Page 107 of Shattered Obsession

Xander doesn’t falter. He doesn’t even seem to feel the pain, not the blood slicking his arm, not the bruises forming across his ribs. His focus is razor-sharp, murderous.

But the second his eyes flick toward me, something inside him fractures. The rage is still there, but underneath it is something rawer. Something that looks like fear.

I know that look. I’ve worn it.

His gaze drags down the length of the chains, to the bruises blooming on my wrists, to the way my chest heaves unevenly as I fight against my own panic. He inhales sharply like the sight physically hits him.

His voice breaks, just a crack, when he says my name.

“Thalia…”

Damian takes advantage of the distraction, slamming his shoulder into Xander’s stomach. But instead of stumbling, Xander becomes something feral. He launches forward with a snarl that isn’t human.

I’ve never seen someone fight like they were born for violence, but Xander doesn’t move like he’s trying to win.

He moves like he’s trying to destroy.

He drives his shoulder into Damian’s gut, slamming him against the pillar I’m chained to. The impact rattles my bones. Damian snarls, spitting blood and laughter in the same breath.

“You think she’s yours?” he taunts, voice thick. “She’ll always remember me first.”

The words cut deeper than the blade ever could. My body jerks against the cuffs, metal tearing at my skin. My pulse is screaming. Xander’s head whips toward me for half a second, but it’s just enough for Damian to seize it, ramming his knee into Xander’s stomach and wrenching free.

The gun. I see it before Xander does, the black grip glinting at Damian’s back. He reaches for it, and my blood goes cold.

“Xander!” I scream, every inch of me straining against steel. Xander turns, eyes wild, and he lunges. His hand closes around Damian’s wrist. The shot never comes. Instead, the sound is bone crunching under pressure, followed by Damian howling as the pistol clatters across the floor. It skids toward me. My heart stutters. I kick forward, chains dragging me back, but my toes brush cold metal. I hook my foot around it, dragging it closer until it’s mine. Every nerve in my body burns.

My skin splits where the handcuffs rub, and yet, I barely feel the pain.

My mind has tunneled into something singular, focused, sharp.

I remember reading once that right before an animal chooses to attack, everything slows down.

Vision narrows.

Breathing deepens.

I understand it now.

My heartbeat becomes the only noise I can hear, steady, heavy, relentless.

The weight of the gun is grounding.

Like holding a spine.

I don’t care that my hands shake.

Shaking means I’m still human.

Fear means I survived.

He looks at me like I’m prey—he always has—but prey doesn’t pick up the weapon.

“Thalia, don’t!” Xander shouts, seeing me. But I already have it. The gun is heavy, more than I expected, and my hands shake around the grip. Damian sees too. He laughs, low and broken, blood running down his chin.

“Look at her. She couldn’t pull that trigger if her life depended on it.”

Maybe I can’t. My pulse hammers violently against my ribs. The gun feels alien, cold, heavy, designed for hands that make choices without consequence.