His smile widens, slow and cruel. "You try so hard to pretend the past doesn't exist, but you just can't help yourself, can you, adorable?"
I glare. "Fuck off, Ghost."
He leans in, his voice a dark whisper, making my skin break out in goosebumps. "You miss me.The old me. Admit it."
My breath hitches. How can he still read me so well? It’s twisted that some part of me — the sick, broken part — never lethimgo. The boy I once loved. The boy I once belonged to. The boy I betrayed.
I press my nails into my palms, trying to anchor myself. This is a game. A slow, meticulous destruction. And I won't let him win.
I pretend I’m not unraveling and force a smirk. "You were better when you didn't talk."
He chuckles, shaking his head.
"Liar."
I huff. "Is this why you came? To sit here and gloat about how you think I miss you? Because if so, I hate to break it to you, but your ego doesn't need any more inflation. And you're wrong."
His smile doesn't falter. He lets his gaze crawl beneath my skin, before he speaks again. Low. Tempting.
"Say my name." He traces a finger down my throat in a feathery trail.
I stop breathing but flick his hand away.
He leans in, his voice low, pulling at the strings of my mind like a puppet master.
"Say it, Adora," he breathes.
My throat is burning, my heart hammering against my ribs.
I can't.
I won't.
If I let it slip past my lips, then I'll have to admit that some part of me still remembers. That some part of me never forgot what we shared. The only time in my life I ever felt love. And the monster in front of me will find a way to humiliate me for that.
"Still holding on, Adora?"
I swallow. "Go fuck yourself."
The shadows in his eyes flicker, dancing, morphing into a dangerous dare.
"You keep saying that," he mutters.
Then, suddenly, he reaches forward and runs his thumb over my lower lip. Everything inside me goes still. A lost part of myself wakes in the middle of my chest and reaches for him. I shouldn’t be feeling like this, but his eyes burn into mine, his touch too light, too fucking familiar.
"Say it," he whispers.
Every muscle in my body locks up.
You want to, Adora!— my thoughts cry. And I do. I want to. Not because I'm weak or breaking. But because...Fuck it, because I see a flicker of the old him in his eyes. The one before all of the shit. Before the monster. Before the lies. And I still long for that dead part of him.
I swallow hard.
"Say my name, Adora," he whispers again. "Please."
And that 'please', said in a broken whisper, unravels me.
"Dominic."
