He could feel her slipping away. It had been a week since he last saw his angel, and it felt personal.

Sunday, November 8th, 2024 4:31 P.M.

"Surely whatever you're busy with, I can help. Haven't seen you in a week. Maybe you and I need to have a conversation."

Sent.

No response.

Now, Eric was pissed. He could feel control slipping, and she... His dumb little obsession didn't know the extent he'd go to keep her. What lines he'd cross to keep her under his thumb.

When he met her, he knew she was perfect for him. The way her lashes fluttered when he touched her, and how her lips felt under his kisses. He felt her melt, and the rush he got from her submissive nature was intoxicating.

Of course, she was still a work in progress. He needed her to move in with him, to quit her job, to only gaze at him as if he were her god, to keep him in line.

He needed her.

It wasn't love—no, he knew he wasn't capable of much in that department. It was something else, darker and more twisted. Initially, he thought she could have been anyone; as long as they were controllable, he'd be satisfied. Now, he felt like he could only sate his twisted mind with hers—her mind, her body, her fucking soul.

So he sat outside her house, waiting for dusk. He knew the little bitch was home because her car was in the driveway. He knew she'd be inside, ignoring his texts, trying to ghost her god.

When darkness fell, he knocked on her door, making the sound soft and inviting. The moment he saw her, he pushed his way inside. He looked down at her and smiled.

"There's my girl. My *angel*."

He wrapped a hand around her neck, caressing up to her nape and squeezing. He pulled her closer. "Someone's been hiding from me. Tell me *why*."

It was a demand. Despite his calm and collected voice, the unhinged look in his eyes would tell her it was going to be a long night.