Warnings: a couple swear words, some creepy stalking, a bit of gore near the end, and plenty of shivers
Summary: Evie feels Indira needs a man in her life, so she sets her up with Hunter Grayson, a new co-worker. She has no way of knowing he's an obsessive stalker, or that he's killed three women in pursuit of the perfect mate.
She knew walking down the street alone was a terrible idea. Especially in these uncertain times.
But she'd thought Victoria was a safe enough place. Not too much crime, friendly townspeople, and plenty of stores to slip into if the need arose. Besides, she was armed with a good can of pepper spray. It was still unopened, but having it there was a comfort to her all the same.
She looked around, her dark eyes searching out the blackness around her, only barely lit by streetlights. Her hand gripped her purse tighter, holding it closer and more protectively than before. Her eyes darted back and forth, never wavering in their surveillance. It was almost as if her body instinctively knew danger was in the vicinity, and was preparing itself such.
She never heard him coming, even then.
He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her to him. She gasped in shocked outrage, trying to disentangle herself from her predator when she felt the sharp blade against her neck. She immediately knew who it was.
"You lied to me," he whispered into her ear. His voice, even muted, was dangerous and unpredictable. In the early days of their relationship, it had thrilled her. But now, it was the single most frightening thing she'd ever heard.
"You told me you loved me. But who was that man you were kissing at the bus stop today?"
Her breathing hitched. So he'd seen her.
"N-nobody," she managed to choke out.
He pressed the knife deeper to her throat, causing droplets of blood to rise to the surface as the teeth cut into creamy flesh. She winced in pain, but he ignored it.
"Liar," he hissed. He pulled away from her as if she was on fire. He threw her to the ground, and she touched her fingers to her neck quickly, feeling the blood drip from cuts. She looked up at him with disgust and abhorrence and fear.
"You're a sick bastard," she said cuttingly.
He smiled, a sadistic smile, the smile one usually wore when they were about to do something evil.
"And you're a cheating bitch," he returned, his voice as cold as the night air. He crouched in front of her suddenly, breathing in the floral scent of her skin. Her mind was screaming at her to run, to shout for help, but somehow, she was mesmerized by the beauty of his face. Those clear blue eyes, so innocent and naïve when she first met him. Now they were a hard, icy cobalt, unfeeling and uncaring.
"It's a pity, really. I liked you a lot. Maybe too much." He turned the knife over in his hands. "But if you won't love me… then you won't love anybody."
In one swift movement, he brought the knife down on her.
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