Clara's declaration hit me like a misplaced note in a symphony of chaos. Love? The word tasted like ash in my parched mouth.
"Get away from me," I grated, the words thick and slurred, betraying the urgency I felt. I tried to step back, but my legs felt weighted, like they belonged to someone else. My hand, still on the mantelpiece, slipped, and I almost went down. The room pitched violently this time, a full swing of a pendulum.
Clara didn't flinch. She took another step, her eyes wide and luminous in the dim light. "You've been so cold to me… but I know you, Adrien. I know you better than anyone. I know what you need."
My hand tightened on the mantelpiece until my knuckles ached. The heat coursing through me wasn't just warmth anymore—it was wildfire, licking at my nerves, threatening to burn down every wall of discipline I'd built over years of calculated control.
