Beneath the Ashes

IRA

The cold air bites at my skin as I step outside, but it's nothing compared to the chill settling in my bones.

My heart is still hammering, each beat a painful reminder that I should have never come here tonight.

I should have known he'd find me.

Because that's what Ronan does.

He finds me. He breaks me. He makes me remember things I've spent years trying to forget.

I suck in a breath, forcing my hands to steady as I pull my coat tighter around me. I need to get out of here, go home, and pretend this night never happened.

But then—

"Running again, little star?"

His voice slides over me like smoke, curling around my ribs, squeezing.

I close my eyes for a brief second. Fuck.

When I turn, he's there—of course he is.

Leaning against the wall, hands in his pockets, dressed in all black like he was made for the night.

Ronan Vale has always been a warning wrapped in something too beautiful to be safe.

And right now, his dangerous beauty is focused on me.

"I'm not running," I say, lifting my chin.

He pushes off the wall, slow and deliberate. "No?"

I swallow. He's closer now, and my body betrays me like it always has—too aware, too attuned to him.

"What do you want, Ronan?"

"What I've always wanted."

His answer is immediate. A punch to the chest.

Because I know what he means.

I know what he's really saying.

"You don't get to do this," I whisper. "You don't get to waltz back into my life like you own it."

He smirks, but there's no humor in it. Only something darker.

"Funny." He takes another step, and my breath catches. "I don't recall ever leaving."

I feel trapped—not by his presence, but by the weight of his words, the truth behind them.

Because he's right.

Even after I left, even after I tried to erase him from my life, he's always been there. In my thoughts, my nightmares, my dreams.

"Go home, Ronan." My voice is softer than I want it to be.

He watches me. "Can't."

I close my eyes briefly. "Why?"

And then he does something I don't expect—he touches me.

Not a full grab, not forceful. Just his fingers, barely skimming the inside of my wrist.

But it's enough.

Enough to send heat racing through my skin. Enough to make the past crash over me like a wave.

"Because you still look at me the same way." His voice is quiet, but it wrecks me. "And I still can't breathe without you."

I yank my hand back. Because that's not fair.

Because he doesn't get to say that.

"You need to let me go." The words are shaky, but I force them out.

He tilts his head, his gaze sharp, assessing.

Then—he leans in, just enough that I swear I can feel the ghost of his breath against my lips.

"Tell me you don't still feel it."

I don't answer.

Because I can't.

And Ronan?

He knows.

RONAN

Ira thinks she can fight this.

That she can stand there with her wide, doe-brown eyes and pretend she doesn't feel it in her fucking bones.

But I see everything.

I see the way her chest rises too fast, the way her fingers tremble slightly even as she balls them into fists.

And I should let her go.

But I never fucking could.

I take a step closer, and she stays rooted to the spot.

That's all the permission I need.

"Tell me to stop."

Her breath hitches.

She doesn't.

Not when I reach up, my fingers barely tracing the side of her jaw.

Not when I dip my head, just enough to be a whisper away from her lips.

"Still mine, Ira."

She shudders.

And then—she snaps.

"You're a fucking liar, Ronan." Her voice is sharp, biting, but her hand shoves against my chest weakly. "You don't love anything but control."

The words should cut.

They don't.

Because I don't just want control.

I want her.

"And yet you're still standing here," I murmur, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face.

Her breath shudders out.

"I hate you."

A slow smirk pulls at my lips.

"That's okay, little star." I grip her chin, tilting her face up. "Hate me all you want. Just don't fucking leave me again."

Her gaze burns.

And this time?

She's the one who runs first.