Page 24 of Shadows Within

“I always park up here when I host my late seminars. There wasn’t any parking on the main floor when I came in earlier today.”

“You shouldn’t park up here.” It’s not a suggestion.

I shrug and slowly walk toward him. He stands against a tall concrete barrier while I lean against his car, beside him. We sit in silence, but this time it’s shared and not awkward.

Callum looks down at his hands, running his fingers over his bleeding knuckles.

“Sometimes, I want to drive as fast as I can through a red light.” His voice is low and at first, I didn't realize he was talking to me. “Not because I want to die, just… to see what it feels like not to stop.”

My throat tightens and I don’t respond right away. I know that feeling. The urge to flirt with something, anything,to feel alive.

“You ever do it?” I ask.

Callum lets out a hollow, humorless laugh.

“Not yet.” He doesn’t miss a beat. “But I think about it more than I should.” Pain echoes deep in his eyes, below the surface.“Every time I push someone away, I think they’re better off. Let them hate me. Makes it easier when I finally fuck it up.” There’s tension in this pause.

“Then don’t fuck it up, Callum. Fight for what you believe in, instead of what they tell you.” He clenches his jaw.

“You shouldn’t worry about me,” he says sharply, like he’s trying to convince himself too.

“Too late.” My shoulders tense.Why did you answer, it was a hypothetical, you idiot. We hold eye contact. Something in me flickers.Maybe he’s afraid of me just as much as I’m afraid of him?

He pushes off the concrete barrier.

“I’m not someone you can fix, Scarlett.” He examines me as if he expects me to walk away, like he doesn’t know that I’m a fighter.

“Good. Because I’m not here to fix you.” He softly smiles, as if the answer surprises him but he doesn’t want to show it. It settles something in me.

I don’t wait for a response. Instead, I leave him standing there with those final words. I can feel his eyes on me as I walk toward my car on the other side of the lot, but I don’t hear him move. My pulse is tangled in his silence. When I’m almost at the car, I hear his quiet exhale, slow and controlled.

He doesn’t try and stop me, but he doesn’t leave either—maybe that means something.

Maybe broken doesn’t mean dangerous, maybe it just makes him human.

My chest no longer feels heavy. And for the first time in a long time, I’m not walking away to protect myself— I’m just walking away to breathe.

The Bomb

Callum

I sit at the dining room table, staring at the decanter of whiskey that I haven’t touched. The house is too clean and too silent, like it’s staged for someone else’s life. Father walks into the room like he doesn’t just own the house, but he ownsmetoo.

“You’re late,” he says and straightens his cuff links. “Don’t embarrass yourself tonight. Or me.”

I don’t respond. I barely do anymore, arguments with him are a waste of time.

“Are you listening?” His voice drops, not loud but edgy. “You don’t have to like The Society. You just have to remember that you belong to it. And that means showing up, Callum.”

My jaw flexes. I want to smash something.The decanter might feel good.

Instead, I stand up to leave. “I’ll be there,” I say.

Father gives me a fake smile. “You’ll do what’s expected. You always do.”

I leave the room and the air is heavy, not from guilt, I’m used to that, but from a legacy that’s been built on lies. I walk through the house, into the garage, and open the bay that my car is in. I hear rain as the door lifts. I’m reminded of last night, in the parking garage with Scarlett. When she saw more of me than I wanted her to.

I unlock my car door and pull it open as I unbutton my suit jacket. I get into the driver’s seat—the cool leather welcomes me back. As I rev the engine and drive off, I see my family’s estate in the rear-view mirror.