deliberate, close enough that our shoulders nearly touch, the same song and dance for us.

“I usually do,” I whisper.

And as I walk toward the exit, I can feel his stare burning into my back, conflicted, frustrated, and trying so damn hard not to care.

Trying.

And failing.

—————————————————————————

The evening air chills around me as I step out of the pickup truck I hitched a ride on with some of the front guards. I didn’t take much convincing, not when I’m wearing this outfit at least. Designer jeans that’s tight around my hips, and an equally fitted silk camisole underneath my jacket is what I’d assume to be appropriate attire for the only dive bar in this area of Skyhaven. Not too flashy, but just enough for the kind of attention I’m seeking.

And my main target? Gideon.

Familiar faces of my fellow buzzed cadets blur past me as I head up the short steps of the bustling bar. Deep bass thrums through the opening, and I welcome the heady warmth, a feeling I’ve almost forgotten in my past year of, unfortunately, denouncing my partying ways.

It doesn't take long for me to spot Gideon in the crowd, his height towering over most.

“Two tequila shots for my friend and I over here, please!” I shout out to the bartender, while taking a spot at the bar right beside him.

“Y/N!” Gideon's cheerful voice welcomes me, his clear gaze shifting over my different attire.“I had a good feeling you’d show up. It was starting to get a little boring here without my leading lady.”

I return his bright smile, handing him a shot.

It doesn’t take much convincing before Gideon lets me pull him onto the dance floor with the other couples. The shots we downed earlier settle warm and heavy in my chest, like a hearth I didn’t realize I’d missed. After weeks of brutal training, this feels… nice. Necessary, even.

And as much as I hate admitting it—… fun.

Gideon’s hand is warm around mine, steady in a way that makes something in me want to lean in. It’s no doubt that he’s handsome. Everyone at the academy knows it. The kind of handsome that makes instructors go soft and other cadets trip over their own boots. And standing this close, cheeks flushed from alcohol and laughter, it hits me just how much his features sort’ve resembles Caleb’s.

Close enough to sting.

Close enough to use.

That thought makes something twist in my stomach. Gideon’s a genuinely good guy—rare, dangerous in its own way—and the way he watches me as we sway in the crowd makes it feel even worse. His gaze is open, earnest, like he thinks this is about him.

As if hearing the argument I’m having with myself, he leans down. His breath brushes my cheek.

“Are you feeling okay?” he asks, his voice soft, threaded with concern. “Maybe we should’ve stopped at two shots.”

He’s close, too close, and my hands lift on instinct, palms resting lightly on his chest. He’s all heat and steady muscle beneath my fingers.

“I’m fine,” I murmur, tipping my chin up to meet his eyes. “Actually…” My smile tilts, casual but calculated. “I was wondering why Caleb didn’t show up tonight. He said he would.”

Gideon’s expression shifts the moment he registers my question about Caleb. The warmth in his eyes dims, not angry, just quietly disappointed. The kind of disappointment that sinks into the ribs.

“So that’s why you wanted to dance with me tonight,” he says, voice gentler than I deserve. “To ask about him.”

I open my mouth, but he cuts in with a small, sad smile that’s nothing but sincere.

“You know, despite how Caleb is hard on you most of the time, he’s really great. I hope things work well for you, Y/N.”

Something tight pulls across my chest before I can decide if it’s guilt or annoyance as he reluctantly pulls away.

“…speak of the devil,” Gideon murmurs, eyes flicking past my shoulder.

I turn—… and there he is.

Caleb moves through the crowd like it parts for him, steps steady, violet gaze spotting me instantly. He’s still in his standard academy jacket, unbothered by how out of place he looks among drunk cadets and blaring music.

He stops right beside us, not sparing Gideon more than a brief, disinterested glance. His attention is fixed only on me, unreadable and sharp enough to cut.

“Your father sent me to find you,” he deadpans.

The words punch the air straight out of my lungs.

“Hey, Caleb—” Gideon starts, ever the mediator, “shouldn’t she be able to decide when she wants to leave?”

My body moves before my thoughts can catch up, stepping away from the dance floor, through the crowd, and toward the door like I’m following a command coded into my bloodstream.

Gideon’s voice fades behind me.

So much for gathering any useful information tonight..

Caleb doesn’t look back to acknowledge him.

Outside, the cold hits harder than I expect. I wrap my arms around myself, breath visible in the pale light spilling from the bar sign. I stop a few steps ahead of him. He doesn’t give me space, and doesn’t back away, just stands there, watching me with that unblinking intensity that always makes me feel like I’m being tested.

“Is he really looking for me?” I finally breathe out.

Caleb’s reply is instant, blunt, and infuriatingly honest.

“No.”

My brows knit together. “Then why—”

“But mentioning him,” he cuts in, voice low as he steps closer, “made you move quicker.”

The implication hits harder than the cold.

My lips part, but nothing comes out. Caleb holds my gaze for one long, shattering second, before he finally looks away, jaw tightening.

The nerve of him… the absolute audacity.

My jaw tightens, heat rising under my skin, not the pleasant kind from the dance floor, but the kind that crawls up the back of my neck like fire.

“So that’s it?” I snap, stepping back from him. “You couldn’t just ask me to step outside like a normal person? You had to throw my father’s name around like some kind of fucking leash?”

Caleb’s expression doesn’t shift. Not even a twitch.

“It worked.”

That does it for me.

“Oh, fuck you,” I bite out, shoving past him. The night air feels colder as I storm off down the sidewalk, my heels echoing sharply against the cracked pavement. I don’t care where I’m going, I just need distance. Space. Whatever air that isn’t thick with his arrogance.

Behind me, his steps follow, quietly and unhurried, like he knows I’ll burn myself out eventually.

I whirl on him, fury boiling over. “You think just because you’re the golden boy of Skyhaven, that you can push people around? Manipulate them? Use whatever you know hurts just to get your way?”

Caleb stops a few steps in front of me. The glow from the bar sign casts harsh shadows across his face, sharpening every perfect line.

“I did what I needed to do to get you out of there,” he says evenly. “You were drunk, dancing with Gideon—who clearly only wanted something from you—”

“Oh, don’t pretend this is about protecting me,” I cut in, voice rising. “You don’t get to act like you give a damn when you spend every other day avoiding me.”

A muscle in his jaw ticks.

Finally, another inch in that perfect armor.

“And you,” he counters quietly, “don’t get to throw yourself into whatever reckless situation you want and expect me not to notice.”

“Why?!” The word tears out of me, louder than I expected. “Why do you even care? You don’t even know me.”

He doesn’t answer right away, but his eyes flicker down to my lips that’s still split on my bottom pout. No matter how I tried to disguise it tonight—he’s still the only one to notice.

And that sends my temper spiraling. I turn on my heel, ready to march straight down the street until my legs give out or the academy drones come looking for me again. But I barely take two steps before a hand wraps firmly around my wrist. Not rough,just inescapable.

“Let go,” I grit out, trying to pull free.

He doesn’t, instead he pulls me in, just enough to turn me and to angle me toward the shadowed brick wall beside the bar’s exit. The cold surface hits my back, stopping me short.

Caleb steps in. We’re close enough that the space between us disappears into nothing but heat and breath and tension. His eyes find mine, sharp, violet, and maddeningly unreadable.

“You don’t get to walk away in the middle of a conversation,” he says, low and controlled. “Not when you’re this angry.”

My pulse thunders in my ears, and not from fear—but from fury, and something dangerously close to its twin.

“Move,”

His voice drops to a razor’s edge.

“Yeah. I don’t think so.”

His refusal hangs between us, heavy as the cold brick at my back.

Fine.

If he wants a conversation, he’s going to get one.

“Alright,” I say, breath tight with fury, “then let’s actually talk.”

Caleb’s eyes narrow, guarded. “That’s what I’ve been trying to—”

“No,” I cut in, stabbing a finger into his chest before I can stop myself. “You’ve been dodging. Evading. Acting like I’m some problem you need to manage instead of a person you have to deal with.”

His jaw tenses, but he doesn’t interrupt.

“Every time you look at me,” I continue, anger shaking loose the words I’ve been swallowing for weeks, “you get that… that look. Like you’re trying so hard not to see something. Or someone.”

His breath stills.

“And I finally figured it out.” My lips curl into a bitter smile, while searching up into his eyes. “It’s her, isn’t it? That girl in the photo from the ceremony. The one you shoved in my face like it’s your treasure.”

His shoulders stiffen, just a fraction. But on Caleb, a fraction might as well be a confession.

“You think I don’t see it?” I press, stepping forward even though there’s nowhere for me to go. Hardness meeting against soft. “The way you freeze up whenever I get too close. The way you disappear from my sight, only to suddenly reappear the second someone else gets within arm’s reach of me?”

“Y/N—”

“Don’t you dare say my name like that,” I snap. “Like you’re calm and I’m being irrational.”

Caleb exhales slowly, trying, and failing to keep his mask intact. His hands brace on either side of me against the brick, closing in, using his height against me.

“You’re wrong,” he says, voice low, strained. “This isn’t about—”

“It is about her.”

I don’t yell it. I don’t need to. The truth lands between us heavy as stone.

“It’s always been about her,” I whisper, the words tasting like something too raw to admit. “You’re not interested in me. You’re only reacting to her, and whatever she is to you.”

His throat works around a swallow. A tell he never shows anyone else, so I press harder.

“And that’s why you’re so angry whenever I do anything you don’t like. Not because you care about me.” My voice drops to something cutting, but shaky at the edges. The words pour out of me, fueled by the liquor coursing through my system. “But because I look like her. Because I remind you of her. Because some twisted part of you wants what you can’t have, and you hate that I’m not her, that you can’t control me.”

His violet eyes flicker with pain, conflict, frustration, just too many things all at once. For once he doesn’t reach for some smooth dismissal, or some cold remark. He just stands there, breathing hard. Like I’ve ripped open something he’s spent years keeping shut.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

But he won’t meet my eyes, and that tells me everything.

“Say something else,” I whisper. “Anything that isn’t complete avoidance for once.”

For a moment, he doesn’t breathe.

Then Caleb’s jaw tightens, once, hard, and when he finally meets my eyes, something in him has cracked. Not shattered. Just enough to show the truth beneath the armor.

“You really want an answer?” His voice is low, rough enough to scrape along my spine. “Fine, then listen.”

His hands drop from the wall, but he doesn’t step back. If anything, he stands closer—close enough that I feel the heat coming off him, the tension coiling tight under his skin.

“You think this is about her.” A humorless laugh escapes him. “You think I’m looking at you and seeing someone else.”

He shakes his head slowly, eyes burning brighter than the neon lights behind him.

“No,” he mutters. “Not even close.”

I open my mouth, but he cuts me off, voice sharper now, faster, like he’s afraid he’ll lose his courage if he hesitates.

“Do you want to know why I disappear? Why I don’t look at you too long? Why I avoid you like you’re something I shouldn’t want but can’t stop thinking about?” His breath hits my cheek, warm and frustrated. “Because it pisses me off.”

My heart stutters.

My brows pinch, confusion in my features. “What—”

“It pisses me off,” he repeats, voice dropping even lower, “watching every guy in that academy fall over themselves trying to get near you. Laughing with you. Training with you. Touching you.”

My brows raise in surprise, because this isn’t the Caleb everyone else sees. This is the one he keeps buried.

“And yeah,” he admits with a clenched jaw, “maybe the resemblance is what drew me to you at first—but you’re different—in single every way.” his eyes search mine as he continues. “I am selfish. Maybe I shouldn’t care. We barely know each other, and I’m still…” He breaks off, dragging a hand through his hair in frustration. “I don’t want to see you with them.”

The confession is so sudden, so confusing, that the cold night air feels like it stops around us.

He steps close enough that our chests almost brush.

“I don’t want to watch you sneak off with someone else,” he says with a quiet fury that isn’t directed at me but at himself. “I don’t want to see their hands on you. I don’t want to wonder what you’re doing when you’re not in my sight.”

My pulse thunders, but I manage to whisper out, “Why?”

His eyes flicker over my face, lips, cheeks, the bruise, the split lip, slowly and deliberately.

“Because I don’t want to share you.”

The world turns into static. He says it like it’s a flaw, a confession forced out of him at gunpoint.

“I don’t have the right,” he mutters, dropping his gaze to the ground for just a second. “I know that. You’re not mine. And I keep telling myself it’s nothing… that it’s just the way things are, that you’re free to do whatever you want.”

His eyes lift again, so sharp, tormented, and betraying him completely.

“But every time I see someone else get close to you, I feel like I’m going to lose my mind.”

Silence thickens between us, dense and electric.

I swallow. “Caleb…”

He takes a small step closer just small enough to show restraint, just close enough to destroy it.

“Tell me I’m wrong,” he murmurs, voice sanded down with something I’ve never heard from him before. “Tell me you don’t feel anything when I look at you. That I’m imagining it. Tell me, so I can walk away from you for good.”

His breath ghosts across my lips.

“Tell me,” he whispers achingly close. “And I’ll walk away right now, Y/N.”

His breath is still on my lips when I slightly move back.

A soft laugh slips out of me so quiet, but sharp enough to cut the thread of tension just enough for me to speak. “You don’t want to share me?” I tilt my chin up, deliberately brushing the space between us. “Caleb, be serious. You’re only acting like this because I look like—”

I don’t even get to finish the sentence.

He growls, low, guttural, nothing like the calm, golden-boy persona he shows everyone else, and the sound vibrates right through me. Then his hand is at my jaw, firm, but not hurting, tilting my face up as he crashes his mouth against mine.

The kiss is deep immediately. No hesitation, no testing the waters. The heat of our tongues tangling together out of frustration, and weeks of tightly coiled restraint snapping in half. I breathe in his air, his taste. His other hand finds my waist, dragging me closer until there isn’t even space left for doubt between us.

My back hits the brick wall behind me, but I barely feel it over the way he kisses me—like he’s trying to erase every word I was about to say, every excuse, every comparison I could throw at him.

His lips move against mine with a fierce insistence, stealing my breath, my thoughts, the last shred of my damn tipsy balance. When he finally pulls back, just enough to breathe, the look he gives me isn’t the cold, perfect mask he’s famous for.

“Don’t,” he says, voice rough and still breathless against my mouth. “Don’t ever say that.”

His thumb drags along my lower lip, slow, almost tender.

“I don’t kiss her.”

My pulse stutters. He leans in again, his forehead nearly touching mine.

“I don’t get this close with her.”

“And I don’t want her,” he murmurs. “I want you. The infuriating, impossible you.” His fingers tighten at my waist, grounding me against him so I can feel every tense edge of him as if daring me to argue with his proof.

“Tell me you still think this is about someone else,” he whispers, lips brushing mine again. “Go ahead.”

His gaze drops to my mouth, hungry, irritated, already losing patience. I can’t tell if he wants another argument… or another kiss.

Maybe both.

I don't answer fast enough, his grip tightens on my waist, our breaths heavy and impossibly close.

“Who did you wear this for?” He asks in a rough tone, the warmth of his hand sliding over to grab a fleshy handful.

I scoff lightly at him. His brows raises down at me, a soft sound leaving my lips as his hand smooths over the curve of my ass.

“For myself.” I roll my eyes at him, answering him, trying to keep a leveled mind, but the way he’s pressed against me feels all consuming. “This is nothing compared to what I used to wear before the academy.”

“Hm.” He takes a step back, smoothing back his hair. “Is that so?”

I give him a look of surprise, wondering why he suddenly stopped what we were doing. The loss of his heat, sudden and disappointing.

Caleb tilts his head at me while lighting up a cigarette, looking more devastatingly gorgeous in this back alley by the second.

“Don’t look at me like that, Y/N…—I won’t fuck you against a brick wall when anyone could stumble over here. I have more respect for you than that.”

His words hit harder than I expect… a wave of seeking warmth flowing low in my body as I picture his words in my mind—and then somemthing else.

Respect?

From him….?

It almost makes me laugh.

Almost.

I narrow my eyes instead, arms crossing as he exhales smoke into the cold, his violet stare dragging over me like he’s dissecting every stupid thought in my head.

“So that’s it?” I ask, chin lifting. “You kiss me like that and now you’re acting like you’re doing me a favor by stopping?”

A low rumble leaves his chest, part irritation, part amusement. “I stopped,” he says, tapping ash onto the pavement, “because I don’t want the first time I touch you like that to be something you pretend meant nothing.”

“I wouldn’t pretend,” I shoot back, heat curling through my slightly slurred words. “You’re not that forgettable.”

He steps toward me again, slowly but deliberate, until cigarette smoke curls between us.

“You really don’t know when to shut up,” he murmurs.

“Make me,” I fire back.

His eyes flare, with just a breath of hesitation, and then he cages me in with a hand beside my head, expression hard enough to bruise.

“… ‘have no idea,” he says, voice low, “how difficult it is not to put you over my shoulder right now, and continue what we were doing inside of the car I drove here.”

“I’m not stopping you.”

He huffs a sharp breath, almost a laugh, almost a curse, like I’m the last thing he needed tonight and exactly what he wanted.

“I swear to God…” he groans out the words, leaning in so close his lips brush my cheek but never settle. “You push and push, and you don’t even see what you’re doing.”

“Oh, I see it just fine,” I counter softly.

His fingers skim my hip, barely there, maddening and sending heat flooding through me again. He drags in a breath like he’s fighting himself, then forces the space between us.

“You think I stopped because I don’t want you?” His voice is tight. “I stopped because if I keep going, you’re not walking back inside that bar.”

I swallow back hard.

“And you’re drunk enough to let me,” He finishes, quieter, angrier. “That’s the problem.”

“Caleb—”

“No.” He shuts his eyes for a second, like he needs the darkness to steady himself. “You’re not going to wake up tomorrow and blame me for doing something you wouldn’t have done sober.”

My stomach twists, annoyed, flattered, frustrated, wanting. “I’m not that drunk,” I answer truthfully.

He searches my face, really looks, like he’s checking whether I believe my own words.

“You think that,” he murmurs. “But you obviously don’t know yourself as well as you think you do.”

My brows knit. “… and you don’t know me at all.”

He raises a brow at me.

“Oh, I know enough,” he says, stepping closer again. “I know you like pushing people until they snap. I know you’re reckless on purpose. I know you like attention you pretend you don’t want.”

My pulse spikes.

“And I know,” he adds, voice dropping to a dangerous whisper, “that you didn’t dress like this for Gideon.”

I scoff. “You’re so sure of that?”

His eyes drag over me, slow, hungry, and somehow irritated.

“Yeah,” he says. “I have a pretty good track record being correct about you.”

He stubs out the cigarette against the wall, flicking it away without breaking eye contact.

“Go inside,” he says, quieter but no less intense. “Say goodbye to your friend. Tell him not to worry. Get some water on the way out.”

“Then I’ll take you back.”

“You’re escorting me now?” I tease, even though alarms sound in my head. The way his words sound like I don’t have a choice in the matter, puts a sour taste in my mouth.

“No.” His gaze drops to my mouth again, and the world narrows to the space between us. “I’m making sure no one else puts their hands on you tonight.”

He reaches out in an hesitant, almost gentle way and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. His thumb grazes my blushed cheekbone, barely a touch, but enough to send heat all the way down my spine.

“When you want me for real,” he murmurs, breath ghosting against my lips, “you’re going to tell me.”

“And when you do,” he adds, stepping back slowly, “you’re not going to be balancing yourself out against a brick wall—like you’re doing right now.”

The silence between us lingers like smoke even after he steps back, leaving just enough space for me to breathe again.

To think.

And thinking hurts.

Because I know better.

Whatever he’s said out here—

the “I want yous’,”

the “not her,”

the “come to me sober”—

all of it tasted too sweet, way too careful, and too perfectly carved to be real. Pretty words from a man who looked at a mimic the first time he saw me.

Someone who wasn’t me.

Did he think of her while his lips were on mine?

My chest tightens, but I make sure it doesn’t reach my face. I’ve spent too many years perfecting that part—letting the storm happen behind my ribs while my expression stays bored, unimpressed, untouchable in the face of suspicion.

He thinks he saw vulnerability tonight.

And he did..—for a moment.

He saw liquor and opportunity.

He saw what he wanted to see.

And maybe… maybe that’s fine.

Maybe I can use that.

Maybe being second place is something I’ve gotten good at—

My father trained me well in that regard.

My eyes flicker to the imprint of the necklace pressing beneath his shirt, confirming my doubts.

Never enough. Never the first choice. Never the one who shines without someone else’s shadow swallowing her whole. So if Caleb wants to mistake me for some echo of the girl he actually loves back home?

Let him.

Fine.

I’ll take whatever warmth he throws my way and mold it into something useful. Perhaps, a weapon? A softness that will drag him in deeper, closer, until he’s the one who can’t breathe without me hovering somewhere nearby.

If all I get is scraps from the golden boy of Skyhaven, then I’ll take them with a smile.

And make him choke on it later.

I push off the wall, straightening the straps of my silk camisole with steady hands—even though my pulse feels like it’s thrashing against its cage.

“Okay,” I say lightly, as if no part of me is trembling. “I’ll go back inside.”

His eyes narrow a little, like he can sense something shifting under the surface, but not enough to understand it. Good.

he nods, slow and controlled. “I’ll pull the car around.”

“Of course you will,” I murmur, brushing past him.

His fingers twitch like he wants to catch my wrist, stop me, do something, but he doesn’t. And that tells me everything—he’s still holding back.

Probably still imagining her.

And if he wants to keep confusing me with her?

Then I’ll weaponize every bit of it.

The drinks humming warmly in my bloodstream make it easy to paint myself in soft, blushed vulnerability, the kind that makes men think they’re needed.

Wanted.

Trusted.

He’ll think I’m shaken by his sweet words.

That I’m clinging to him.

He’ll think he’s the one with the upper hand. And I’ll let myself smile, pretty and smooth—because honestly? He has no idea what he’s gotten himself into.

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Part two is finally here!! 💗💗💗