I slipped out of the room as quietly as I could, the morning light filtering through the curtains in soft golden streams. My heart was still pounding from the encounter, the weight of his grip lingering on my wrist, and the echo of his warning sharp in my mind. I needed space, air—anything to keep the panic at bay.
I found myself in the sitting room, where the early sunlight cast long shadows across the floor. The room was bathed in a muted warmth, but it didn't calm me. I sat on the edge of the couch, my back stiff, rubbing my wrist absentmindedly as I tried to steady my breath. The tension coiled inside me, refusing to loosen.
Then, I heard it—a faint creak, like a footstep on the wooden floor. My body tensed, my head snapping toward the hallway. I listened, my pulse quickening, but saw nothing. The house was eerily quiet, except for the occasional birds outside. I tried to shake off the feeling. Houses make noises, especially in the morning. But then I heard it again, clearer this time—a whisper, too low to understand, but unmistakable.
A chill spread through my chest.
The sound wasn't coming from the bedroom where he slept. It felt closer, like someone—or something—was moving quietly through the house. My skin prickled, and a cold sweat beaded at the back of my neck. I stood up slowly, scanning the shadows creeping across the floor, my heartbeat thudding in my ears. The warmth of the morning sun felt distant now, like it had no place in the thick, suffocating air around me.
What was that?
A floorboard creaked behind me, near the doorway, and I spun around, my breath catching in my throat. I stared at the empty hallway, but I could feel something. A presence. It hung in the air, invisible but tangible, like I wasn't alone. My heart raced faster, my chest tight with a terror I couldn't explain. My body screamed at me to run, but I was frozen, my mind spinning with the dread of the unknown.
And then I saw him.
He stood in the doorway, bathed in the morning light, his tall frame casting a long shadow. I hadn't heard him approach—hadn't sensed him at all. But there he was, watching me, his dark eyes unreadable, his presence as unnerving as ever. There was something different about him, something I hadn't noticed before. His eyes… they almost seemed to gleam in the soft light, like they held a secret I wasn't ready to face.
"Did you hear that?" I asked, my voice barely more than a whisper. My throat felt tight, my breath shaky. He didn't answer right away, just stepped forward, each movement smooth and deliberate, like he was in complete control of the space around him.
"There's more to this house than you realise," he said quietly, his voice as calm as it was unnerving. "And more to me."
A shiver crawled down my spine. The way he spoke—it wasn't just about the mafia or the power he held in the criminal world. His gaze was fixed on me, and the longer I stared into his eyes, the more I realized how wrong everything felt. His presence was overwhelming, suffocating, as if the very air around him bent to his will. Something dark, something inhuman was buried just beneath the surface, and it was watching me from behind those eyes.
I swallowed hard, backing away instinctively, but before I could move far, he was in front of me. His speed—impossible. My head spun. He didn't touch me this time, but the force of his presence pressed against me, making it hard to breathe. His eyes locked on mine, and in that moment, I knew how powerless I truly was.
"You're not just trapped in my world," he said, his voice dropping to a soft, almost cruel murmur. "You're trapped with me."
His words were like a punch to my chest, cold and final. My legs trembled, and I stumbled back, my breath hitching. I rubbed at the wrist he'd grabbed earlier, a faint bruise forming where his fingers had been. I didn't dare make a sound. I couldn't. I just stared, frozen in fear, as he smiled—a slow, chilling smile that never reached his eyes.
"You've barely scratched the surface of what I am."
The words settled in the air, heavy with a threat I couldn't even comprehend. My blood ran cold, and I wanted to scream, to flee, but my feet felt glued to the floor. Every instinct screamed at me to run, but I knew there was no escaping him.