Threat

Soon enough, Saera answered, "I- Since we..." She started sniffling, was she crying? No. She doesn’t deserve to feel this way, she doesn't deserve to cry after what she has done. I asked in a harsher voice, pressing further into the neck "How. Many." I demanded an answer.

"Since, she.. broke.. up."

Asha went still.

Not a muscle moved. Not a breath was taken.

Her grip on Saera didn’t waver, but something inside her twisted—something dark and seething.

Since she broke up with her?

All this time, every lingering glance, every too-coincidental appearance, every shadow in the distance—it had been Saera.

Every. Single. Night.

Asha exhaled through her nose, slow and deliberate, forcing herself not to let the raw fury show.

She pressed the blade of her nail just enough to make Saera flinch. Just enough to make her understand how badly she had fucked up.

"You mean to tell me," Asha said, voice deathly quiet, "that you've been following her? Every night. Watching her. Obsessing over her."

Saera let out a shaky breath. "I—It’s not like that—"

Asha snapped.

"Then what the fuck is it like, Saera?" she hissed, pressing harder against her throat. Saera's back hit the cold brick of the alley wall. She had nowhere to go. No excuses to run to.

Asha could hear it—her heartbeat, the frantic stammer of it beneath her skin. The fear in her pulse.

Good.

"You broke her." Asha's voice was venom now, dripping with something lethal. "And now you think you get to haunt her? That you get to slither back into her life like she owes you something?"

Saera shook her head rapidly, but Asha didn’t care. Didn’t believe her.

Because Lucille had frozen the second she saw Saera. Had shut down. Had been too afraid to speak, too afraid to move.

And this was why.

Asha leaned in, her lips ghosting past Saera’s ear.

"Tell me why I shouldn't make you disappear."

She meant it. Every syllable.

Because she could.

And no one would find her.

Saera's breath hitched, shallow and frantic, her entire body trembling beneath Asha’s grip.

"Please... please, I just wanted to see her—"

"No."

Asha’s voice was ice, sharp enough to cut through bone.

She leaned in, her breath brushing against Saera’s ear as she tightened her hold.

"You didn't want to see her," she said, low and venomous. "You wanted to feel like you were still in control of her."

Saera let out a choked noise, something between a sob and a plea. Asha could hear the fear twisting in her voice, in the way her pulse stuttered beneath her skin.

She didn’t care.

"You watched her. Every night." Asha's voice remained eerily steady. "You made sure she felt you there, didn't you? Just close enough to remind her. To make her wonder. To keep her looking over her shoulder."

Saera shook her head wildly, tears spilling down her face. "N-no! I—It wasn't like that, I swear!"

"Liar."

Asha’s grip tightened, her fingers curling like a vice around Saera’s throat—not enough to cut off air. Not yet. Just enough to let her feel it.

"You fed off that fear, didn’t you?" Asha continued, her tone almost curious. "You liked it. Knowing she was scared. Knowing she couldn’t escape you."

Saera whimpered, her hands gripping at Asha’s wrist in a desperate attempt to pry herself free. It was pathetic. Weak.

Asha leaned in further, her lips barely an inch from Saera’s ear.

"Do you know what happens to people who make her feel that way?" she whispered.

Saera’s breath hitched. She went still, every muscle in her body locking up.

Asha let the silence stretch, let the weight of the moment settle in. Let Saera realize—really, truly realize—how much danger she was in.

Then, with slow, deliberate movements, Asha loosened her grip.

Saera sagged against the wall, gasping for breath, eyes wide and rimmed with tears.

Asha tilted her head, studying her like one might study a broken thing—something useless. Something disposable.

"You’re going to walk away," Asha said finally, her voice flat. "And you're never going to look at her again."

Saera swallowed, nodding frantically. "I— I won’t, I swear—"

Asha smiled.

It wasn’t kind.