7 I Am Coming For You

MAX

The hum of the crowd felt like static in my ears, the music blurring into an unintelligible murmur. But I couldn’t focus on the noise—not when they were standing there—Sara and Sam, locked in their own world. Her laughter, that sound I used to hear more than anything else, filled the space between us. It was light, carefree. It made my chest ache in ways I couldn’t escape.

I leaned against the wall, hidden in the shadows, my heart thundering as I watched them. Every smile, every gentle touch Sam gave her—my Sara—felt like a knife twisting deeper into my gut. How could she have moved on?

I hadn’t expected it to hurt this much, but it did. Seeing them together was like a gut punch, but it wasn’t the sight of her with him that burned—it was the thought of her forgetting me. Of all the memories we shared, all the moments that were supposed to be ours, slipping away like sand through my fingers.

I closed my eyes for a moment, and instantly, memories came flooding back.

The way she laughed, her eyes lighting up when I said something stupid. The soft, quiet mornings in bed, the scent of her skin still fresh from sleep. The way she clung to me when the world got too loud, seeking refuge in me, in my arms.

I clenched my jaw, trying to keep the surge of emotion at bay. But it was impossible. The images kept coming: Sara standing in our old apartment, the sunlight streaming through the window, her fingers trailing down my chest as she smiled up at me, her lips soft against mine.

I remember that kiss like it was yesterday. The heat of her body pressed against mine, her lips so soft and sweet. The way her breath hitched when I deepened it, the warmth of her hands pulling me closer as if she couldn’t get enough of me. She tasted like everything I wanted—everything I needed.

My chest tightened, and I pushed the memory away as quickly as it came. I wasn’t the man I was back then. I was a shadow of him now, lost and broken.

But the ache in my chest didn’t subside. If anything, it deepened.

I looked back at them, Sam’s hand now on her waist, pulling her closer, his lips brushing her ear. A low, guttural sound rumbled in my chest—something primal, something I couldn't control. I wanted to rip them apart. I wanted her back.

I pushed myself off the wall, my feet moving before my brain could catch up. Every step toward them felt like a mistake, but I couldn't stop. She was there, within reach, and I needed to see her, needed to remind her.

She’s mine, I thought, even though I knew it was a lie.

They moved toward the bar, and I followed, a shadow in the sea of people. I kept my distance—just enough to stay hidden. My eyes never left her. I could hear Sam’s voice now, that smooth, comforting tone. I hated how it sounded so natural with her. How she leaned into him, how she smiled as if everything was... okay.

I remember how it felt when it was just the two of us—when no one else existed in the world. She would pull me close like she wanted to melt into me, our lips locking in that fierce, hungry kiss that made time stand still. I would run my hands through her hair, feel the warmth of her skin, and for a few perfect moments, we were untouchable, safe in the bubble of our love.

I shook my head, trying to clear the thoughts, but they were relentless, overpowering.

Why couldn’t she just remember? Why couldn’t she see that I would never stop loving her?

I didn’t know how long I stood there, lost in those memories, but when I finally focused again, I was dangerously close to them. Too close. Sam was ordering their drinks, his back to me. I could see the curve of Sara’s neck, the way she bit her lip, trying to hide a smile as she glanced at him. My chest tightened, and I couldn’t hold back any longer.

“Don’t drink that.”

The words came out soft, velvet-coated but dark—a threat she wouldn’t be able to ignore.

Sara froze. Her body stiffened at the sound of my voice. Her breath caught in her throat as she spun around, eyes wide with panic. For a moment, I saw it—the flash of something in her expression that betrayed everything she was trying to hide. It wasn’t just fear. It was hesitation, confusion... maybe even longing. The glass slipped in her hand and clattered against the floor, shattering into a million pieces. The tension in the room was palpable as we stood there, locked in a silent battle of wills.

I saw her eyes flicker to my hand, still gripping her wrist, and I felt the pulse of warmth, the electric shock between us that hadn’t faded even after all this time.

Sam shifted beside her, stepping between us with a protective fury that burned in his eyes. "What the hell do you want, Max?" His voice was sharp, full of anger, but beneath it, there was something else—something he didn’t even realize yet.

His arm moved to shield Sara, but she didn’t pull away. She hesitated—just for a second—but I saw it. The crack in her armor. The slight shift in her posture that told me she wasn’t as untouched by me as she pretended to be.

I leaned in, my gaze never leaving her, my voice low and almost menacing. "Just a little fun, Samuel. Don’t be such a buzzkill."

But I wasn’t here to play games. I wasn’t here for cheap taunts. I was here to remind them—remind her—of everything we had and everything I was willing to do to make it mine again.

I let go of her wrist for a moment, just enough to make her think I was backing off. But she didn’t move. She was still rooted to the spot, her hand clenched tightly at her side, the unspoken words hanging between us.

"You think you can just come in here and do this?" Sam demanded, stepping forward, fists clenched. His jaw was tight, the muscles in his neck straining with the effort to keep his composure. But I could see it. The cracks in his confident façade. The fear for her.

But what did he know?

He didn’t know what I’d done for her. He didn’t know what I was willing to do.

Sara spoke then, her voice trembling as she tried to keep control, but I could hear the shakiness in her words. “Max, leave us alone,” she whispered, the fight draining from her.

I caught the hesitation in her voice—the small crack of vulnerability. She wasn’t just trying to protect herself—she was trying to protect me too. I saw it in the way she looked at me, even as she turned away. She was still torn, still battling the ghosts of our past.

“Just go,” she murmured again, softer this time, almost pleading.

But I wasn’t done. Not by a long shot.

I reached for her again, my hand brushing against hers as I pulled her closer. The warmth of her skin burned through me, reigniting something I thought I had buried deep inside. Her body tensed, but for a moment—just a moment—she didn’t pull away.

“You’re not done with me, Sara,” I whispered into her ear, my voice low and full of the darkness I couldn’t hide. "Not yet."

Her breath hitched, and I saw the way her pulse quickened, her chest rising and falling with the weight of the emotions we both knew too well. But she pulled back, shaking her head.

“Max, please,” she said, her voice breaking. “You don’t have to do this.”

I smirked, letting go of her wrist. “I don’t play games, sweetheart,” I said, stepping back. “I win.”

Sam looked like he was about to snap. He moved in close, ready to fight, but I wasn’t worried. Not yet. This wasn’t the time. I could feel the shift in Sara’s energy. She wasn’t sure anymore, and that uncertainty was all I needed.

As they turned to leave, her hand still in Sam’s, I saw her pause. Just a slight hesitation. She wasn’t fooling anyone—not me. The bond between us hadn’t been broken, and she knew it. She turned to look back at me, a flicker of doubt in her eyes before quickly turning away. I knew then that my victory was inevitable.

I was coming for her. I was coming for both of them.

But this time, I wasn’t going to let her slip away.