Labyrinth. The Great War Novella

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Loving him was never part of the plan.

Hating him? That was easy. Simple. Safe.

Antone waltzed into my life with that smirk, that infuriating confidence, and those amber eyes that saw far too much. He never took anything seriously-not the war, not his position, not even me. And yet, somehow, he was always exactly where he needed to be. He was reckless, exasperating, and impossible to ignore.

I told myself it didn't matter. That he didn't matter.

But then he touched me.

Not in the way a soldier shakes hands with a comrade, or an enemy locks eyes before striking. No. It was different. The first? Well that was a failed assassination attempt The second, a firm grip around my wrist when I tried to walk away. The third-well, by the third time, I was already lost.

It was terrifying.

Because I knew I couldn't have him.

I was the girl with a knife hidden in her sleeve, with secrets buried so deep they would choke me before I ever let them slip. I had no room for softness, no patience for foolish dreams. And Antone? He was a dream wrapped in a uniform.

But the problem with labyrinths is that the deeper you go, the harder it is to find your way back.

And Antone... he was waiting at every turn.

Pulling me deeper.

And I wasn't sure I wanted to escape anymore.