The First Prophecy

Chapter 5

The shower glass was already fogged when Damien pushed me inside. Steam rose thick around us, heavy and suffocating. Water hit my back hot enough to sting, but I barely registered the burn. He didn’t give me time to think. Just crowded me against the cold tiles, one hand wrapping around my throat, the other sliding down my stomach with possessive intent.

“You signed the contract,” he growled, fingers pressing just enough to remind me who was in control. “Every inch of you belongs to me tonight.”

I jerked my hips forward. Defiance still burning hot in my chest even as my body betrayed me and hardened against his thigh. “Fuck you.”

“That’s the plan.” He bit down on my shoulder, sucking hard enough to leave a mark that would linger for days. “Beg.”

I laughed, the sound choked and broken. “Make me.”

We moved together like we were trying to destroy each other and save each other at the same time. Rough. Desperate. No gentleness, no mercy. His hands took me apart with ruthless precision—mouth, fingers, the kind of pressure that made my knees threaten to buckle. I cursed him between gasps, half-broken pleas slipping out that I hated myself for letting escape.

When release finally crashed over us, it came hard and violent. Water cascading, skin slapping tiles, my back arching as his grip tightened. For one blinding, perfect second, everything felt too good to be real.

Then the vision slammed into me.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t a flicker. It hit like a freight train.

Blood. Riven standing over me. Gun steady in his hand. His eyes were cold, resigned, almost regretful as he whispered, “For my father.”

I jerked back so violently I nearly lost my balance. Chest heaving. The image kept flashing behind my eyes, overlapping with the real world like a glitch I couldn’t shut off. The room tilted. For a terrifying moment I couldn’t tell what was real and what was the vision. My hands were still on Riven but they felt numb. Detached. Like they belonged to someone else.

Riven froze beneath me, water streaming down his face. “What the hell was that?”

I stared down at him. Naked. Flushed. Still hard. Still dangerous. My voice came out ragged, barely recognizable. “You’re going to kill me.”

I watched the confusion flicker across his face, then the slow dawn of understanding. “What?”

“I saw it,” I said, pressing a hand to my temple as if that could stop the echo. My voice cracked. “While I was inside you. You were standing over me. Gun in your hand. Whispering ‘For my father.’”

The words hung in the steam-filled air. Riven’s eyes widened. Shock. Then something darker, heavier. “You… saw it? While you were inside me?”

I shoved off him completely, sitting on the edge of the shower bench. My hands were shaking. The vision still echoed behind my eyes—blood, the gun, his voice saying my death like a promise I couldn’t unhear. I couldn’t look at him without seeing it. Couldn’t breathe without tasting metal.

Silence stretched. Thick. Ugly. The only sounds were the water still running and our ragged breathing.

“Get out of my sight,” I said finally, my voice hoarse. “Before I change my mind and end this now.”

He didn’t move. Still lying there against the tiles, chest rising fast. “What if I don’t want to anymore?”

The words hit harder than the vision itself. I looked back at him. At the man I was supposed to break. At the man fate kept showing me as my killer.

My voice came out broken, almost unrecognizable. “Then we’re both already dead.”

The water kept falling between us. Neither of us moved to turn it off. The contract felt heavier than ever. The visions weren’t just my problem anymore. They were ours.

And I had no idea which one of us was going to break first.