Tied to You

The workshop was supposed to be a safe place. A controlled space. A place where expectations were clear and boundaries were respected. I told myself that over and over as I stepped inside, shaking off the exhaustion that clung to my bones.

My bag felt heavy on my shoulder, the familiar weight of neatly coiled rope and rings pressing against my side. I had spent months practicing alone, studying techniques, perfecting the tension and flow of knots with my own hands. I didn't need a partner. Didn't deserve one. But having the tools meant something-proof that I belonged here, even if I stayed on the outskirts.

The room was dimly lit, the warm glow of overhead lights casting soft shadows against the black walls. Low voices murmured around me, the sound of rope sliding against skin, of quiet instruction being given. I inhaled deeply, grounding myself in the familiarity of it all. The scent of leather and faint traces of sandalwood calmed my nerves-this was normal. This was fine.

Except I wasn't fine.

I was running on barely three hours of sleep, and Jace's voice still echoed in my head. God, you're acting like I'd hurt you or something. My stomach twisted. I shouldn't be here. I should be at home, locking my door, pretending I was still in control of something.

But I'd come anyway. Because I needed to prove-to myself, more than anyone-that Jace didn't own my mind, my fear, or my body. I needed to feel normal again.

I forced myself to move deeper into the room, slipping past a group watching a demonstration. I wasn't here to participate. Not tonight. I just wanted to exist in this space again without feeling like I was coming apart at the seams.

I exchanged a few words with familiar faces, but the interactions felt distant, like I was watching myself from outside my body. When someone gestured toward an open space for a rope demonstration, I shook my head with a small smile. Not tonight. They didn't push, and I was grateful for it.

It wasn't until I reached the back of the room that I felt it.

A shift in the air, a sudden weight in the atmosphere, the way the space between them felt charged, waiting.

My body reacted before my mind caught up-pulse skipping, breath hitching. Slowly, my gaze lifted, scanning the room, and then I saw him.

Knox.

Was this just a coincidence? Had he been there for someone else? Or had he come just for me?

He stood near the far wall, half-hidden in the shadows, arms crossed over his chest. Watching. Waiting. His expression was unreadable, but something about the way he held himself sent a shiver down my spine.

How long had he been here?

My heart thudded against my ribs. He didn't move, didn't make any effort to acknowledge me beyond that unwavering stare. But I knew. I knew he was here because of me.

Heat coiled low in my stomach, a sharp mix of unease and something else I refused to name. I forced myself to turn away, to keep moving, but the weight of his gaze followed me. Every shift of my body, every breath, I felt him.

Someone brushed past me, too close, and before I could even react, they took a sudden step back-eyes flicking toward Knox, then away. I didn't have to turn around to know he'd moved. Not much. Just enough to make his presence known.

My throat tightened. He wasn't stopping me. But he was making sure everyone else did.

I clenched my fists and exhaled, willing myself to ignore the way my skin prickled. I could pretend this was fine. I could pretend I wasn't hyper-aware of every second passing with him in the room.