6 Max's Mark

Sarah**

The music played on, a distant murmur now, as I stood there, trapped between Sam’s steady presence and the ghost of Max. The tension in the air was thick, a storm brewing on the horizon, and I could feel the weight of it pressing down on me, suffocating.

Sam’s hand remained firm on my waist, but there was something unreadable in his eyes, a flicker of something I hadn’t seen before—concern, yes, but maybe something darker. His protective instincts were sharp, but I couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that he wasn’t entirely sure what he was up against. Neither of us was, really.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Sam asked, his voice quieter now, almost tentative.

I forced a smile, trying to reassure him, but it felt like a mask that was about to crack. “I’m fine. Just... surprised.”

“You don’t look fine,” he said, his voice low and filled with a trace of worry. “I don’t like how he looks at you.”

I swallowed, the memory of Max’s gaze still lingering on my skin like a searing brand. “It’s not what you think. Max... he’s just playing games.”

“Games?” Sam echoed, a slight edge creeping into his tone. “You don’t seem so sure of that.”

I could feel his eyes on me, searching for the truth, but I couldn’t give it to him—not now. Not when I wasn’t even sure what the truth was anymore.

The music faded into a blur as I tried to focus on Sam, but my gaze kept drifting back to the door where Max had disappeared. The sensation of his eyes on me still lingered, like an invisible weight pressing down. I didn’t want to acknowledge it, but the chill at the back of my neck told me he was still watching. Waiting.

“For how long?”

What did he mean by that? What was he planning?

“Do you need a drink?” Sam asked, his voice snapping me back to the present. “You’ve barely touched yours tonight.”

I nodded absently, still caught in the swirl of emotions. “Yes. That sounds good.”

He led me toward the bar, but my eyes kept flicking back to the door where Max had disappeared. I couldn’t shake the feeling that he wasn’t done with me—that he was only just getting started.

As Sam ordered our drinks, I forced myself to take a deep breath. I had to focus. I had to stay grounded. I couldn’t let Max get under my skin again.

As the glass of champagne was placed before me, I felt the sudden cold creep up my spine, like the air itself had shifted. A shadow loomed behind me, and before I could lift the glass to my lips, a hand—cold and firm—wrapped around my wrist, jerking me back with a sharp tug. My heart skipped, a pulse of panic racing through me as I spun to face him.

"Don't drink that," Max's voice was a velvet threat in my ear. His eyes bore into mine, daring me to defy him.

The cold edge in his words sent a shiver through me, and I realized I had been too distracted to notice how close he'd gotten. My hand trembled as I dropped the glass, the sound of it shattering on the floor like the breaking of my resolve.

Sam's arms wrapped around me instantly, pulling me away from Max’s reach. His protective grip was solid, but I could feel the tension in his muscles, his anger simmering just beneath the surface.

"What do you want?" Sam demanded, his voice sharp, laced with both fury and concern.

Max’s smirk only deepened as he leaned in closer. "Just a little fun, Samuel. Don’t be such a buzzkill."

Sam’s body stiffened, and I could feel the wave of possessiveness rolling off him. He was ready to fight, to throw down, but I could feel the danger of that, too. Max wasn’t someone who could be easily dismissed, and I could already feel the walls closing in, the space between us thick with unspoken threats.

"Leave us alone, Max," I said, trying to sound brave, even though the pit in my stomach was growing deeper. My voice trembled slightly, betraying me. "This isn’t a game."

Max’s hand tightened around my wrist, his fingers cold against my skin, sending a jolt of panic through me. My heart pounded so loudly I couldn’t hear anything else, but I could feel the heat of Sam’s body, the tension in his muscles as he stood between us. "Make me," Max said, his voice low and cold, like a challenge that hung in the air.

I could feel Sam’s tension, a barely contained storm ready to break. His grip on me was solid, but I saw the flicker of something else in his eyes—doubt. He wasn’t just angry; he was enraged, and that terrified me more than Max’s threats ever could. Before Sam could respond, I pulled Sam back slightly, my fingers gripping his arm with a mix of fear and desperation. I wasn’t just trying to stop him from fighting Max; I was trying to stop myself from falling back into the mess I had made of my past. I wasn’t sure if I could hold on to both Sam and my sanity, but I had to try.

"Let’s not do this," I whispered, my voice strained as I tried to diffuse the situation. "Sam, let’s just go; it’s not worth it."

Sam hesitated, his eyes scanning my face for any hint of the truth, but he relented, his shoulders relaxing slightly. "You okay?" he asked, his concern bleeding through as he brushed a strand of hair away from my face. I forced a smile and nodded, though I wasn’t sure I was. I could feel the fear clawing at my throat, but I couldn’t let it show. "Just a little shaken up," I said, my voice barely a whisper. "Let's just go home."

Max’s voice followed us, a sharp taunt that cracked through the tension like glass. “Leave, like the little coward you’ve always been.” Max’s eyes glittered with something dark and possessive, a hunger that made my skin crawl. The smile on his lips wasn’t friendly but a predator’s grin—like he could taste the fear rolling off me.

I refused to look back at him. The words burned in my mind, but I pushed them down, focusing on Sam’s grip on my hand, his strength anchoring me in the moment. We didn’t stop as we made our way out of the crowd, my pulse still hammering in my chest.

Once we were out of sight, I finally let out a breath, a shaky exhale I hadn’t realized I was holding in. The pressure in my chest eased, but the weight of Max’s words still lingered. They echoed in my head like an ominous drumbeat.

I glanced at Sam, his hand still wrapped around mine. He didn’t say anything, but I could feel the storm brewing inside him. His usual confidence had cracked, and I wondered if he was questioning whether he could protect me from whatever Max had in mind.

"Are you sure you’re okay?" Sam asked again as we reached the exit, his voice soft but filled with worry.

I shook my head slightly. "I don’t know." I wasn’t sure of anything anymore.

Max was back. And with him, the ghosts of our past were crawling out of the shadows, dragging with them a promise I could never outrun. My chest tightened with something other than fear. I hadn’t been ready for this confrontation, not just because of Max, but because of what he meant. Our past was the sweetest part of my life, something that I don't think I can ever fully let go of. But the Max now is a stranger, and I wasn't sure if I was ready to face the person he had become.

Max’s words slithered into my mind, crawling under my skin. 'I’ll make you mine again, Sara,' he whispered, a venomous caress against the chaos that already filled my head. 'No matter what it takes. You can’t escape me.' They didn’t just echo in my ears—they burrowed deep, like a promise, like a curse. And I knew then, with terrifying certainty, that I’d never be free of him.