Page 50 of Thane's Demon
No shadow lingering at the edge of vision.
No invisible tether between us humming in my mind.
Just emptiness.
The realization settled over me like a weight, and I hated how much it bothered me. How muchhebothered me. I shouldn’t depend on someone I barely knew. Someone who was so clearly hiding parts of himself from me, who moved like a threat and spoke like a warning, carrying danger around him like a second skin. Someone I should run far away from. Yet here I was, sitting with my phone in my hands, wishing he was somewhere close, even if he refused to admit it.
I sighed, pressing the heel of my palm to my forehead. I was getting attached. Far too attached. And it was stupid, because nothing about him made sense. Every instinct in me should have screamed to stay away. He wasn’t safe, not in any traditional sense. He looked at me sometimes like he was afraid he might break me, and other times like he was afraid he might break the world for my sake. And I knew that wasn’t normal. I knew it was dangerous.
But I also knew what my life looked like without him in it.
A home that didn’t feel like one.
A father who only saw me when he needed something to criticize.
A future built on a path chosen for me, not by me.
A place in a university I could never have afforded without him tightening every chain around my life. I was doing everything I could to carve out something better for myself. To reach for something that felt like my own, something my mother would be proud of and would want for me. But every day I feltmyself bending under the pressure of expectations that weren’t mine.
I was at a crossroads. Between what I wanted and what I needed. Between desire and survival. Between a future built on obedience and a future built on risk.
And then there was Thane.
The impossible third option. The one who made danger feel like safety and darkness feel like warmth. The one who confused every line I had ever drawn in my heart. The one I knew I was starting to fall for.
The one I should not fall for.
I lowered my phone slowly, staring at the campus buildings ahead, knowing I had to make choices soon. Real ones, not the ones made for me. And maybe those choices would hurt. Maybe they would cost me. But for the first time in a long time, the idea of choosing something for myself didn’t feel impossible.
Even if that something was the very thing I shouldn’t want.
I released a sigh and stood, trying my best to leave my confusing thoughts there on the bench. But no matter how much I tried, I couldn’t stop thinking of him. Couldn’t switch my mind off and concentrate on the reason I was here.
At the very least, by the time my first class ended, I had convinced myself to stop checking my phone. Even though the instinct remained like an itch beneath my skin. I slipped it deeper into my bag and tried to breathe normally. Reminding myself that a single cancelled meeting meant nothing more than what it was.
People got busy.
People had lives.
People did not revolve around my afternoon schedule just because I had foolishly let myself imagine otherwise. Still, the hollow ache of disappointment lingered in the quiet places of my chest, the same way a bruise lingered long after the impact.
The campus courtyard had begun to fill after class. Students spilled across the walkways in clusters, chatting loudly about assignments and weekend plans, laughter rising above the rustle of leaves. For a moment, I allowed myself to drift with the crowd, letting their chatter carry me forward like a river current I could hide inside.
But the sensation didn’t last long.
Something prickled at the back of my neck, subtle yet unmistakable, like invisible fingers brushing the hairs at my nape. It wasn’t the same as when Thane watched me. That presence had always felt heavy but safe. This was nothing like that. This sensation crawled over my skin slowly, as if something bad was watching.
I slowed my steps and turned slightly, pretending to adjust my bag strap while letting my eyes sweep through the courtyard. People moved everywhere. Dozens of bodies. Dozens of conversations. Nothing out of place at first glance.
But then I saw him.
A man leaning against a lamppost near the far path, too still in a place where everything else moved. He wore a black jacket that didn’t match the warm weather; his posture was straight, but his face was angled down as if he were scrolling through his phone. Except he wasn’t scrolling. He wasn’t typing. He wasn’t even pretending. His thumb rested motionless against the screen, his body too controlled, too deliberate, too focused.
His eyes were not on his phone at all.
They were on me.
I tried to tell myself I was imagining it, that he could have been looking past me, watching someone behind me, waiting for a friend, a ride, or anything normal. But the moment my gaze landed on him, his eyes flicked away. Too fast, as if practiced.
