Chapter 17: Claiming Fire

Zay’s POV

I never thought I’d feel this way. Not after all the years I spent pushing her away, tormenting her just to mask what I really felt. But standing there, watching that guy—Ryan—smiling like he owned the room when he looked at Vee, something inside me snapped.

It was like my entire body shifted, my skin heating up, my fists clenching before I even realized what was happening. That wasn’t jealousy. It was something darker, sharper—a fierce, possessive fire that I couldn’t control.

I should’ve been angry. Hell, I was angry. Angry at Ryan for even thinking he could touch what had been mine since grade school. Angry at myself for letting her slip away this long. Angry at the past that kept us tangled in confusion.

But beneath all that anger was something more—desperate, raw, and completely overwhelming. I wanted her. Not just as some prize to win, but like she was the only thing that could save me.

I saw her across the quad, laughing with those friends of hers. The light in her eyes, the way her smile lit up everything around her—it broke me. Because I knew she deserved better than me. Deserved someone who didn’t make her want to run away every time he was near.

But then, just as quickly as the thought came, it was gone. Because I was the one standing here, the one who’d chased her across every stage of our lives, the one who wasn’t about to let her go without a fight.

When Ryan approached, I wanted to say something—anything—to stake my claim. But instead, I clenched my jaw and stayed silent, watching how Vee handled it. That quiet strength she showed, deflecting with a calm that hid so much fire—I loved her for it. Even if it tore me apart.

I could feel the tension winding tight inside me, like a coil ready to snap. When Ryan left, I saw it in Vee’s eyes—the way she looked at me, warning me not to lose control. But she didn’t have to say a word. I already knew.

“I don’t own you,” I said, voice low and rough when we finally found ourselves alone.

“No,” she said, steady but sharp.

“But I want you like I want air. Like I want to breathe.”

She looked away, like the words hit harder than she expected. Maybe they hit harder than I wanted them to.

“I’m scared, Zay,” she admitted quietly. “Scared that you’ll hurt me again. That this is just some game to you.”

I swallowed hard, fighting back the weight of years of mistakes. “I’m not that guy anymore. I never was the guy I pretended to be. I was just scared to be the guy I really am.”

Her eyes searched mine, searching for the truth. I could feel it—the fragile hope she was clinging to, the walls she still built around herself.

“I want to break down those walls,” I said softly. “One brick at a time, if I have to.”

She didn’t answer. Just reached out and took my hand. That small gesture was everything I’d been waiting for.

It was a promise. A challenge. A beginning.

Later that night, alone in my room, I replayed every moment. Every glance, every touch. The ache inside me was unbearable, but it was also alive—a fire that demanded to be fed.

I knew what I had to do. I had to show her. Not with words, but with everything I was.

Because I wasn’t just fighting for her anymore. I was fighting for us.

And this time, I wasn’t holding back.