Semua Bab Shared Desires: Bab 81 - Bab 90

John doesn’t raise his voice, yet his words weigh as if each one had been sharpened before being thrown at me, and when I hear him say, “I can’t keep looking at you two as if it didn’t hurt me,” I feel something in my chest splinter, as if guilt had been waiting for this exact moment to sink its claws into my skin.There are no shouts, no slamming doors—only the dry sound of the door closing behind him. And the silence he leaves behind is more violent than any fight, because I’m left here, in the middle of a room that suddenly feels far too big and far too empty, even though Demon is still standing there, watching me with those eyes that seem to search inside me for something I’m not sure I want to show.I don’t try to stop him—John—because I know that if I do, I’ll end up begging, and I don’t want him to see me like that; I don’t want him to think I’m keeping him here out of pity or fear. And I don’t move toward Demon either, even though his breath is close enough for me to feel it o

The sound of the wind battering the windows is like a wild animal trying to get in, a roar that cuts through the walls and blends with the constant murmur of the raging sea outside, where the night feels thicker and wetter than ever; John paces back and forth, phone in hand, brow furrowed, lips tight, and though he tries to hide it, I know the call he just got isn’t something he can fix with a smile and a couple of confident lines. “I won’t be gone long,” he says finally, as if his voice could soften what’s about to break. “It’s just… a family matter, something I can’t ignore.” I step closer, take his arm, and feel how his skin is colder than usual, as if he’s already somewhere else, mind far away, not here with me and Demon; his eyes soften when they meet mine, but that softness is more dangerous than any fury, because it speaks of distance, of something I can’t control. “Is it serious?” I ask, knowing he won’t tell me everything, because John always keeps a piece of the truth t

The rumor arrives like a spark that sets fire to everything I’ve been trying to keep under control. Demon is leaning against the kitchen counter, wearing that look that seems to dare me to say no to him, and I, with my hands trembling around the warm mug, listen to the voice of the man from the port who swears he saw a vehicle identical to John’s, stopped on a snow-covered road near a town that doesn’t even appear on every map.“It could be anyone,” I say, more to convince myself than him, though his expression makes it clear he won’t accept my excuse. “We don’t know anything…”“And that’s exactly why we have to go,” he answers, his voice low and cutting through any attempt at reasoning, as if each word carries enough weight not to need explanation. “I don’t care if there’s a damn storm out there, Cat. If there’s even the slightest chance it’s John, I’m not staying here waiting for him.”I look at him, and for an instant, I hate the way he talks about him—as if he needs him as much as

The cold bites into my skin even under the layers of clothing, a cold that has nothing to do with the snow crunching beneath my boots, but with the hollow that grows wider and wider in my chest with every hour that passes without knowing where John is, without hearing his deep voice telling me everything’s fine, without feeling that strange safety he gives me even when he’s making me mad—and although Demon walks at my side, tall, imposing, with that gaze that seems capable of piercing through the blizzard and finding him at any moment, I can’t shake the feeling that this search is like walking inside a dream I’ll never wake from.“Cat.” His voice makes me look at him, grave, tense, as if he doesn’t want to worry me but knows he can’t help it. “The guy at the shelter says he saw him… and that he wasn’t alone.”The snow lashes my face as he stops, takes a step closer, and though I could move away, I stay still, staring at him as if his words are a hook dragging me toward something worse

I don’t know if the knock on the door is real or if my mind, worn out from so much waiting, is playing another of those cruel tricks that end in tears. I’m sitting on the couch, legs pulled up, wrapped in a blanket that still smells faintly of John, though the scent fades more with each passing day, and I’m startled by how hard my heart pounds when Demon leaps to his feet, serious, as if he’s recognized a sound I can’t—or won’t—fully process.“Stay here,” he orders in that deep voice that, even in the tensest moments, sends a shiver down my spine. “If it’s who I think it is, I need to see him first.”I don’t listen.Not because I’m stubborn—though I am—but because I feel that if I stay sitting here, the moment I’ve been dreaming of through endless nights will slip through my fingers like water. I walk behind Demon, my heart racing so wildly it hurts to breathe, and when he opens the door, the air seems to contract with a sharp, silent blow.There he is.John.Not as I remembered him,