The Wisteria Accond

Chapter Fifteen

The door clicks shut behind us, and the room closes in like a trap. My skin still crawls from everything that happened with Ashen, my nerves frayed, my thoughts scattered. I can't think straight. I just need to get away from this room, away from the blood and the tension, away from the horrible things I've seen and done today.

"Kiera." Soren's voice pulls me back, but my gaze remains fixed on the floor. "Are you okay?" he asks again, his tone edging toward impatience when I don't respond. "Kiera, look at me."

Before I can react, his fingers are under my chin, lifting my face to meet his eyes. The touch is unexpected, almost too intimate, and I jerk back reflexively, putting a step between us.

"I'm fine," I say, sharper than I intend, trying to keep my voice steady, though it trembles at the edges. My heart is still pounding, but not from fear for Ashen—from the unease radiating from Soren. He takes a step closer, his eyes searching my face as if looking for something hidden beneath the surface.

"I just need a minute," I mutter, rubbing my arm. "Can we not do this right now?"

He doesn't listen. His hand brushes my shoulder as if checking for injuries, his touch lingering too long, too close. "You're not hurt, are you?" His voice drops, softer, almost tender, but there's an edge of something else there—something I can't quite place. "I don't like seeing you in danger like that, Kiera. I don't want to see you hurt."

I swat his hand away, frustration boiling up inside me. "I said I'm fine, Soren," I repeat, more firmly this time. My pulse is still racing, but now it's for a different reason. There's a strange intensity in his eyes that makes me uneasy. A heavy silence stretches between us.

For a moment, he says nothing, just stands there, his expression unreadable. Then he takes a breath, and I see a shift in his eyes—a determination I've seen in him before, but never quite like this.

"Kiera," he starts, his voice low and serious, "I've been meaning to tell you something. I've been thinking about it for a long time, and I need you to hear me out."

I can already sense where this is going, and dread coils in my stomach. "Soren, please—"

"No, listen," he insists, stepping closer, his tone becoming more forceful. "We've known each other since we were three years old. No one knows you like I do. I've always been there for you, haven't I? Always protected you."

My skin prickles with discomfort. "Soren, stop," I try again, but he cuts me off, moving even closer until I can feel the heat of him, the intensity rolling off him in waves.

"You should be with me, Kiera," he continues, his voice dropping even lower. "No one else will ever care about you like I do. I've made sure no one would ask you out, that no one would ever think of getting close to you because you're mine. I've already claimed you."

My blood runs cold. I've never heard him talk like this, and it sends a chill of fear down my spine. I try to step back, but he grabs my wrist, holding me in place. "You can't mean that," I say, forcing my voice to stay calm. "This isn't you, Soren."

But his grip tightens, his gaze locking onto mine with an intensity that makes my stomach twist. "I do mean it," he says, almost pleading. "I've waited long enough. We belong together. Why can't you see that?"

He leans in, his breath hot against my skin, and I realize with a jolt of panic what he's about to do. My heart lurches in my chest as I twist away, trying to break free. "Soren, stop!"

But he doesn't. His hands grip my shoulders, and I feel his weight pressing closer, his breath on my cheek. "Just let me—"

Before he can finish, the door bursts open, and a voice cuts through the tension like a knife. "Kiera? Soren?"