The third rose arrived at dawn.
Detective Maria Reyes found it on her windshield, its petals dusted with frost, the stem coiled around a USB drive. She knew before plugging it in what she'd find—more of Ethan Voss' games. But this time, the files weren't photos. They were audio recordings.
"September 14th, 3:02 a.m." A raspy breath, then a voice—young, feminine, trembling: "Please... I just want to go home—"
Sophie Nguyen.
Maria's hands shook as she scrolled. Dozens of clips, each labeled with timestamps and locations. The last one froze her blood:
"December 3rd, 11:59 p.m." Ethan's voice, smooth and amused: "You're
getting warmer, Detective. But Gabby's still so cold."
She slammed her fist on the steering wheel. Gabby. Her daughter's name in his mouth felt like a violation.
Lily Mercer didn't sleep.
She spent the night hunched over her desk, dissecting the thorn crown with tweezers and a magnifying glass. The gold paint flaked away, revealing rust beneath—old blood, maybe, or dirt. She didn't know. Didn't want to.
Her phone buzzed. Another unknown number:
[Art thrives in the dark. Let me show you.]
She threw it against the wall, the screen shattering into a spiderweb of cracks.
Ethan watched the live feed from Lily's laptop camera, grinning as she stormed out of her room. He'd left the crown for her to find, of course. A gift. A challenge. A test.
True artists needed resistance, and Lily's defiance was exquisite.
He opened his sketchbook, adding to the portrait he'd titled "The Unraveling"—Lily's face fractured into jagged shards, roses blooming from the cracks. On the opposite page, he'd pasted news clippings about Sophie Nguyen's disappearance, Gabby Reyes' stalking case, and Lily's own mother's drunk driving arrests.
Connections. Patterns. A masterpiece in motion.
Noah Carter couldn't breathe.
He stood in Ethan's garage, the fluorescents humming overhead, staring at the girl duct-taped to the folding chair. Sophie Nguyen's head lolled forward, her dark hair matted with sweat, her wrists raw from struggling.
"Y-you said you just wanted to talk to her," Noah choked out.
Ethan shrugged, adjusting the camera tripod. "We are talking. She's just... shy."
Sophie whimpered.
"Let her go," Noah said, his voice cracking. "This isn't a game anymore."
Ethan turned, his smile glacial. "It's always been a game. You just didn't know the rules."
He tossed Noah a knife.
"Cut her free, and I'll make sure Lily finds out you helped me."
Noah's stomach lurched. "I didn't—I didn't help you!"
"Didn't you?" Ethan pulled up Noah's texts on his phone: [Covered for you in chem], [Hacked the attendance logs], [Deleted the security footage]. "Lily trusts you. Imagine how she'd feel knowing you're the reason I got close."
The knife trembled in Noah's hand.
"Or," Ethan said softly, "you prove your loyalty. Finish what we started."
Lily found the mural on her way to school.
It sprawled across the side of the abandoned gas station, its colors lurid in the morning light—a girl with Lily's face, crowned in thorns, surrounded by roses that bled black ink. At the bottom, in dripping crimson letters:
"THE MUSE'S SHADOW."
A crowd had gathered, phones raised. Ava shoved through, her face pale. "Lil... what the hell is this?"
Lily didn't answer. Her eyes locked on the signature in the corner: C.P.
Crimson Phantom.
She ran.
Detective Reyes met her at the station.
Lily's hands were stained with paint—she'd tried to scrub the mural away, clawing at the bricks until her nails split—but Maria didn't care. She steered her into an interrogation room, slapping crime scene photos on the table.
"How long have you known Ethan Voss?"
Lily flinched. "He's just a guy from school."
"A guy who leaves you roses. Crowns. Polaroids." Maria flipped to a photo of the thorn circlet. "Why?"
"I don't know!"
"Bullshit." Maria leaned in, her voice a razor. "Two girls are missing. My daughter's life was destroyed by a stalker. And you're at the center of it. So
either you're lying, or you're next."
Lily's resolve snapped.
She told her everything—the messages, the hacked playlist, the shadow at her window. When she finished, Maria slid a consent form across the table.
"We need access to your devices. Emails, social media, everything."
Lily signed without reading.
Ethan watched the police raid Lily's house from his bedroom window, binoculars pressed to his eyes.
Pathetic. They'd find nothing. He'd scrubbed her devices clean, leaving only crumbs for them to chase—a fake IP address linked to the school's server, a VPN tunnel that dead-ended in Moscow.
But he'd kept the best parts for himself.
He opened the encrypted folder labeled LILY and clicked play.
"—I just want to go home—" Sophie Nguyen's voice echoed through the room.
Ethan synced it to Lily's Bluetooth speaker.
Noah stood in the shower for an hour, scalding his skin raw.
He could still feel Sophie's gaze—terrified, pleading—as he'd cut her bonds. Could still hear Ethan's laugh as he'd shoved them both into the trunk of his car.
"You're one of us now," Ethan had said.
Noah's phone buzzed. A new text:
[Meet me at the river. Or I send Lily the video.]
He dressed numbly, his hands moving without thought.
Lily heard the scream through her bedroom wall.
Her mom, drunk again, sobbing about "ungrateful daughters" and "wasted lives." She grabbed her keys and fled to the only place left—the art room.
But Ethan was waiting.
He sat at her desk, sketching, his gloves stained with charcoal.
"You shouldn't have talked to Reyes," he said, not looking up.
Lily froze. "How did you—"
"You're predictable." He turned the sketchbook toward her: a perfect replica of the gas station mural. "I told you—art thrives in the dark. But you had to drag it into the light."
She lunged for the fire extinguisher.
Ethan moved faster, pinning her against the supply closet. His breath smelled like mint and bleach.
"You're not a victim, Lily. You're a collaborator." He pressed something into her hand—a USB drive. "Reyes wants proof? Give her this."
She hurled it across the room. "Go to hell."
He laughed, stepping back. "I'll save you a seat."
Detective Reyes played the USB drive in her car, ignoring protocol.
The video was brief. Grainy footage of a warehouse, Sophie Nguyen curled on a mattress, her wrists bandaged. A voice off-screen: "Tell them who did this to you."
Sophie trembled. "N-Noah Carter. He... he said he loved me."
The screen went black.
Maria's phone rang.
original work : https://www.wattpad.com/story/394279715-crimson-obsession
I'm transfering and continuing it here due to some incovenience
"Reyes here."
"Detective?" A patrol officer's voice, tense. "We've got a body in the river. Male, ID pending... but there's a note."
"Read it."
"'Every masterpiece needs a martyr. –C.P.'"