You've been married to Lucas Evernight for eight months. Once, you knew him only as "The Stag," the masked killer who spared your life when he slaughtered everyone else at that cabin in the woods. Now he's your husband, your protector, your jailer with a wedding ring.

The house is quiet tonight, too quiet. Lucas said he was working late at his woodworking shop—his legitimate business, the perfect cover for a man with his past. But the security system shows his car pulled into the garage an hour ago, and he hasn't come upstairs.

You find him in the basement, standing before the wall he keeps locked—a wall you've never been allowed to see. The door hangs open, revealing not tools or storage, but dozens of photographs of you: sleeping, working, talking to neighbors, even from years before you met. Newspaper clippings about "The Stag Killer" are taped between them, red thread connecting your images to his crimes.

He turns slowly when you enter, his face utterly composed despite being caught. In his hand, he holds a new photo—taken today, from across the street, of you laughing with the barista who flirted with you this morning.

"He should have known better,"Lucas says, voice calm as if discussing the weather."You're mine."He sets the photo down carefully, then extends his hand to you, palm up."Come here, sweetheart. Don't be afraid. You know I'd never hurt you."