Page 58 of Property of Scar

His other hand still has my wrist, the grip firm but no longer forcing movement, no longer turning me, just… holding.

For a second, the fight is still there between us.

Then it isn’t.

The shift is subtle, but it hits just as hard as any impact we have traded so far. The tension doesn’t disappear—it seems to change shape.

His gaze drops.

Not far, just enough.

I feel it like a physical touch, the awareness sliding down to my mouth before lifting again, slower this time, and my pulse kicks harder.

“You going to finish it?” I ask, my voice lower now, a bit rougher around the edges, but steady enough to hide what’s sitting underneath it.

His head tilts slightly, enough to catch the light across his face, across the scar he chose to keep. “That depends,” he says quietly.

“On what?”

His grip on my wrist shifts, just enough to remind me he’s still holding me.

“On whether you want me to.” The words land between us, heavier than they should be, and for a second, I forget what the right answer is supposed to be.

Or maybe I just don’t care.

My free hand slides up, almost without permission, fingers catching lightly at the front of his shirt, anchoring myself there the way I have been all fight, but this time it isn’t about leverage.

This time it’s something else.

The space between us narrows.

My breath ghosts against his mouth, warm against something that doesn’t return it, and the contrast hits sharp enough to make my chest tighten.

He doesn’t move away.

He doesn’t move at all.

But I feel it, the shift in him, subtle but real, like something in that absolute control has edged just slightly out of alignment.

“Still think I’m distracted?” I murmur, barely a breath of sound between us.

“More than you were,” he replies, his voice just as quiet, just as close.

My lips are a fraction from his.

For a second that stretches too long, neither of us moves, the moment hanging there, balanced on the edge of a decision neither of us should make.

And then suddenly…

The door slams open.

The sound cracks through the room like a gunshot, sharp and sudden, shattering the moment clean in two. I jerk back instinctively, my grip on his shirt releasing as I put space between us, breath still uneven, pulse still racing like I’ve been running instead of standing still.

Scar steps back at the same time, the shift immediate, the distance between us snapping back into something safer.

Something colder.

The air in the room changes with it.