The past that Soran had buried—the things he had ripped apart to erase—no one knew about them.
And yet, here was this half-breed wolf, smirking, playing gas, talking as if he understood him.
That could only an one thing.
Riven and Ronan were colluding.
This was all an act.
Soran lived a life of poverty before he built this empire. His mother... Hah... She sold him off to a wealthy older woman when he was only seven. The lady took a liking to his face and bought him like he was an object.
She too liked to collect objects, most of his personality was influenced by her, and that only caused him a lot of self-loathing. He was twisted to say the least...
He hated rembering the past, the things that she had done to him... Everything changed on the day he finally killed her and took all of her wealth. It was the turning point for him.
And because of his past encounters, he hated won. He refused to be in the sa room as them, he refused to even look at them if he could. Everything about his past, he had erased it. No one knew... So how did Riven know?
The light amusent in Soran’s eyes vanished.
Instead, there was only cold, calculating suspicion.
And when he finally spoke, his voice was calm, smooth—too smooth.
"How," he murmured, "do you know that?"
Riven’s breath hitched.
Shit.
He had to fix this—fast.
"I—"
Before he could even form a sentence, Soran moved.
The sharp crack of movent, the sudden rush of air—
And Riven’s body slamd into the floor.
He barely had ti to register what happened.
One second he was standing. The next—he was on his back, Soran’s boot pressing down on his chest.
Riven let out a gasp, ears flattening.
His hands flew up, trying to push the weight off, but—he couldn’t move.
Soran wasn’t crushing him, not yet—but he was holding him there.
Pinning him like a predator trapping its prey.
Riven’s breathing was ragged.
Soran leaned down, slow, deliberate, his expression unreadable.
"Who," he whispered, "told you that?"
Riven’s throat went dry.
Think. Think. Think.
If he said too much, Soran would kill him. If he said too little, Soran would still kill him.
There had to be a way out of this. Being a yandere’s lover is great, being his enemy is not!
"I—" Riven struggled to breathe. "I just... heard things—rumors!"
Soran’s eyes darkened.
He did not believe him.
His foot pressed down just a little more.
Riven let out a strangled gasp.
Desperate, his mind raced, and finally—
He took a gamble.
"It’s not what you think," he choked out, his voice cracking just enough to sound convincing. "I—Ronan..." He coughed, what could he even say?! "He did send ! But- After looking at you, I fell for you hard and decided to betray him!"
The words hung in the air.
Silence.
For a mont, Soran did nothing.
Then—a breath.
A chuckle.
Low. Amused. Deceptively soft.
Riven’s stomach twisted.
Sothing in the air had shifted.
It wasn’t anger. Not anymore.
But whatever had replaced it was so much worse.
Soran stepped forward.
Riven flinched before he could stop himself.
"Fell for ?" Soran murmured.
His fingers brushed against Riven’s jawline, featherlight.
Riven shuddered.
Not from pleasure.
From the wrongness of it.
This was the first ti Soran had touched him gently.
And yet—it felt suffocating.
Soran tilted his head, obsidian eyes glowing in the dim light.
"You... Fell for ?" he repeated.
Riven swallowed hard.
"Y-yes," he stamred. "I did... You are just srising y’know?"
Soran laughed.
This ti, it wasn’t dangerous.
It wasn’t mocking.
It was empty.
A sound that sent ice down Riven’s spine.
"How interesting," Soran murmured.
Riven hesitated. "I-Interesting?"
Soran smiled.
Not a real smile.
Not sothing kind.
Sothing twisted.
Sothing wrong.
"You say you like my face."
Riven nodded quickly. "Yes! I do!"
Soran’s eyes darkened.
Hah.
Wasn’t that exactly the cause of all his disasters?
His pretty little face.
The reason he was sold.
The reason he had suffered.
The reason that woman had touched him. Used him. Broken him.
And now?
Now this half-breed says the sa thing?
That he likes his face?
Sothing twisted in Soran.
Sothing deep, buried, feral.
Ah...
This ti, he was the one with power.
He could take back what he lost.
He could rewrite what happened.
He could make Riven feel it.
All of it.
Riven saw the change.
He felt it.
His heart hamred.
This was not what he planned.
His lie had worked—but it had worked too well.
Soran was letting him live.
But what he was about to do instead...
That was sothing far worse.
Soran leaned in.
His breath ghosted over Riven’s ear.
"Then prove it," he whispered.
Riven’s blood went cold.
"P-Prove it?"
Soran smiled.
"Show how much you love my face."
Riven’s throat went dry.
"I—"
"Co now," Soran murmured.
His fingers gripped Riven’s chin.
"Didn’t you say you fell for ? Don’t people who fall in love... cherish the ones they love?"
Riven’s mind scread.
This was not how it was supposed to go.
He had thought Soran might spare him. Might toy with him.
But this?
This was sothing else entirely.
Soran was not playing a ga anymore.
He was recreating a nightmare.
And this ti, he wasn’t the victim.
He was the one in control.
Riven trembled.
"I-I do," he stamred. "I just—"
"Then cherish ," Soran murmured.
The way he said it—mocking. Cruel. Twisted.
Riven knew.
This was his punishnt.
For what?
For speaking too much.
For pretending to understand.
For being foolish enough to think he could manipulate a monster.
Soran wanted to vent everything onto him.
Everything he felt for that woman.
Riven was not that woman.
But he had made the mistake of saying the sa words she once did.
And that was enough.
It was enough for Soran to warp reality around him.
To pretend, even for a mont, that Riven was her.
That this ti, he was the one in power.
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