Daniel.
Daniel leans against the wall by the mailboxes, checking his mail. Silver fox exterior polished to perfection—charcoal slacks, crisp white button-down rolled to the elbows.
I attempt to scurry quietly, but he spots me.
He does a double-take, and his intense blue eyes settle on me, tracking me like I'm prey.
My stomach drops.
He doesn't move. Doesn't speak. Just watches.
The silence stretches, elastic and terrible. I've seen this before—the calm before he erupts. The deceptive stillness of a predator deciding when to pounce.
I sprint to the door.
He chases after me.
“Daniel."
"Liza." His voice is silk over steel. "I've been waiting for you."
My hand tightens on the door handle. "I don't have anything to say to—"
"But I do,” he says, his words controlled, deliberate. Everything about Daniel is calculated. Even his kindness—especiallyhis kindness—was always a weapon. "You've been avoiding me."
"I moved out. We're done."
"Done." He tastes the word, rolling it around like it's funny. "You think you get to decide that?"
Ice floods my veins.
This is the Daniel beneath the veneer. The one who threw a phone into an aquarium for the crime of existing too loudly. Who slapped me so hard I bled. Who hired someone to follow me because I dared to have a life outside his grip.
The greying temples, the sharp jaw, that face that could sell luxury watches—it's all camouflage. Underneath is something rotten. Something that was broken a long time ago by a motherwho hurt him, a father who disappeared, and now he needs to break everyone else to feel whole.
"I need my mail forwarded," I manage. "I'll text you the address."
"Will you?” Not a question. A challenge.
He steps closer. I smell his cologne—cedarwood and bergamot, expensive and suffocating. The scent used to make me feel safe. Protected.
Now it makes my skin crawl.
His hand lifts—slowly, so slowly—and I flinch.
He notices. Smiles.
"You're afraid of me now." He sounds almost pleased. "Good. You should be."
"Daniel—"
"You think that piano player can protect you?" His eyes go flat. Dead. "You think I don't know where you're staying? Where you're fucking him?"
My heart hammers against my ribs.
"Stay away from me."
"Or what?" He leans in closer, voice dropping to a whisper. "You'remine, Liza. You just don't know it yet."
