Page 3 of Unhinged Obsession

My stomach plummets at the thought.

He nods once, slowly, and turns his gaze back toward the ocean as if he needs the distance to process what I’ve said. “I didn’t think they would be sending them until the semester starts,” he says quietly. His sharp jaw flexes, and I know he’s grinding his molars.

"I don't want them deciding my life," I admit quietly, the words slipping out before I can stop them.

"They won't," Elijah says at once, as if the answer is simple, as if his certainty alone is enough to make it true.

I look up at him, needing to see whether he actually believes it or if he's just saying it because it's what I need to hear. His blue eyes are already on me, steady and unwavering.

"They already did," I say, and even though my voice is soft, it feels like the truth lands heavier than anything else between us. “It’s very likely the Elders already know who I’ll be given to at the ceremony.”

Elijah shakes his head immediately; it’s a small, stubborn motion that doesn't leave room for argument. "They can decide whatever bullshit ceremony they want," he says, his tone sharpening just slightly now, frustration bleeding through the calm. "I have been stewing on this for months. Years, really. I won’t let them give you to anyone."

"Elijah—" I start, because we both know the repercussions. Even the Moretti name and money can’t protect Elijah from Onyx Dominion.

"No." The word cuts through my protest cleanly, in a way that makes it impossible to interrupt him. There is no hesitation in it, no space for doubt, just the kind of certainty that has always made people listen to him without question.

I never question him when he tells me something.

Elijah steps closer then, closing the small distance between us until he’s brushing against me. He’s so freaking big. It's such a simple contact, barely anything at all, but the familiarity of it settles something restless inside me, easing the tightness in my chest in a way I don't know how to explain.

"You're my best friend," he says quietly, like it's the most obvious thing in the world, like it has always been true and always will be. "Do you honestly think I'm going to let anything happen to you?"

The question catches in my throat, tightening around everything I want to say but can't quite manage to form. I want to believe him. God, I want to believe him more than anything, because believing him would mean believing that none of this has to end the way I already fear it will.

But the Society has existed longer than any of us, older than our families. And boys like Elijah—even boys born into families as powerful as the Morettis—don't get to rewrite traditions simply because they don't like them. Not when those traditions were built to outlast all of us.

Changes have been made in the past within the Society. It started off as one unit and then branched off into The Sinners, The Saints, and Onyx Dominion. The premise is the same, but the way in which they function is very different.

Another burst of shouting echoes across the rocks, cutting through our moment. I can hear Annabell screeching, but I can’t tell who she’s directing her outburst toward.

"For fuck's sake!" Benjamin’s voice is unmistakable. He sounds far more annoyed and bothered to be in the presence of mere mortals than anyone who has ever lived.

When I glance toward the sound, I realize that Annabell and Jonathan are out of sight. I finally spot Benjamin farther down the rocks where Paris is sitting beside him with her knees tucked against her chest. She's laughing at Noah’s crude hand gestures while Benjamin looks approximately one second away from throwing his brother into the crashing waves.

And despite everything, I can’t help it—I laugh too. The sound has barely left me when warm fingers slide gently beneath my chin. My heart stutters in a way I’ve never felt before.

Elijah turns my face back toward him with a touch so careful it almost doesn't feel real, and suddenly there’s nothing but the boy I’ve known my entire life standing in front of me.

Elijah’s eyes search mine with an intensity that makes me think he must be able to read my mind. "Hey," he murmurs, like the simple word is meant to calm me.

His thumb brushes lightly along my jaw, and I can't help thinking how strange it is that everyone on campus talks about Elijah Moretti like he's a lit match waiting for someone to strike. They whisper about his temper before he even walks into a room, about the way people move out of his path in the halls because no one wants to be on the receiving end of it, yet standing here, he's looking at me like I'm something impossibly fragile. There's nothing harsh in his expression now, nothing reckless or intimidating. If anything, he looks almost... gentle, and I think that's somehow more dangerous because this version of him is mine alone.

"You calm me down, little dove," he murmurs, his voice barely louder than the waves crashing against the cliffs below. "I want to have the same effect on you."

My chest tightens so suddenly that I have to look away before he notices.

"You already do." The words come out quieter than I mean them to, almost lost to the wind, and I immediately wish I hadn't said anything at all.

He doesn't let me retreat, though. His hand slips from beneath my chin to the small of my back, drawing me another step closer until the toes of my sneakers nearly touch his. Elijah towers over me, and somehow instead of feeling trapped, I only feel... safe.

“I’m going to fix everything. Do you trust me?” he asks softly. His hand remains steady at my waist, grounding me in a way that makes it harder to lie, harder to pretend I’m not suddenly aware of everything I’ve been trying to push down.

I shake my head almost immediately, the motion small and instinctive, because saying it out loud would make it real in a way I’m not ready to face. My throat tightens as I force the words out anyway, barely above a whisper. “Of course I trust you.” I can feel the weight of his gaze sharpen as if he already knows I’m hiding something. I swallow, looking away for half a second before adding, quieter still, “It’s stupid.”

“Tell me.”

I let out a slow breath, watching it disappear into the salty breeze before I finally meet his eyes again. “I know what happens after the Choosing Ceremony."