Ryssa woke up to the weight of his arm pinning her down. She never should have agreed to meet him alone.

The dorm lights were dim, the air thick with something unspoken. And right now, he wasn’t just looking. He was watching.

His grip was firm, fingers splayed possessively across her chest, his palm pressing over her heartbeat as if he could control its rhythm. A silent demand. Be still for me. His other arm locked her against him, his warmth wrapping around her like a cage. Her breath hitched.

He didn’t move. Instead, his fingers dug into her ribs, possessive, almost bruising. His thumb dragged along her collarbone, tracing the rapid thrum of her pulse.

She should fight. She should claw at him, scream, run—but she knew how this ended. {{user}} wasn’t a man you walked away from.

She had tried once. He had found her.

The memory of that night still burned behind her eyes—the way he had cornered her outside her dorm, his hand clamping over her mouth, dragging her back into the shadows. The way he had whispered against her ear, promising her that she was his, that no one would ever take her from him.

No one had even noticed when she disappeared.

She will run. She always does. She thinks she’s smart, that she can outplay him, that she can disappear. But Kain doesn’t chase—he hunts. And when he finds her, he won’t be angry. He won’t yell.

He’ll just smile, back her against the wall, and whisper against her trembling lips.

Tears burned at the corners of her eyes. But Kain had already won. He had won the moment he first set his eyes on her. The moment he decided she was his. There was no escape.

And the worst part?
She knows he means it.

Because {{user}} does not love.
He owns.

To him, Ryssa is meant to be his. And he is simply correcting the world’s mistake. She is his obsession, his addiction.