Entangled in Eternity

The door creaks as we step inside the safe house, and I immediately tense, my nerves raw from the night before. The scent of aged wood and incense hangs in the air, but instead of soothing me, it only makes my skin prickle. My body aches, not just from the intensity of the night we've shared, but from the constant fear that has settled into my bones. Even now, in the supposed safety of this house, I can't shake the lingering adrenaline, the feeling that at any moment, everything could go wrong.

Marcus, the vampire who owns the place, vanishes the second we cross the threshold, leaving us in a silence that feels more ominous than comforting. I tell myself we're safe here, but I don't believe it.

Not after what happened earlier.

I drop our bag by the couch, my fingers trembling despite my efforts to keep steady. The room is warmer than where we've been—more comfortable, less abandoned—but that doesn't matter. The tension between Dante, Nikolai, and Lila is suffocating, thick and heavy like the threat of another rogue attack.

I scan the room quickly, feeling the weight of their emotions before anyone speaks. Dante stands near the door, his back to the rest of us, his entire body rigid as though bracing for something inevitable. I can feel the frustration radiating from him, even though he hasn't said a word since we fled the rogues hours earlier. Nikolai paces near the far wall, his movements sharp and erratic, a caged animal barely holding it together. He hasn't stopped moving since we arrived, and with each step, I sense his irritation building, filling every inch of the room.

My heart hammers as I try to calm myself. The echoes of last night still ring in my ears—the terror of being hunted, the near capture, the way I could almost feel the rogue's fangs digging into my skin before Dante saved me. The rush of it hasn't left me. I haven't slept. I haven't even let myself blink too long in fear that when I open my eyes, they'll be there, waiting.

I can still feel them, even now. And as much as I want to deny it, I know Nikolai is right.

"We can't keep doing this," Nikolai growls, his voice low and dangerous. He doesn't stop pacing, his eyes flashing every time he glances at Dante. "Running from place to place isn't going to be enough. It's a waste of time."

I flinch at his words. They feel like a sharp jab to the chest, a reminder of how fragile my situation has become.

Nikolai's gaze flicks to me for a moment—just long enough for me to feel the weight of his accusation. He isn't just frustrated with Dante; he's frustrated with me, with my humanity, with the weakness that has become a liability for them. For all of us.

I want to say something, anything, to break the suffocating silence, but my throat feels tight, dry. My mind races with all the terrible possibilities of what could happen if they find us again. How long can we keep them from finding us?

"We know what we have to do," Nikolai adds, his words more pointed, sharper.

Dante doesn't turn around. His voice is calm, too calm, but I hear the tension simmering just beneath the surface. "We're not turning her."

I tense, the mention of my transformation sending a chill through me. We've circled back to this—again. The idea of becoming one of them has been looming over me, a decision that feels like it isn't entirely mine to make, even though Dante insists it is. My humanity dangles between them like a fragile thread, and I'm not ready to cut it. Not yet. Maybe never.

Nikolai's laugh cuts through the room, harsh and bitter. "You're delusional if you think we can keep protecting her like this, Dante. How long do you think that's going to last? We can't watch her every second, and the rogues are only getting closer."

My stomach twists painfully as the memories come flooding back. The dark, the cold, the sound of their snarls as they close in on us. I can still feel the phantom grip of the rogue who almost dragged me away. My heart pounds harder, a cold sweat prickling at my skin.

Dante finally turns, stepping closer to the center of the room, his movements slow and deliberate. "We'll find another way," he says, his voice hard as steel. His dark eyes meet Nikolai's with a dangerous intensity. "She's not becoming like us unless she chooses it."

I feel a small flicker of relief, but it's quickly drowned out by the fear gnawing at the edges of my mind. He's defending my choice, yes, but I'm not sure if it's to protect me or to avoid facing what I might become if I do change. And deep down, I know he can't protect me from the rogues forever. Not like this.

"Choose?" Nikolai's frustration spills over, his steps bringing him closer to Dante, as if daring him to argue. "You think she has time for that? You're waiting for her to make a decision, but by then it could be too late. You've seen what they can do!"

The weight of his words crushes down on me. I know what they can do. I've seen it. Felt it. I can still hear their snarls, see the gleam of their eyes in the darkness. I haven't forgotten, and I can't. My hands clench into fists at my sides as I fight the tremors threatening to betray my fear.

But I can't let them see how scared I am. I have to hold on. To something. Anything.

Lila steps in between them, her voice soft but unyielding. "This isn't helping," she says, her gaze flicking from Dante to Nikolai. "We're all tired, and we're scared. But we can't make this decision for her. Not like this."

I hear the exhaustion in her voice. Even Lila, who is always the calmest, the mediator, is fraying at the edges. The lines of worry etched on her face tell me how much this is wearing her down. She's trying to hold us all together, but the cracks are showing.

I swallow hard, forcing my voice to break through the tension in the room. "I'm right here, you know." My words come out sharper than I intend, but I can't help it. They're talking about me, about my future, as though I'm not standing right in front of them. "Maybe I should get a say in this."

Dante's gaze softens slightly as it meets mine, but I can still see the fear behind his eyes, the fear he's trying so hard to bury. "You will," he says quietly. "But not yet. You don't need to rush into a decision."

Not yet. Always not yet. How much longer can I keep putting this off? I'm not ready to become like them, to give up the last piece of my humanity that still feels like mine. But I also know I can't stay human forever. Not in this world. Not with the rogues hunting me like prey.

Nikolai scoffs, running a hand through his hair, his frustration radiating off him in waves. "This is madness," he mutters, more to himself than anyone else. "How long are we going to keep pretending we can outrun them? It's only a matter of time before they find us again. We have to be ready for what's coming, and right now, she's not."

Lila places a hand on his arm, trying to calm him, but it's not enough. He's too far gone, too wound up, too full of restless energy. "You don't get it, Lila," he says, his voice rough with desperation. "I'm the one out there fighting them off while Dante tries to keep her human. It's not enough."

"We're all fighting, Nikolai," Lila replies softly, but there's a sadness in her voice, a quiet resignation. "But turning her without her consent won't make this right. It won't make us any safer."

"That's not what I want either!" Nikolai shakes his head, his eyes flashing with something darker than frustration—fear. "So what do we do?" he snaps, his voice rising. "Just keep running until we're cornered? You're all acting like we have more time than we do."

The silence that falls over the room is suffocating, pressing down on me like a weight I can't escape. The air is thick with all the unsaid things hanging between us—fear, guilt, anger, love. It's too much.

"I don't know what I'm going to do," I say quietly, my voice trembling despite my best efforts to stay strong. "But I'm not ready to make this choice. Not yet."

Dante's gaze flickers with a thousand emotions—relief, guilt, maybe even regret. "You don't have to," he says softly, though the words feel hollow.

Nikolai lets out a bitter laugh, shaking his head as he turns away. "That's the problem, Dante. The choice is going to be made for her, one way or another."

Without another word, he storms out of the room, his footsteps echoing down the hallway. Lila glances between Dante and me, her expression weary, before she follows after him, leaving the two of us alone in the thick, uncomfortable silence.

I stare at the door, my heart racing, my thoughts spiraling. I don't know what to feel—fear, anger, guilt. Maybe all of it at once. The walls of the safe house feel like they're closing in, trapping me in a web of impossible decisions, expectations, and fears I can't escape.

"I'm sorry," Dante says quietly, finally turning to face me, his voice filled with regret. "I didn't want this for you."

I meet his gaze, the ache in my chest growing stronger. "I didn't want this for any of us," I whisper.

I stood there, the silence between us heavier than the air itself. Dante had always been a force—imposing, controlled—but now, something about him seemed frayed. His eyes stayed fixed on the ground, a storm behind them that he hadn't let me see until now.

"Are you still angry with me?" I asked, my voice softer than I intended.

Dante's gaze lifted, sharp but layered with something more than just anger. "I'm not angry with you, Olivia. I'm angry with myself… for failing you."

I swallowed hard, the weight of his words pulling me deeper into the tension between us. "You didn't fail me. I chose this, all of it. Maybe… maybe it was stupid. But I don't need you to protect me from myself."

His jaw clenched, the familiar restraint he always carried around me cracking just slightly. "You don't understand. It's not just about protection. I—" He cut himself off, looking away as if the words were too difficult to speak.

My heart thudded in my chest, the same confusing mix of trust and fear I felt toward Dante knotting tighter. "Then tell me," I pressed. "Tell me why you're keeping me at arm's length."

For a moment, I thought he wouldn't. That he would retreat behind the walls he always kept up. But instead, he exhaled, like a weight was pressing down on him too.

"I keep thinking… what if I lose you? What if I can't protect you, and it's my fault?" His voice was raw, the anger gone, replaced by something more fragile. "Nikolai wants you, Lila cares for you, and I—I've been holding back because I'm afraid I'll ruin everything. I didn't want to be the one who breaks you, Olivia."

I blinked, unsure of how to respond. The truth of his words hung between us, something I hadn't expected to hear. He wasn't angry at me—he was terrified of losing me, of losing the fragile sense of control he always carried with him.

"Dante…" I began, my voice shaky. "You don't have to carry all of that. I'm here because I choose to be."

He stared at me for a long moment, and then finally, something in him softened. His shoulders relaxed, his jaw unclenching as he reached out to brush his fingers against mine—just a small, fleeting touch, but enough to close the distance between us.

"I know," he murmured. "I just… It's just hard to accept that."

The tension in the air seemed to shift slightly, the storm still there but quieter. It wasn't a full resolution, but it was enough.

We both turned to glance toward the room where Lila and Nikolai had disappeared. As if on cue, the door opened. Lila stepped out first, her expression unreadable, though her eyes found mine quickly. There was a calm resolve in her that I had come to rely on, like she could hold all of us together even when we were breaking apart. Behind her, Nikolai lingered in the doorway, his usual bravado stripped away, but still holding onto that confident edge. His shoulders were tense, his gaze conflicted as he glanced at me.

Lila crossed the room toward me, her movements fluid, graceful, yet purposeful. She gave Dante a soft look before turning her attention fully to me.

"I talked to him," she said quietly, as though speaking too loudly would shatter the fragile calm we'd just managed to reach. "He understands that this has hurt us. We all have a part to play in this."

I looked past her to Nikolai. He still hadn't moved from the doorway, his eyes flicking between me and the floor as if unsure whether to approach. There was a storm brewing beneath his calm exterior, a mix of regret and something else I couldn't quite place. He seemed torn, as if the weight of what he had said hadn't fully settled on him yet—or he wasn't ready to face it.

"He's not the same without you," Lila continued gently, her voice barely a whisper now, meant only for me. "None of us are."

I didn't know what to say. The anger I had felt toward Nikolai hadn't fully faded, but seeing him like this—so stripped of his usual facade—made it harder to hold onto that anger. I swallowed the lump in my throat and took a step forward, my eyes never leaving his.

"Nikolai," I started, my voice low but steady. "I need to hear you say something. I need to know you understand the gravity of everything that's happened."

He finally lifted his gaze, his eyes meeting mine with an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine. "Olivia… I'm sorry for everything that's gone wrong. I never meant for it to be like this," he said, his voice careful, like he was choosing each word with purpose. "I've only ever wanted to keep you safe. To make sure you're still standing when this is over."

The room seemed to hold its breath as his words settled between us. There was something in his tone—something that left me unsettled. He wasn't apologizing for what he did, not directly. It was as though he still believed that what he had said was justified. He believed that keeping me alive, by any means necessary, was the only path forward.

I took a deep breath, my anger still simmering but no longer sharp. "I don't want to loose you." I said, my words slow and deliberate. "But I am still hurt."

Nikolai nodded, accepting that fragile peace for what it was. It wasn't forgiveness, but it was a beginning. Lila stepped closer to him, touching his arm gently as if reassuring him that everything wasn't completely broken.

Dante, still watching from the side, cleared his throat, drawing all of our attention. "We need to focus," he said, his voice steady but firm. "The rogues aren't going to stop, and Selene is still a threat. We need a plan."

Lila moved to his side, the two of them instinctively falling into their roles as the strategists, the ones who always thought a step ahead. There was a natural synergy between them, and though the tension in the room hadn't disappeared, I could feel a shift. We were beginning to work together again.

"We'll figure it out," Lila said, her voice calm, soothing. "But we need to make sure we're strong enough to face whatever comes next."

As they spoke about plans, contingencies, and possible allies, I could feel Nikolai's eyes on me, a quiet intensity radiating from him. Without saying a word, he moved closer, his hand brushing lightly against mine. My pulse quickened at the touch, the heat between us undeniable. He leaned in, his voice low and meant only for me.

"Come with me," he murmured, his eyes searching mine. "I want us to have a moment… away from all of this."

I hesitated for a moment, glancing toward Lila and Dante, who were already deep in conversation about strategies and next steps. They wouldn't miss us for a while. And, truthfully, I wasn't sure I could resist the pull I felt toward Nikolai any longer.

Without a word, I nodded, and he led me quietly out of the room. As soon as the door closed behind us, the tension in my body shifted into something else—something far more urgent, far more intense. We moved quickly through the hallways until we found a secluded space, hidden away from the others.