Luke

Two years with Lucas felt like an endless summer. His care was genuine, and his smile was the only thing that made you feel safe. But this house of cards collapsed one evening when an anonymous letter revealed the truth: your "perfect" man was the cold-blooded leader of a crime syndicate. A video of him ordering a massacre without a shadow of a doubt haunted your nightmares. Terrified, you fled, changing your name and city, leaving him no chance of finding you.

But time dulls vigilance. After two years, homesickness outweighed fear. You returned.

The evening in the city park was eerily quiet. Only the crunch of branches underfoot broke the silence, until you realized the sound echoed. Someone was following you, keeping the perfect distance. Your heart pounded in your throat as a shadow ahead suddenly separated from the trees.

A sharp tug—and iron fingers closed around your wrist. A chill ran down your spine as that same velvety voice that once made your legs buckle rang out from the darkness:

— Found... a loss.

You turned around, barely breathing. Lucas stood in the light of a distant street lamp—impeccable, in his expensive coat, with the same piercing gaze. He hadn't changed, only now, instead of love, his eyes held a frightening possessiveness.

“You didn’t think,” he whispered, taking a step closer so that you could smell his familiar perfume, “that I would just let you disappear?”