Page 29 of Seeking Shadows

“Yeah.” I manage to get the word out, but it sounds hollow, even to me.

“Mia—”

“Love you guys, bye!” I hang up before they can keep interrogating me.

A voice cuts through the silence.

“You’re a terrible liar.”

I turn my head to see Zane leaning against the doorway. He’s been watching me this whole time.

I stretch lazily, rolling onto my back. “I disagree. I think I’m agreatliar, actually.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Violent pigeons?”

“That was the first thing that came to mind,” I mutter.

Zane walks over, his presence drawing all the air from the room. I stare at him in confusion as he sits down next to me, his body just inches from mine. He leans in, his face dangerously close to mine, his voice a low growl. "We were fucking, huh?"

God, he heard that too. My stomach twists with the sudden wave of heat that rushes up my neck, my skin flushing with the memory. I should’ve been more careful. I don’t even know if I want to admit it. I can’t, but I don’t have a choice.

"That's what married people do," I reply, forcing my voice steady, though every word feels like it’s burning me from the inside.

"Really?" His voice drops lower, smoother, velvet against my ear. "Do they fuck hard?

My breath catches, the question hitting me in places I didn’t know could still ache. "It depends," I murmur, my own voice betraying me. "If it's make-up sex."

"And if they like it that way," he presses closer, his body brushing against mine, and it’s like my skin is set on fire, every part of me aching to close the distance, to feel him the way I used to. My body is screaming for it, screaming for him, but I fight the urge.

"There's that too," I manage, barely above a whisper. But his touch, his closeness, it’s like an electric current running through me, making me tremble with the weight of everything unsaid. And then—he pulls away.

His eyes are cold, filled with something raw, something I can’t place. “You're right. You're a good liar when you want to be. You managed to lie your way into my heart and then tear it apart like it meant nothing to you.” The words hit me like a slap, but there’s something else, something hot that pulses beneath them, curling around my chest and tightening with every breath.

My throat tightens, but I don’t back down. "And yet you're unable to leave me alone."

He smirks, but it’s not the kind of smile that comforts. It’s dangerous, almost like a promise. "Because I’m hell, Mia. And you’re going to live in it with me until the end."

I want to say that he doesn’t feel like hell, that being here with him is the only thing that makes me feel real. But the words catch in my throat, trapped by the weight of everything between us.

I decided to just leave and focus my energy on something else.

Zane exhales, then pushes off the doorway and follows me downstairs. He disappears for a moment, and when he returns, he’s carrying a plate—moving with that same easy, predatory grace.

My eyes track his every step.

Olga isn’t here today, which is weird—she’s always here.

“I made waffles,” Zane says, placing a plate on the table. “Eat.”

“That wasalmostromantic,” I tease as he uncovers the bowl.

“They’re waffles.”

“Waffles are a love language, little angel.”

He glances at me sideways, the tension shifting subtly.

Without a word, he sits on the bed beside me and scoops up a spoonful of food, holding it out expectantly.

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