The corner of my mouth lifts beneath the mask even now at the memory. That moment we shared will stay with her. I know it will. Curiosity is already eating its way through her mind like a slow-acting poison.
She still doesn’t know exactly who I am. My real name. What my face actually looks like beneath the shadows. We will get there. Slowly.
The restraint I have to maintain is unbearable. Patience has never been a problem for me. It’s the foundation of everything I do. Every hunt. Every kill. Every move planned meticulously before the blade even touches the skin. But with her, the impossible is happening. I am losing my grip on that cold, perfect logic.
From the moment I saw her standing under those sterile morgue lights, I knew she would be mine. And she will be. Very soon.
Because my cock twitches every single time she looks at me. Touching her tonight took every ounce of control I possess. The urge to throw her over my shoulder and disappear with her into the night was a physical ache. Fuck. She’s ruining me.
After I was sure Lucy and her got home safely, I headed straight to my car. Anticipation moves through my veins like a drug.
My car is parked a few blocks away from the hotel, hidden near the edge of a dark forest where streetlights don’t quite reach. Discreet.
I open the trunk. He’s still unconscious. Not that I expected anything else. I've stuffed his mouth with his own tie, bound his arms behind his back, tied his legs tight enough that even if he woke up, he wouldn’t be able to move. Efficiency is a habit.
His cheek is already swelling from the punch I threw to shut him up earlier. Let’s just say I wasn’t particularly gentle. What he doesn’t realize yet, it’s about to get so much worse.
I close the trunk and drive back to my apartment. It’s secure. Hidden. Untouchable. Inside, there’s room most people would mistake for something surgical. Cold lighting. Stainless steel surfaces. Soundproof walls. Not because I torture people. I usually don’t. Unless it’s necessary. Or requested.
Some clients of mine demand… specific things. Deformities. Messages left in flesh. Warnings carved into bone. They rarely explain their reasons. I rarely care. I deliver results.
But tonight, this room serves a different purpose.
I drag his body from the trunk and haul him inside, strapping him into the metal chair bolted into the center of the room.
My pulse sharpens the moment I slap his face. Once. Twice. Three times. His head lolls before his eyes finally snap open in a confused panic. Good.
That motherfucker has absolutely no idea what’s about to happen to him. And that’s exactly how I want it. I want him to feel it first. The fear. The suffocating realization that he’s trapped. Swallowed whole by the same darkness my sweet girl must have felt when she was with him.
And I don’t mean that just theoretically. I will do everything in my power to make it happen. Because I know what he did to her.
Not just the screaming. Not just the manipulation. He hit her. The thought alone makes my jaw tighten hard enough to crack bone.
It happened before I even met her. Before she became the center of my universe. But that doesn’t matter. I’ll gladly punishanyone who has ever laid a hand on her. Past. Present. Future. No, not present or future. Because no one is touching her again. Not with me standing between her and the world. I’m her shadow now. Her reflection. And shadows don’t disappear.
My gaze returns to the man strapped to the chair. He’s breathing fast now. Trying to process where he is. Who am I. What’s coming.
I lean closer, resting my hands against the cold metal armrests of his chair.
“You’re going to lose something tonight.” I say calmly.
His eyes widen.
“Not your life.”
Not yet.
“Your senses.”
Confusion flickers across his bruised face. I almost smile.
Vision. Hearing. Smell. Taste. Touch. Even balance. One by one.
I’ll strip them away until he’s left with nothing but the inside of his own head. And that’s where the real torture begins. Because when a human loses every connection to the outside world, their mind starts eating itself alive.
It doesn’t take long. Not weeks. Not days. Hours. Panic. Hallucinations. Begging for anything. Even death. And eventually, he will beg me to kill him. And when the right time sets in. I will.
After this, Jake's consciousness leaves him again. Pussy. I slap his face harder this time. His eyelids twitch first. A low groan escapes his throat behind the fabric stuffed in his mouth as consciousness crawls back to him.
