Page 10

Lark

T he fire was dying.

But the heat between us? It was burning brighter than ever.

Axel stood in front of me, chest rising and falling like he’d just walked off a battlefield. I could feel his body, his restraint, the storm of control he was barely keeping in check.

Too much control.

“I know you’re trying to be honorable,” I said quietly, locking eyes with him. “But I’m not looking for a knight right now. I’m looking for someone real.”

His jaw flexed.

“You think I’m not real?”

“I think you’re trying not to feel something that’s already happening.”

He didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

So I did.

I stepped in—just enough for my fingers to brush the edge of his shirt. “Let me in, Axel.”

That was all it took. He snapped.

One hand slid behind my neck, the other at my waist, and then he kissed me. Not soft. Not tentative. But with weeks of tension and heat and need poured into one breath-stealing moment.

I melted into it, clinging to his shirt, pressing against him like he was the only solid thing in the world.

His lips were rough. Hungry. Like he’d wanted this for so long he didn’t know how to slow it down.

And I didn’t want him to.

I kissed him back with everything I had. Every lonely night. Every second of fear. Every heartbeat I hadn’t realized was waiting for his.

And just like that, the world vanished.

No stalker.

No trailer.

No storms.

Just Axel.

We sat on the couch, not saying much. The weight of that kiss still sat heavy between us—crackling and tender, like a secret we weren’t ready to speak out loud.

Then Axel’s phone buzzed.

He glanced down.

Steel.

Cooper: You need to see this.

Cooper: Trailer footage enhanced. We got a clear frame of the guy’s hands.

Cooper: He’s wearing tactical gloves. Military issue. Special Forces. Possibly ex-SEAL.

Axel’s face went pale. Like someone had flipped a switch.

“What is it?” I asked, sitting up straighter.

He looked at me—and the ice in his eyes scared me more than the storm ever had.

“This isn’t just some creep with a camera, Lark. He’s trained. He knew how to cut the camera feed, what gear to target. He’s not just watching—he’s playing a game. Leaving signs. Symbols. Taunts.”

I felt the chill crawl down my spine.

“So… he’s not after me because I chase storms.”

“No,” Axel said, his voice hard. “He’s after you because you got in his way. He’s hunting something—and now, that includes you.”

I swallowed. “So what do we do?”

He stood, something shifting in his posture—like the soldier in him had just taken over.

“We stop running,” he said. “We start hunting him back.”