LOGINThe next morning, sunlight streamed through my blinds, warm and blinding in its ordinary brightness. Ordinary mornings had always comforted me, but today, it felt like a lie. My thoughts were tangled, messy, and uncontrollable. My pulse raced before I even got out of bed.
Alex. Ryan. Dominic.
Three men. Three impossible forces tugging at me in ways I couldn’t understand. I tried to reason with myself Alex was my dad’s best friend, older, established, untouchable. Ryan was my stepbrother, playful, teasing, frustratingly bold. And Dominic… Dominic was my sister’s mate, magnetic, controlling, and silent in a way that made my pulse spike without him even touching me.
I tried to shake the thoughts away. I tried to focus on ordinary things schoolwork, laundry, small tasks that should have occupied my mind. But no matter how hard I tried, my mind kept replaying moments: Alex’s velvet voice, Ryan’s teasing grin, Dominic’s intense gaze.
I got up, showered, and dressed mechanically, like a robot going through motions. But the anticipation, the tension, followed me everywhere.
By mid-morning, I had escaped to the campus library, seeking refuge among the quiet rows of bookshelves. The smell of old paper and polished wood should have been comforting. Instead, it felt oppressive, a subtle reminder that I couldn’t escape.
I was just settling into a secluded corner when I heard it Alex’s voice.
“Mary.”
I jumped, my pulse leaping. He leaned against the library entrance, arms crossed casually, dark eyes fixed on me. His presence alone made my heart hammer, my palms slick with nervous sweat.
“Hi… Alex,” I murmured, forcing a smile I didn’t feel.
“You shouldn’t hide,” he said softly, stepping closer. “Even here. You look… tense.”
I tried to shrug, pretending casualness. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not,” he countered. His eyes locked onto mine, piercing and velvet-soft all at once. “And I can’t let you pretend otherwise.”
My throat went dry, my pulse thrumming in my ears. He was wrong. He had no right to make me feel this way. And yet… he did.
Before I could answer, a familiar voice broke the tension.
“You two conspiring again?” Ryan’s teasing tone echoed from the next aisle. He appeared, grinning like a cat who had caught the canary. “Mary, you’re redder than a stop sign. What’s going on?”
I groaned, my face heating. “Ryan!”
He smirked. “Oh, don’t pretend. You like it. You’re flustered, and it’s adorable. He’s older, commanding… dangerous. Can’t deny it.”
I pressed my lips together, heat rushing to my cheeks. “I’m not”
“Sure,” he interrupted smoothly. “Keep telling yourself that. I enjoy watching you squirm.”
Then I sensed him.
Dominic.
He moved like a shadow along the library perimeter, silent, powerful. He didn’t approach. He didn’t need to. I felt the weight of his gaze as though it had wrapped around me, pulling me into a tension I couldn’t escape. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching, waiting.
He’s everywhere, I thought. Everywhere I turn.
The three of them Alex, Ryan, Dominic surrounded me in a circle of impossible tension. And yet, I couldn’t escape, couldn’t look away, couldn’t pretend it didn’t affect me.
Alex stepped closer, voice low, almost a whisper. “Mary, you can’t keep running from this. Pretending it isn’t there doesn’t make it go away.”
I swallowed hard. “I’m… I’m not running,” I whispered, my voice trembling.
“You are,” he countered, smirking faintly. “Every stolen glance, every hesitation, every moment your body betrays you… that’s running.”
Ryan leaned closer, whispering, voice low and teasing: “See? I told you. No hiding. And don’t forget about Dominic. You’re in over your head.”
I shivered, both from his words and the truth behind them.
The library bell rang, signaling the arrival of more students. I felt trapped. I couldn’t be in the same space as all three men, each pulling me in a different direction, without losing control. My focus shattered. I had to leave.
I grabbed my bag, mumbling an excuse, and bolted toward the exit. Alex followed, his steps deliberate, confident. Ryan jogged lightly to catch up, smirk plastered on his face. Dominic stayed back a fraction, silent, almost stalking me with his gaze.
Outside, the courtyard was sunny and chaotic, full of students laughing, talking, and oblivious to the storm of tension surrounding me.
Alex caught up first. “You can’t keep running from me,” he said softly. His hand brushed mine as he adjusted my bag strap a fleeting touch that ignited fire in my chest.
I stumbled slightly. “I’m not running,” I whispered.
“You are,” he murmured, voice low, teasing. “Every step you take away from me, every glance you try to steal… it’s running.”
Ryan laughed lightly. “And here I thought I was supposed to be the troublemaker. Clearly, Alex is winning the competition.”
I glared. “Ryan, enough!”
He only chuckled, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Relax. I’m observing chaos, that’s all. And you, Mary, are delightful chaos.”
Dominic appeared without warning, tall and broad shouldered, his dark eyes locking on me. “Mary,” he said finally, voice steady, magnetic. “You need to focus. Not on them. On yourself.”
I shivered. He didn’t touch me, but the weight of his presence was enough. My knees weakened under his gaze. He didn’t smile. He didn’t joke. He just existed dominant, possessive, compelling.
I realized how different they all were:
Alex: charming, older, dangerous, velvet-voiced, impossible to resist.
Ryan: playful, teasing, impulsive, infuriatingly fun.
Dominic: silent, commanding, magnetic, possessive.
And I was caught between all three.
We walked together to the student center, the tension thick enough to taste. Every word, every glance, every subtle brush of a hand sent my heart racing. Alex’s eyes lingered too long, Ryan whispered teasing remarks, and Dominic remained a silent, magnetic presence at my side.
Inside, the noise of students, chatter, and music made me dizzy. I felt cornered. Yet every glance they gave me, every teasing word, every quiet attention from Dominic made my body ache. My mind raced with curiosity, fear, desire… a dangerous mix that left me trembling.
By the time I returned home, the city lights glimmered like distant stars. I collapsed on my bed, clutching my pillow, heart still racing. Alex had smiled at me, teasing and dangerous. Ryan had laughed, relentless and maddening. Dominic had lingered in my thoughts, silent but powerful, impossible to ignore.
I realized then that life was no longer ordinary, no longer predictable. Desire, temptation, and tension had invaded my world.
And I wasn’t sure how long I could resist…
I still wake up sometimes expecting the hum.That low, constant vibration under the world, like something watching from behind the walls. It takes me a few seconds to remember where I am, to register the quiet, the open window, the way morning light spills across the floor without permission from any system.Then I breathe.And I remember I am free.The house is small. Intentionally so. No hidden rooms, no reinforced walls, no places designed for surveillance or control. Just wood that creaks when it settles and glass that lets the outside in.Elliot is already awake.I know because the kettle is on, because the faint scent of coffee drifts down the hallway, because some part of me has learned the rhythm of him the way I once learned danger.I pad into the kitchen barefoot.He looks up from the counter and smiles not surprised, not searching. Just… present.“Morning,” he says.“Morning,” I reply.Some days, that’s all we need.The city we chose is quieter than the one we left behind.
The world did not end.That was the strangest part.After everything, the system, the fractures, the choices that felt too big for one body to carry, the world simply… continued. Lights still turned on. Wind still moved through open spaces. People still woke up not knowing how close everything had come to breaking.Elliot and I stood at the edge of the platform as the facility powered down behind us. Not exploding. Not collapsing. Just shutting itself off, layer by layer, like something finally accepting it was no longer needed.No alarms chased us.No one tried to stop us.For the first time in a long while, there was no one telling me where I was allowed to exist.“You’re quiet,” Elliot said.I smiled faintly. “I’m listening.”“To what?”“To the absence,” I said. “It’s loud.”He nodded like he understood exactly what I meant.Outside, the air was colder than I expected. Clean. Untouched by hums or signals or invisible eyes tracking movement. My wristband was gone. The faint pressure
They didn’t bind my hands.That was the first sign this was different.No restraints.No force.No cold efficiency meant to remind me I was owned.Instead, they stood back and let the room speak for them.The chamber was circular, walls layered with shifting data that never quite settled into stillness. It felt less like a courtroom and more like a mirror, every surface designed to reflect consequence rather than judgment.Adrian stayed near the entrance. Elliot was nowhere in sight.That absence hurt more than any restraint ever could.Mary’s presence was steady inside me, not overwhelming, not distant. Present in the way only someone who had already died once could be.“This is the end of their patience,” she said quietly.I swallowed. “And the beginning of mine.”The figures stepped forward at last. Three this time. Not guards. Not observers.Architects.“We will not correct you,” one of them said. “We will not erase you.”My pulse ticked faster.“You will decide,” another continue
The silence that followed felt heavier than anything the system had ever tried to impose on me. The air between us, between me and the man standing there, seemed to hold its breath. I could feel the pressure building, like a storm waiting to break, the hum of the system intensifying in the background.“You’ve made your choice,” he said quietly, his voice laced with something I couldn’t place, maybe disbelief, maybe the last shreds of authority the system still thought it had over me.I didn’t respond right away, not because I couldn’t find the words, but because there was nothing more to say. My choice had been made, and there was nothing he could do to take it back.I took a slow breath, steadying myself, grounding myself in this new, uncertain reality. “I have,” I said finally, my voice low but unwavering. “And it’s not the one you wanted.”“Nothing ever goes according to plan,” he muttered, almost to himself. “But you’ve crossed a line that can’t be undone.”I glanced up at him, my
I knew the moment I stepped into the unknown that it would come to this.I could feel the weight of the system’s pulse against my skin, pressing in from every corner, as if it had been waiting for me to take the wrong step. I’d felt the walls close around me before, but this was different. This time, I wasn’t running from them. I wasn’t hiding behind walls or silence. I was facing them head on.The man before me, his presence wasn’t like the others. It wasn’t calculating, cold, or clinical. No, this one had weight. He had the kind of power that didn’t just come from the system, but from understanding what it could break, and how much more it could control by simply existing.“I warned you,” he repeated, stepping closer. His eyes weren’t soft. They were sharp, assessing, like a predator sizing up its prey. “You’ve been allowed to make choices, Cassie, but there’s a limit. You’ve crossed it.”His words didn’t faze me. They only pushed me further into resolve. Because they had always bel
The system didn’t stop.It couldn’t.It wasn’t designed to pause. It wasn’t made to allow decision making to stand in the way of its own algorithms. It recalculated, rerouted, adjusted every point of data it could.But it didn’t anticipate me.Not anymore.The room remained still, but the tension in the air was palpable, like something about to snap. I stood there, not moving, not reacting to the system’s manipulations, but feeling them. Every hum, every flicker of the lights, every shift in the walls, it was all an attempt to bend me back into place, to force me into a role it had assigned me long ago.But I wasn’t that person.Not anymore.Adrian and Elliot stood at opposite sides of the room, their silent tension wrapping around me, suffocating and yet grounding at the same time. They were mirrors of the choices I had to make, both offering something I couldn’t claim in full. Neither of them understood, and yet, I felt that there was something in their stance that belonged, but not







