The night pressed heavy on Divine’s chest as if the air itself carried weight. The manuscript still lay scattered across her floor, its words breathing like a living thing. Each time she blinked, she saw the same sentence echoing behind her eyelids. The betrayer returns when the shadows are weakest and the moon is thin.
She wanted to dismiss it as another manipulation, a trick of Xavier’s ink and imagination. Yet when she glanced outside her window, the sky confirmed the omen. The moon hung thin and sharp like a sickle, a sliver of silver threatening to slice open the horizon. She shivered, clutching her arms, trying to still the unease that crawled along her skin.
The knock came just before midnight. Soft at first, then louder, insistent, rattling her bones.
Her body went rigid. She had not been expecting anyone. Sid was away visiting a colleague, Stacy had not spoken since their argument, and Xavier—she prayed he would never stand outside her door uninvited. But the voice that followed the knock struck her deeper than either of them.
Divine. Open up. It is me.
Her throat tightened. Maverick.
For a moment she thought she was dreaming, that the manuscript had infected her sleep again. But the voice was too real, the cadence too familiar. The years had not stolen its dark smoothness, the charm laced with command. She stumbled backward, shaking her head. This was impossible. He should have been gone, erased from her life like a scar healed over.
Divine, he called again, softer now, almost coaxing. I only want to talk.
Her heart thundered in her ears. She told herself to stay still, to remain hidden in silence. But her body betrayed her. She stepped forward, almost against her will, and her hand hovered above the knob. She remembered every bruise he left on her, every whispered promise, every night he blurred love with cruelty. And yet some buried part of her still responded to his pull.
Do not, she whispered to herself. Do not open it.
But the door creaked anyway.
Maverick stood there in the dim light of the hallway. He looked older, sharper, but no less magnetic. His eyes carried the same mix of danger and allure, the same promise of destruction disguised as intimacy. A smile curved his lips as if time had never passed.
There you are, he said softly. I knew you would let me in.
Her voice was a rasp. How did you find me.
He shrugged as if the answer was trivial. You cannot hide from me, Divine. You never could.
He stepped inside uninvited, his presence filling the small apartment. She backed away, clutching her trembling hands together, her body torn between fear and the old, sick familiarity of being near him.
I thought you were gone, she whispered.
He tilted his head, his smile widening. Did you. Or did you only hope.
The manuscript flashed in her mind, the prophecy that the betrayer would return. Was this chance, or had Xavier written Maverick into reality. She felt the walls tighten around her as if both men were puppeteers pulling at her strings.
Maverick’s gaze swept the apartment, then landed on the scattered pages. He strode over and picked one up, reading aloud with a mocking laugh. The betrayer returns when the shadows are weakest. Well that is dramatic. He turned his eyes to her, sharp and gleaming. Did your new lover write this filth.
He knows things, she said before she could stop herself.
Maverick’s smile faltered. Knows things about us.
He closed the distance between them, his breath hot against her face. There is no us anymore, Divine. Only me. You belong to me. You always have.
Her pulse raced with panic and anger. No, she said, her voice trembling but fierce. I do not belong to you.
Maverick’s hand shot out, gripping her wrist with cruel familiarity. She gasped, the old pain roaring back through her veins. But before she could cry out, another voice cut through the air.
Let her go.
Divine turned, shock slicing through her. Xavier stood at the doorway, his dark coat trailing behind him like a shadow. His eyes locked on Maverick, and in that instant the room became an arena.
Maverick released her slowly, his smirk curling as if amused. So this is the famous author, he said. The man who thinks he can rewrite what is mine.
Xavier’s voice was calm, but it carried an edge sharp as glass. She was never yours.
The two men faced each other, polar forces of her past and present, yet both holding her like opposing chains. Divine pressed against the wall, her chest heaving, caught between the fire of Maverick’s touch and the cold pull of Xavier’s gaze.
Maverick chuckled, shaking his head. You think you are saving her. You are no different from me. You want her trapped in your story the way I trapped her in my arms.
Xavier’s jaw tightened, but his eyes never left Maverick. The difference is that I give her truth. You only gave her pain.
Divine’s hands clutched the fabric of her dress, her mind spinning. Were they both liars, both jailers cloaked in different masks. One offered chains she could see, the other offered destiny disguised as salvation.
She felt the manuscript’s presence calling to her from the floor, its pages whispering the script of betrayal and surrender. She realized then that both men wanted to own her, to carve her into their version of reality. And if she allowed it, she would vanish completely.
Stop, she said, her voice breaking but loud enough to cut through their battle.
Both men turned to her.
I am not yours, she said to Maverick. I am not yours, she repeated to Xavier.
Maverick’s expression darkened. Do not play games, Divine. You know you cannot survive without me.
Xavier’s voice was quieter, coaxing. The story is already written. Fighting it only deepens your suffering.
Her eyes burned with tears. Then I will write a new story. My own.
She rushed to the desk, grabbed a pen, and snatched a blank sheet of paper. Her hand shook violently as she pressed the pen down. Words spilled from her, not thought but instinct, a desperate cry to seize control.
This is not the end, she wrote. This is the beginning.
Maverick lunged forward, but Xavier caught his arm, pulling him back with a sudden force. They struggled, a violent clash that shattered the small space. Divine ignored them, her focus locked on the paper as she scrawled her declaration.
I choose myself. Not torment. Not obsession. Not fate.
The sound of their fight crashed around her, grunts and broken furniture echoing. She kept writing, her tears smudging the ink.
I choose to live.
The moment she finished the sentence, silence fell. She looked up, breathless, and saw Maverick collapse to his knees, his strength drained. Xavier released him, his eyes fixed on Divine with something between awe and fear.
The manuscript on the floor fluttered as if caught in an invisible wind. Pages turned rapidly, words rearranging themselves, paragraphs vanishing and reforming. When it stilled, Divine saw her new sentences written within its lines, altering the story that once bound her.
She dropped the pen, her chest heaving. Maverick glared at her with venom, but he looked smaller now, reduced to a shadow of what he once was. Xavier stood rigid, his expression unreadable.
You broke it, he whispered.
Divine wiped her tears, her voice steady despite her trembling body. No. I freed it.
Maverick cursed under his breath, stumbling out into the night. His figure disappeared into the darkness, but she knew he would linger like a ghost on the edges of her life.
Xavier remained, silent and watchful. His eyes burned with something dangerous, not anger but a strange reverence. You think you are free, he murmured. But perhaps freedom itself is only another page.
Divine held his gaze, refusing to flinch. Then let it be my page.
For the first time, Xavier looked uncertain. He stepped back, his form fading into shadow as if the darkness swallowed him whole. The door closed behind him, leaving her alone in the wreckage.
Divine sank to the floor, her body weak but her spirit fierce. She stared at the manuscript one last time. The final page remained unfinished, blank and waiting.
She whispered into the silence. I will write it myself.
ns216.73.216.13da2
and then Add to home screen.