her scent -+- miguel ohara -+- ~~~~Complete

13 🕸️Stubborn Hearts🕸️

Hobie added, "Yeah, and sometimes running off and doing whatever doesn't exactly make things better."

Callisto glared at them, but there was a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. She didn't want to seem weak—she didn't want them to think they could control her. But at the same time, the last thing she needed right now was more fighting.

Jessica softened further. "We're not going to keep you here forever. Just... just take a breather. Relax. We're not your enemies. We're just worried about you."

Miguel, his voice low and calm, stepped forward. "We'll figure this out. I promise. You're not alone in this."

Callisto's gaze flickered between the group, the anger still simmering beneath the surface, but something about their words settled in her chest, making her hesitate.

With a deep breath, she nodded. "Fine," she muttered, "I'll rest. But this isn't over."

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The world around her shifted, distorting, warping as darkness closed in from all sides. She found herself standing in a cold, white room. It was sterile, empty. And yet, there was something wrong about it.

A man stood across from her, but his face was blurred, indistinct, and it made her uneasy. His voice echoed, distorted.

"You don't understand, Callisto. You're the reason it all went wrong. You're the one who ruined the event."

She tried to speak, but no words came out. The air around her felt thick, suffocating. The walls were closing in.

Suddenly, there was a flash—a vision. Miguel, looking at her with eyes full of anger, but also something deeper. Something she couldn't quite grasp. His claws flexed, his posture predatory. Stay away, he seemed to say with his eyes, but she couldn't run.

And then she woke up.

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The world around her shifted and distorted as she snapped out of the nightmare, gasping for breath. She was back in the Spiderbase... no, Miguel's office. The soft hum of the lights above her and the faint rustling of papers nearby reminded her of where she was. The cool surface beneath her cheek was unmistakable. She was slumped against Miguel's desk, the same desk she had been trying to avoid for hours.

The soft ache in her body reminded her of how much the tension had worn on her, but the worst part wasn't the physical discomfort—it was the lingering sense of dread, the nightmare's shadow that still clouded her mind. The visions of the mysterious man's voice telling her she'd ruined everything... and Miguel's eyes, dark with anger and something else she couldn't place.

She hadn't meant to fall asleep. But the team had calmed her down after she'd stormed off—well, lied to her a little, telling her to just rest, that they weren't going to hold her hostage.

It worked. A little too well.

Callisto slowly blinked and rubbed her eyes, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep. She straightened up, realizing she was now sitting in Miguel's office, where they'd told her to rest. She must have nodded off without realizing it.

Her heart gave a jolt as she suddenly felt a weight in the air, a familiar presence looming near her. She turned her head and saw Miguel standing just a few feet away, watching her with a mixture of concern and annoyance.

"You really can't sit still, can you?" His voice was a little softer than usual, but it was still laced with that unmissable edge of frustration. The light was dim around them, casting shadows across his face, making his expression hard to read.

She rubbed her eyes again, shaking off the remnants of sleep. "Guess I passed out," she muttered, pushing herself upright with a groan. "Didn't mean to fall asleep at your desk."

Miguel didn't respond immediately, his gaze flicking over to the clock on the wall, the minutes ticking by far too slowly for his liking. "It's fine. You needed rest," he said, his tone still guarded. "But don't make a habit of it."

Callisto stood up and stretched, her muscles protesting as she tried to shake off the nightmare's lingering grip. Her gaze flickered to the papers strewn across the desk, trying to focus on anything other than the disarray of thoughts still swirling in her mind. What had happened during that event? Why was he so upset with her?

But Miguel didn't seem to care about that anymore, his eyes still on her. He took a step closer. "You're alright?" His voice held an edge of concern, though it was well-hidden behind his usual cool demeanor.

"Yeah," she said softly, but there was something in her voice that hinted she was far from fine. "Just... weird dream."

Miguel nodded, though his eyes didn't leave hers. "Get some rest if you need it. But next time, don't wander off alone." His words weren't a command—they were a suggestion. But in Miguel's world, suggestions often carried the weight of orders.

Callisto couldn't quite find the right words to respond, so she just nodded. The room fell into a thick silence, the tension between them palpable. The questions from the nightmare still gnawed at her, but she wasn't ready to voice them just yet. Not when the man in front of her was still so unreadable.

Still, she couldn't deny the pull of something deeper, something undeniably dangerous between them.

"Maybe I'll get some real sleep later," she muttered, glancing toward the door as if trying to escape the moment, though she didn't really want to leave. She didn't want to confront what had happened, not yet.

Miguel didn't stop her, but his eyes flickered as she walked past him, his gaze softening only for a moment. He was worried. He knew she was, too.

And for the first time, Callisto wondered if this chaotic, messy bond between them was something that would ever fully make sense.

Maybe that was the real question she needed to answer.

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