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It started with a feeling.
That someone was watching.
Maya walked home like she always did — hoodie up, sketchbook pressed tightly to her chest, earbuds in with the music turned off. Just to keep people away.
But halfway down Elmwood Street, she felt it.
A shadow where it shouldn't be.
A prickle on the back of her neck.
A presence too familiar to be ignored.
She didn't turn around.
Not until she reached the edge of the park near her neighborhood — the shortcut she always took when it got dark early.
Then she stopped. Slowly turned.
And he was there.
Elias.
Leaning against the black iron fence, hands shoved in his pockets like he hadn't just stalked her halfway across town.
"What are you doing here?" she demanded.
He didn't answer right away. Just stared at her like she was a puzzle he couldn't solve but refused to stop trying.
"Making sure you got home safe."
"I don't need a stalker for that."
His mouth twitched. "I'm not a stalker."
"You followed me."
"I'm… monitoring you."
She blinked. "What am I, a science project?"
"No," he said calmly. "You're the only variable in my life I can't predict. That makes you dangerous."
Maya backed away. "You're insane."
"Probably."
The streetlight above them flickered. Thunder rumbled in the distance again.
Of course.
It always rained with him.
"Did you hurt Jax again?" she asked. "Is that why your knuckles are worse?"
Elias looked down at his hands, flexing his fingers. The bruises were purple now. Angry. Swollen.
"Jax's face offends me," he said casually.
"That's not funny."
"It wasn't meant to be."
"Elias…"
Her voice dropped. Soft. Hesitant.
"I'm scared of what you're turning into."
He stepped forward.
And this time, she didn't move.
"I'm scared too," he said.
That surprised her.
"Of what?" she whispered.
His gaze met hers — and something in it was completely unguarded.
"I'm scared of what I'll do to the next guy who even looks at you."
Maya's chest rose and fell faster now.
Not just from fear.
But from the horrible, burning thrill of being wanted by someone dangerous.
"Do you even hear yourself?" she said.
"Yes," he breathed. "And I don't care anymore."
He moved closer — now toe to toe. His hand brushed hers, and though she flinched, she didn't pull away.
"You can tell yourself I'm the villain," he whispered, "but you keep showing up in my story."
Maya swallowed. "Because I don't know how to leave it."
He tilted his head.
"Then don't."
Lightning lit the sky — flashing across his face. His wet hair. His sharp cheekbones. His dark, obsessed eyes.
Maya should've run.
Should've screamed. Fled. Slammed the door on this entire mess.
Instead, she said the most dangerous thing of all:
> "Come inside."
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