FORBIDDEN CHAOS

"His hands used to set me on fire. Now they cage me in a heat I can't escape."

The apartment was too quiet; quiet in a way that felt planned. Outside, dawn pressed gray light against the curtains. Chris Marvin's scent still clung to the sheets: amber, smoke, and control.

Bella lay still, listening for a sound that might explain why her chest hurt more than her heart.

Nothing. Only the hum of the city below, soft and distant, as if the world had turned its face away.

A faint rustle in the hallway stirred her. Her stomach tightened-not with fear, but with something that made her pulse stumble. The sound of footsteps was too soft to be accidental.

She swung her legs off the bed, bare feet brushing the cold floor. The air felt heavy; even the silence had weight. In the cracked mirror, her reflection told her what words couldn't: pale skin, wide eyes, lips pressed thin. She wasn't the girl she'd once been. She was leaner. Sharper. Burning with a fire no one could see.

Her fingers twitched, aching to touch something familiar-something safe. But the only thing she could reach was the tremor in her own hands.

The first time she met him had been chaos. Second year of college. Books slipping from her arms. His fingers brushed hers before she could catch them. Those eyes-dark, magnetic-hadn't asked; they'd claimed.

"Sorry," he'd muttered, voice rough in a way that made her want to hear it again. She had walked away that day. But forgetting him had never been an option.

For four years, they had been the couple everyone envied. Laughter spilling through lecture halls. Kisses that tasted like promises-and sin. Nights when his lips lingered on her skin until her breath broke into shudders.

She remembered his cologne blending with the scent of her shampoo. His fingers curling in her hair during class. His eyes finding hers whenever she teased him across the library's silence.

But somewhere along the line, that warmth turned to shadow. Now, when she thought of him, her skin remembered more than her heart did.

She traced the sheet where he had slept. The ghost of his touch still lingered-possessive, claiming, yet tender enough to break her.

The memory of last night cut sharper. He had pressed her into the mattress without a word.

His mouth finding hers, his hands moving with the certainty of a man marking territory. Her pulse raced. It wasn't fear, but something dangerous thrumming through her veins.

"Bella..." He had murmured against her skin, breath heavy, voice low. "You're mine."

It hadn't sounded like a promise. It had sounded like a warning.

She'd pulled away then, breath ragged, heart pounding. But she'd felt it too-the pull, the hunger that had bound them since the beginning.

Now that hunger was both her curse and her anchor.

She rose, pulling the silk robe over her shoulders, toes curling against the cold floor. In the quiet, she could still