Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Elena had just left for lunch when Mark stepped out of his office.

He waited exactly the amount of time necessary to be sure he wouldn’t run into her in the hallway, the elevator, or anywhere else. He needed distance to understand what was happening to himself. Above all, he needed to pull away before he lost control in broad daylight.

He was at the limit.

He recognized that with disturbing clarity. Sick, perhaps. Obsessed, without a doubt. Fascinated by Elena in a way that made no sense, that obeyed neither logic nor the rules he himself had created over the centuries.

Nothing and no one would stand between them. That certainty settled inside him like an irrevocable sentence. Especially now. Now that he knew, that she reacted to him.

He leaned against the elevator, closing his eyes for a brief moment. He could still smell her. The memory of her body responding, even without understanding, even without remembering… it consumed him.

His fingers curled into fists. He, however, remembered everything.

The way she surrendered without knowing who he was. The sound of her broken breathing. The bond hadn’t been merely physical; it had been deep and supernatural.

And she… she was walking through the city at that very moment without even imagining that she carried his invisible marks. That excited him. And enraged him.

“You are mine…” he murmured to himself, his voice low and dangerous.

Mark believed Elena was destined for him. He knew she was confused. He knew about the lapses, the shame she felt without understanding its origin. He knew about the destroyed engagement. And he would be there for her. Always.

Zacky opened his eyes, his gaze darkened by a decision that allowed no return. The control he had prized so much had shattered, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to reclaim it.

Why? Because Elena reacted to him. And that changed everything.

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Elena hurried during her lunch break, found her car in the company parking lot, and wondered how she had left it there.

She practically ran several red lights to avoid being late getting back.

Elena entered the apartment. The place smelled of sex, stale coffee, cheap male cologne, and broken promises. She tossed her bag onto the couch and went straight to the bedroom, opening the closet in a rush, pulling hangers, separating clothes without any care.

“Elena…”

She turned abruptly.

Rúbens was there. Alone, his shirt wrinkled and the same look that had once convinced her so easily.

And now? Now it only filled her with disgust.

“Leave me alone, Rúbens. I just came to get my clothes.”

“We can talk,” he took a cautious step closer. “It was a mistake, I was confused. You know how I get when I drink.”

She let out a short, humorless laugh.

“Confused enough to cheat on me in our home?” She raised her gaze, cold. “Don’t make excuses. I saw it. It won’t leave my mind.”

He tried to touch her, to grab her arm.

“I love you, Elena. Let’s start over. I promise…”

She stepped back.

“Don’t you dare touch me. You lost that right.”

Silence fell heavily between them. Rúbens ran a hand through his hair, irritated, changing his tone.

“So what are you going to do? Be alone? Do you think anyone will want you the way you are?”

The words hit her, but not in the way he expected.

Elena felt something different grow inside her. It was strength. She remembered the man she had slept with the night before, the firm arms, a gaze that made her feel seen… desired.

“I’d rather be alone,” she replied, far too calm, “than badly accompanied.”

She grabbed the suitcase, zipped it shut with a quick pull, and passed by him without looking back.

“It’s over, Rúbens.”

She left the apartment, walking quickly back to her car. As soon as she reached the main street, she was nervous, her head full and her heart racing. Distracted by her own thoughts, she slammed on the brakes when a shadow appeared in front of her. The tires screeched on the asphalt, and the car stopped just inches from a man crossing in a run, without even looking both ways.

Elena pressed a hand to her chest, shaken, feeling her heart almost leap out of her throat.

“My God…”

The man turned furiously, walked up to the hood, and slapped it with his open hand.

“Are you blind, you crazy woman?!” he shouted, unleashing a string of insults that made her shrink into the seat.

She cracked the window open slightly.

“I… I’m sorry, sir, you crossed without looking…”

“Learn how to drive!” he yelled again. He grabbed the car door handle and tried to yank it open, shaking the door violently. “Get out of there, you slut! Let’s see if you’re so brave face to face!”

Elena felt panic close around her throat. She instinctively locked the doors and leaned back in her seat.

“God, help me…” she murmured. She looked around through the window. There were people on the sidewalk, cars passing slowly, but no one moved. No one intervened. “Sir, please, calm down…”

“Shut up and get out, bitch!” he shouted, pounding on the window again, harder this time.

She closed her eyes for a second, trembling. That was when a strange shiver ran down her spine, a dense sensation, as if the air had grown heavier.

Elena opened her eyes.

Without Elena noticing, someone was crossing the street toward them. The footsteps were calm, steady, contrasting with the chaos of the scene. There was no hurry.

“Get out now…” he said again.

Someone placed a hand on the aggressor’s shoulder.

“Step away from the car,” said a low, controlled, icy voice.

The man turned abruptly, ready to react… but froze.

Elena recognized that posture before even seeing the face.

“Mr. Darkmoor.” He… he was there.

Dark eyes stared at him without blinking, with a deep, penetrating gaze.

“I said,” he repeated, now in an even lower tone, “step away.”

The man took a step back without realizing it, his courage evaporating. He looked afraid.

“I… she almost ran me over…” he tried to justify himself, his voice less aggressive.

Darkmoor tilted his head slightly.

“Leave. Now.”

Silence. Then, without arguing, the man backed away, casting one last hostile glance before disappearing among the cars.

Elena was frozen.

Darkmoor approached the driver’s window and knocked lightly. When she rolled it down, he spoke in an unexpectedly calm tone.

“Are you hurt?”

She shook her head no, unable to speak.

“Drive carefully, Elena,” he said, calling her by name. “Some people don’t know how to control their own violence.”

He stepped away from the car, crossing the street with the same calm with which he had arrived.

Only then did she realize that her hands had stopped shaking.