Entangled in Eternity

The morning light barely manages to pierce through the heavy curtains, casting pale, weak shadows across the room. The tension from the night before still lingers in the air—suffocating, palpable. I sit on the edge of the couch, absently running my fingers over the bruises on my wrists. The marks, dark against my skin, are reminders of Dante's fear, his frustration.

But it isn't just the bruises. It's the way he's tried to push me away—tried to scare me, to tell me that I don't belong. The emotional wound he's left is deeper than any physical pain, and the more I think about it, the more I realize there's something else. Something bigger they're not telling me. I can feel it in the way they look at me when they think I'm not watching, the way their conversations fall into uneasy silences the moment I enter the room.

I've chosen to fight, to stay by their side, but I can't keep fighting blind. I can't be kept in the dark any longer.

Dante stands near the window, his back to the room, rigid and unyielding. Nikolai lounges beside me on the couch, but his usual smirk is missing, his playful arrogance replaced with something darker, more guarded. Lila lingers by the doorway, her arms crossed, her gaze flicking between us as though bracing for what's to come.

The silence stretches out, thick and oppressive. I can't stand it any longer.

"I need to know." My voice cuts through the quiet, firm despite the uncertainty churning in my chest. "Why do they want me? Why are the rogues so relentless?" I look at each of them in turn, my frustration bubbling to the surface. "You've been hiding something from me, haven't you?"

Dante's shoulders tense. His fists clench at his sides, but he still doesn't turn to face me.

Nikolai sighs, raking a hand through his hair. "We've been trying to protect you, sweetheart."

"From what?" I demand, my voice sharper now. "The truth? I'm already in this. I'm not going anywhere. You owe me an explanation."

Lila exchanges a glance with Nikolai, something unspoken passing between them. Her eyes meet mine, full of quiet sympathy. "Olivia, it's not that simple," she says softly, her voice gentle but resolute. "There's more to this than just the murders or the rogues."

My heart skips a beat. "What do you mean?"

The tension in the room grows heavier, like a storm ready to break. For a moment, no one speaks. Then, finally, Dante turns to face me, his dark eyes locking onto mine. His gaze is stormy, filled with guilt, anger, and something deeper—something he doesn't want me to see.

"They don't want you because of who you are now," he says, his voice low and rough. "They want you because of what you were."

The words hit me like a physical blow. "What I was?" I repeat, my voice barely above a whisper. "What does that mean?"

Lila steps forward cautiously, her face soft with regret. "There are old legends," she begins, her tone measured, like she's picking each word carefully. "Stories of humans who were more than human—beings tied to ancient magic, to forces older than most can comprehend. Their bloodlines were said to hold incredible power. Most of those bloodlines have faded away, but some still remain."

I stare at her, the weight of her words sinking in. "You think I'm part of one of these bloodlines?"

Nikolai leans forward, his gaze more serious than I've ever seen it. "You're not just part of it, Olivia. You're descended from a line tied to something ancient. There's a legend about a human—a being born centuries ago, whose power was so strong it could change the balance of the supernatural world. Whoever controls that power controls everything."

The room spins around me, my pulse thudding in my ears. "And you think I'm connected to that?"

Dante's jaw clenches, his frustration clear. "We don't think it. We know it. You're a descendant of that power, Olivia. That's why the rogues want you. They think they can use you to seize control."

I can't breathe. The ground seems to be slipping out from under me. "That's why they're after me," I whisper, the realization hitting me like a ton of bricks. "That's why they won't stop."

Lila nods, her expression full of regret. "We didn't want to tell you until we were certain. Knowing this makes you a target for more than just the rogues. Others would want to exploit your power too."

"And the more you know," Dante adds darkly, "the more danger you're in."

The weight of their words crashes down on me, suffocating and heavy. I'm not just Olivia Grayson, the journalist who has accidentally stumbled into their world. I'm something else, something bigger. Something that could change everything.

Dante's frustration is palpable, the guilt radiating off him in waves. "We thought we could handle the rogues, keep you safe without dragging you into this."

"But you can't, can you?" I say, my voice rising with anger. "You can't protect me from who I am. I have a right to know."

Nikolai stands, his gaze softening as he moves closer. "You're right, sweetheart. We should have told you. But we were scared—scared of what it would mean for you, and for us."

Lila's fingers brush my arm gently, her touch steady. "We didn't want to overwhelm you. We didn't want you to feel trapped in something you couldn't escape."

But it's too late for that. I can feel it deep inside me. There's no escaping this. The weight of my thoughts presses down on me like a lead blanket. I've spent my entire life chasing the truth, running headfirst into danger in search of answers. But this truth is more than I've ever bargained for. My very existence is a threat to their world.

Then, like a cold wave crashing over me, a sickening realization hits.

The night we met… they found me in the chaos of an after-hours crime scene. The urgency, the way they pulled me into their world so quickly, so decisively… They weren't just trying to save me, were they?

I swallow hard, the pit forming in my stomach as I speak. "Were you there to kidnap me that night?"

The silence is deafening. Lila's eyes widen slightly, and Nikolai shifts uncomfortably. But it's Dante's stillness, the way he refuses to meet my eyes, that gives me the answer.

Nikolai finally speaks, his voice uncharacteristically serious. "We didn't want it to go that way," he admits quietly. "But yes, we were there for you."

The betrayal hits me like a punch to the gut. "So what?" I say, my voice shaking with disbelief. "You were just going to take me?"

Lila's voice cracks as she whispers, "Olivia, we had no choice. The rogues were already after you. If we hadn't gotten to you first—"

"And if I hadn't gone with you willingly?" I ask, my anger flaring hot. "What would you have done then?"

Dante's voice is low and rough, full of guilt. "We would have taken you," he says, his eyes finally meeting mine. "We didn't know you then. We didn't understand… what you meant to us. But the plan was to get to you before the rogues could."

The room feels like it's closing in on me. "So you were no better than them," I spit, the betrayal twisting inside me.

Dante's gaze darkens, his jaw tight. "We did what we had to do."

Lila takes a step closer, her hand hovering near mine but not touching. "Olivia, we were trying to protect you. We had to make sure the rogues didn't get to you first."

"By kidnapping me?" I shoot back, my voice trembling with rage. "That's how you justify it?"

"You were in danger," Nikolai cuts in, his voice sharp now. "We didn't have the best intentions at first, but everything changed. We changed. You know that."

"How can I know that?" I ask, tears burning at the back of my eyes. "How can I trust you after all this?"

Lila flinches, her emotions spilling over, almost too strong for her to contain. "You know how I feel about you," she whispers, her voice trembling. "You feel it too, Olivia. We can't hide that from you."

She's right. I can feel their emotions bleeding into mine—their sorrow, their regret, their love. It's real, but the truth they've kept hidden is like a fresh wound that refuses to heal.

"I need time," I say, my voice barely holding steady. "I just… I need to think."

The room falls silent. Lila's hand hovers between us, desperate to close the gap, but she doesn't. I turn away from them and walk out of the room, my heart pounding in my chest, my mind racing with everything they've just told me. The hallway feels too narrow, too suffocating. Each step I take feels heavier, as if the weight of their lies, their intentions, is pulling me down.

They were there to kidnap me.

The words echo in my mind like a mantra, over and over, until it's all I can hear. Dante's rough voice, Lila's soft apologies, Nikolai's earnest attempt to explain—they all blur together in a cacophony of betrayal.

I've trusted them. I've chosen them. But they've never intended to give me that choice. From the moment we met, they've decided my fate without asking me, without intending on letting me decide if I want to be part of their world.

I can still feel their emotions lingering on the edges of my own, that delicate thread that ties us together pulling tight as if they're still reaching out to me, still trying to hold on. Their guilt, their love, their regret—they're all real, but they don't erase what I've learned. They don't take away the fact that I was never meant to know them on my terms. I was a prize they were trying to secure before their enemies could.

I reach the end of the hallway, leaning against the cool drywall, my breath coming in shallow, ragged bursts.

It doesn't make sense. It shouldn't have happened like this. But it has, and now I'm caught in something far bigger than myself.

I'm not just some journalist who's stumbled into a dangerous story. I'm not just the girl who's gotten too close to a world she doesn't belong to.

I'm something else, something dangerous.

And the people I've grown to care about—Dante, Lila, Nikolai—have known all along. They've known the moment they met me, known that my blood is tied to power, known that I'm not just human. They've been playing a game, and I haven't even realized I was a piece on the board.

The worst part? I still don't want to leave them. Even now, with everything I know, with the betrayal twisting inside me like a knife, I can't imagine walking away from them. I can't imagine a world without Lila's steady presence, Nikolai's playful charm, Dante's brooding intensity.

And that terrifies me.

What's wrong with me? Why can't I just walk away? Why can't I hate them for what they've planned? For what they haven't done?

Because I've felt it. From the beginning, I've felt the pull—the undeniable connection that binds me to them. It isn't just desire or curiosity. It's something deeper, something that reaches into my soul and refuses to let go. And I'm not sure if I can let go, either.

I sink down onto the floor, my head in my hands. I feel torn apart, as if two halves of myself are pulling in opposite directions.

One part of me wants to run. Run far away from them, from the danger, from the lies. I've lived my entire life on my own terms, fighting for the truth, for control over my own story. And now, I've lost that control. I've been thrust into a narrative I haven't written, and that scares me more than anything.

But the other part of me—the part that's fallen for them, that's grown attached to them, that feels like I belong with them—can't imagine being anywhere else. I've run alongside them, bled for them, shared my heart with them. And now I'm supposed to walk away?

How can I ever forgive them? How can I ever trust them again?

Could I forgive them?

I think of Lila's eyes, shimmering with unshed tears, her emotions bleeding into mine like waves crashing against the shore. I think of Nikolai's quiet intensity when he admitted the truth, the way his playful mask had dropped for just a moment. I think of Dante, his guilt written across every inch of his face, his words a mixture of regret and something else—something raw.

They haven't taken me by force. They haven't done what the rogues would have done. But the intention was there, and that's enough to tear at the fragile trust we've built.

I press my hands to my face, letting out a ragged breath. I need time. Time to process, time to understand. I need space to figure out if I can live with this, if I can accept that they haven't always been my protectors.

But deep down, I know I'm not going to walk away.

I'm tied to them in ways I don't fully understand, in ways I can't fully escape. And maybe, just maybe, they're tied to me too. Maybe that's why they haven't gone through with their original plan. Maybe that's why they've fought to keep me safe, even when the easy option would have been to just kill me themselves and get rid of the problem altogether.

But even knowing that, even feeling the truth of it in the deepest parts of me, I can't shake the hurt. I can't shake the betrayal that's taken root in my chest, gnawing at me with every breath.

I stand slowly, wiping the tears that have gathered at the corners of my eyes. I have to face them again eventually. I have to confront this head-on, just like I always do.

But not yet.

For now, I need the quiet. I need the space. And I need to figure out if I can ever forgive them for what they've kept from me—and for what they had planned to do.