After the call ended, a soft beep echoed in the silent room. Lizzie's phone screen dimmed slowly, leaving behind nothing but her reflection in the black mirror. She stared at it for a moment longer, eyes distant, unreadable.
Her fingers gently placed the phone on the bedside drawer—like it was fragile, like it had said too much. She turned her head to the ceiling, letting her body melt into the mattress, but her mind… her mind was anything but still.
"Why are you doing this to me… Niklaus?"
The words floated like whispers inside her, echoing between memories and fears she hadn't dusted off in years.
"I don't know how to deal with this."
"I'm not used to this… warmth."
It was easier when people didn't look too closely. Easier when no one tried to reach her heart. She knew how to deal with that—silence, distance, cold smiles. But him?
Niklaus Devilson wasn't just a boy. He wasn't just charming or dangerous or persistent. He was a contradiction—Mischievous eyes with warmth underneath, teasing words hiding sincerity. He laughed like he didn't care, but he looked at her like she was the only thing that mattered.
And that terrified her more than anything.
She scoffed, turning to her side.
"This is just a game to you, isn't it?"
"You'll get bored… everyone does eventually. Just like he did."
Her thoughts darkened, memory twisting the knife deeper—of a man in a suit, walking out of the house with a cold goodbye and never turning back. Her father's absence still lingered in the corners of every warm moment, reminding her that affection never stayed. That love left.
"You'll leave too… And when you do, I'll be the one left behind again. Picking up pieces of something I never even asked for."
Her throat tightened. But even as the doubt screamed in her head, her fingers brushed the edge of the drawer where the bracelet now lay, hidden from sight—but not from memory.
That stupid bracelet.That beautiful, thoughtful, ridiculous bracelet.
"You're too much, Devilson. Why now? Why me?"
She rolled to her back again, hand resting on her stomach as her chest rose and fell unevenly. Her eyes, stormy and uncertain, locked back on the ceiling like it held answers to questions she was too afraid to ask aloud.
"I won't let myself fall. I won't. I can't."
"This… attraction—it's temporary. A phase. You'll find someone prettier, easier. Someone who doesn't have walls made of iron and barbed wire."
"I won't be fooled."
But deep, deep inside her chest… something small and fragile was already betraying her. A flicker. A flutter. A warmth.
She squeezed her eyes shut, forcing the rising tide of feelings down.
"I won't be swayed. I won't fall for this... illusion."
But what Elizabeth didn't know... was that she wasn't being hunted by an ordinary boy.
Niklaus Devilson was a missile—heat-seeking, relentless, and devastating. When he wanted something, nothing stood in his way. Not logic. Not silence. Not even the iron bars around a fragile heart.
And right now, all his sensors were locked onto her.
He didn't want just a smile. Or a kiss. Or a moment.
He wanted her entire heart.
Every last shattered piece.
So while she lay in bed, fortifying her walls... he was out there, sharpening the tools to break them.
Because love wasn't always soft and gentle.
Sometimes... love was war.
Somewhere in the City – Inside a Dark Pub
The air was thick with smoke and low music. In the corner booth of a dimly lit pub not far from the university, four boys sat nursing half-empty drinks—three laughing over some inside joke, and one sitting stiff, focused, silent.
Jack Walter leaned forward, eyes darting to the man across from him.
"He's a transfer. Name's Niklaus Devilson. Real smooth type. Been hovering around Elizabeth lately. Got half the girls swooning… even her." His voice dropped at the last part.
The others went quiet.
The man in his twenties, face partially shadowed by the brim of his cap, didn't react at first. Then, slowly, he lifted his eyes—cold, unreadable.
"…Devilson?"
Jack hesitated. "You want me to keep an eye on him?"
The man leaned back, voice low but clear. "No. I want everything. Family. Records. Connections. I want to know what he ate for breakfast ten years ago."
Jack blinked. "…Understood."
A faint smirk touched the stranger's lips, chilling more than charming.
He picked up his drink, the ice clinking softly.
"Let's see what this Devilson boy is really made of."