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CHAPTERFIVE
Blaze
The flickering glowof the computer screen bathes my room in a pale blue hue, casting long shadows across the walls. My fingers tap rhythmically on the keyboard, a soft staccato that fills the silence. I'm a moth to the digital flame—scrolling, always scrolling.
My feed updates and there she is—Nova Sinclair, the girl who haunts my every waking thought.
I go completely still, my heart dropping as the image hijacks my attention.
She's sitting at a table, laughter captured in the curve of her lips, eyes sparkling like the moonlit ocean. She's with a guy, some random fucking dude with a smile too wide and hands too close to her sun-kissed skin. They're sharing a joke, a moment, a slice of reality that'smine. Or should be.
Jealousy sears through me like wildfire, an inferno that licks at the edges of my self-control. It's not just envy—it's possession, primal and fierce. My heart, once thrumming a steady beat, now sinks into the abyss of my chest, heavy and aching.
My gaze doesn't waver from the picture, fromher. Nova—myNova. Her blonde hair cascades over her shoulders, those delicate tattoos peeking out from under her sleeve, each one a secret I've yet to explore. She's supposed to be untouchable,pure, not sitting across from some schmuck who thinks he's got a shot.
And what the actual fuck? I thought we were on the same page. I know I didn't imagine the way she looked at me. The way she let me touch her.
Fuck, does she think me pulling back from her and not taking her that night means I don't want her.
I curse and kick myself in the ass. I'm such a fucking idiot! I should have claimed her when I had the chance. Now, she could slip right through my fingers.
Idiot! Idiot! Idiot!
I can feel it, the darkness wrapping its tendrils around my heart, squeezing tighter with every breath. Desire, need, obsession—they blend into a potent cocktail that courses through my veins, intoxicating and dangerous.
"Looks cozy," I murmur to myself, the words dripping with venom.
Fingers still tapping, I zoom in on the photo, scrutinizing every detail—the way her body tilts ever so slightly toward him, the intimacy of their shared space, the way his hand hovers near hers. It's all wrong. He's invadingmyterritory, tainting something sacred.
"Should be me," I whisper, the declaration a growl that rumbles deep within my chest.
Inside, the conflict wages war—protect her, claim her, save her. But from what? From him? From herself? No, from the loneliness that claws at her when the camera clicks off and the world turns a blind eye. I won't let that happen. I can't.
"Fuck, this isn't happening," I say to the empty room, the sound hollow and desperate.
My head screams for me to look away, but my heart, oh my treacherous heart, it's already entangled in the web of her existence. A part of me knows it’s twisted, dark as the midnight sky, but it's too late. I'm consumed, body and soul, by the enigma that is Nova Sinclair.
The room feels colder, the air thicker. Every inch of me wants to reach through the screen, pull her away from the farce of a date, and into my arms where she belongs. But I don't. I can't. Instead, I sit here, a silent guardian of pixels and unspoken vows, watching, waiting, wanting. Always wanting.
The image on the screen blurs as my pulse throbs in my ears—Nova, laughing with him, touching his hand. My fingers clench into fists, nails digging crescents into my palms. She's out there, possibly in danger, definitely unaware of how much I need to protect her.
"Can't let this go," I mutter, the edge of obsession sharpening my voice to a whisper.
I rise from the chair, the motion all jagged edges and coiled tension, like a serpent preparing to strike. My mind races, calculating and analyzing, crafting a plan with cold precision. Nova's favorite spots, the likely routes she'll take... I know them all.
"Safe... she needs to be safe," I chant under my breath as I pick up my phone, tapping into the little digital tether that'll lead me straight to her. It's for her own good. It has to be.
"Monitoring isn't enough," I growl, scrolling through maps, surveillance feeds, real-time traffic updates. A mosaic of data streams before my eyes—a cybernetic oracle revealing the paths of gods and mortals alike.
Yes, I put a tracker on her phone. Should I feel ashamed? Probably. Do I? Definitely fucking not.Thisright here proves why I needed to do this. Because Nova is definitely too fragile to know what's for her own good.
"Third Street... corner table by the window," I muse aloud, pinpointing the location. "Perfect view from the bookstore across the street. Second floor, travel section. Nobody ever goes there."
I grab my keys, my jacket, a cap—it's not about hiding, it's about blending in. Being there without being there. A ghost in her peripheral vision, a guardian angel cloaked in shadows and silence.
"Stay cool, Blaze. Just keep an eye on things," I coach myself, rehearsing the mantra of a protector, banishing the whispers of the stalker that skulks at the fringes of my consciousness.
The night air bites at my skin as I step outside, the city's heartbeat syncing with mine in a dark symphony. Each step towards her is a step into the abyss, but I can't resist the pull. The gravity of her presence is a force of nature, and I am but a leaf caught in the gale.
