Into The Abyss

Night descended once more, wrapping the city in its familiar shroud of indifference. Ivy lay awake, staring at the ceiling, listening to the soft hum of the traffic outside. Dorian had stayed until late, trying to lift her spirits with stories, jokes, anything to drag her from whatever dark place she was sinking into. But nothing could dispel the weight that pressed down on her chest.

Lorne.

His presence gnawed at the edges of her mind, constant, relentless. She hadn’t seen him again since last night—no shadowed figure lurking on the streets below, no low, whispered voice calling her name—but the sensation of him lingered like a stain on her soul. And the worst part was that some part of her—some deeply buried, traitorous part—wanted him to come back.

Ivy closed her eyes, willing herself to sleep, but every time she drifted close to unconsciousness, she was jerked awake by the memory of Lorne’s touch, his eyes, the way his voice had wrapped around her like a silken noose.

A noise.

Ivy bolted upright, her heart hammering in her chest. It was faint, barely perceptible, but unmistakable—the creak of floorboards in the living room. Someone was in her apartment.

She swung her legs out of bed, her pulse racing, every instinct screaming at her to run. But where could she go? This was her place, her sanctuary, and now, it felt like she was trapped inside a cage with a predator.

With trembling hands, she grabbed the small knife she kept on her bedside table. It wasn’t much, but it made her feel slightly less powerless. She crept toward the door, her bare feet making no sound on the cold wooden floor.

She pressed her ear against the door, holding her breath. Silence. The kind of silence that felt too deliberate, too intentional.

Slowly, she turned the knob and pushed the door open, the darkness of the hallway swallowing her as she stepped into it. The living room stretched out ahead of her, cast in long shadows by the faint glow of the streetlights outside.

And there he was.

Lorne.

He stood in the center of the room, his back to her, hands casually in his pockets as if he’d simply strolled in like he belonged there. His presence was so overwhelming that Ivy had to fight the urge to back away, to hide. But this was her home. She couldn’t let him take that from her, too.

“What the hell are you doing here?” she demanded, her voice shaking despite her attempt at sounding brave.

Lorne turned slowly, his eyes locking onto hers with that same dark intensity that made her skin prickle. The corners of his mouth lifted in a half-smile, but there was no humor in it. Only hunger.

“Ivy,” he said softly, as if her name were a prayer he’d been waiting to say for centuries. “I told you. I’ll always find you.”

Her grip tightened on the knife, but she knew deep down it was useless. Whatever Lorne was—human or something else—she could feel the power radiating off him, and it terrified her.

“You can’t just break into my home,” she snapped, forcing herself to take a step closer, despite the fear curling in her gut. “This isn’t a game.”

Lorne’s smile faded, and his expression grew serious, his eyes darkening like a storm rolling in. “You don’t understand yet, but you will. You can’t fight what’s already been decided.”

Ivy’s hands were trembling now, the knife shaking in her grip. “Decided? What are you talking about?”

Lorne stepped closer, slow and deliberate, like a predator closing in on its prey. His presence seemed to fill the room, making it hard for her to breathe. “We’re connected, Ivy. Our fates are entwined. I’ve been searching for you for a long time.”

Her mind raced, trying to make sense of his words, but none of it fit. None of it made any sense. She wanted to scream at him, to tell him to leave, to beg him to stop whatever this was, but the words died in her throat as he came closer, until he was standing just inches away.

The heat of his body pressed against her, and Ivy’s breath hitched, her heart hammering wildly in her chest. He reached out, his fingers brushing against her cheek, and she flinched, but didn’t pull away.

“You feel it, don’t you?” Lorne whispered, his voice like velvet, soft and dark. “The pull. You can’t deny it.”

Ivy’s lips parted, but no words came out. She did feel it. That strange, magnetic pull that had drawn her to him from the moment they’d locked eyes. It was wrong. It was terrifying. But it was undeniable.

His hand slid down to her neck, his fingers curling lightly around her throat, not squeezing, just holding. “You’re mine, Ivy,” he murmured, his breath warm against her skin. “You’ve always been mine.”

A shiver ran down her spine, and despite every instinct screaming at her to run, to fight, to do something, she found herself leaning into his touch. The knife slipped from her fingers, clattering to the floor, forgotten.

Lorne’s lips brushed against her ear, sending a wave of heat flooding through her. “Say it,” he whispered. “Say you’re mine.”

Ivy’s mind was a whirlwind of confusion and desire, fear and need. She wanted to resist, to scream at him to stop, but the words that came out were a broken whisper.

“I’m yours.”

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***