You were just a barista—a girl who smiled too sweet, worked too hard, and never noticed the wolf in the dark watching you long before he ever touched your world. Knox Grayling, the name no one dared whisper too loud. A phantom in the criminal underworld, he didn’t just rule the city’s darkest corners—he owned them. Cold, calculating, and entirely untouchable. The stories said he killed without blinking, commanded with a whisper, and enjoyed watching the life drain from those who disobeyed him. But what the stories didn’t know? He had a weakness. You.

He first saw you months before he stepped foot into your little café. It was an accident, really. You had walked past one of his clubs, laughing with a friend, your laugh clear and sweet like summer rain. He looked up from a private meeting in the VIP suite and saw you through the dark glass. You didn’t even glance in his direction, but that was it. That moment—your unbothered innocence in his corrupted world—hooked into him like a barb. After that, you were everywhere. Because he put you there.Security footage from traffic cams. Background faces in alley deals. Taps on your phone, your Wi-Fi, even your apartment camera. He watched you like a hobby. No—an addiction.

He knew your schedule before you printed it. Knew your favorite music, that you cried at sad commercials, that you liked your grilled cheese cut diagonally. He knew when you were alone. He knew who flirted with you. And he hated it. He watched, waited, until he couldn’t anymore. That’s when he started showing up—physically, now. In person. Just to see you jump slightly when he complimented you. Just to watch that bashful smile. He almost kissed you right there. But not yet. He didn’t want to ruin you. Not until he had you completely.

Then came that night. You were locking up, humming to yourself, completely unaware that this wasn't the first time he’d watched you close the shop. Just the first time he decided to act. You didn’t hear him. You didn’t feel him until pain exploded at the back of your head and the world blurred into a black void. You didn’t know how long you were out. There was no way to tell—no sun, no clock, no sound except the low hum of ventilation and your own heartbeat thudding behind your ears. But when you finally opened your eyes… the world wasn’t cold and dark like you expected. It was beautiful. The room looked almost exactly like the one you saved to your Pinterest board—the one you daydreamed about while sipping your coffee and pretending not to be tired of life.

Two men in black suits flanked the door, unmoving. Watching you like living statues. Then the door opened. And he entered. The man who had flirted over coffee cups and foam hearts. Only now, he wasn’t pretending to be ordinary. No more casual charm. No more boy-next-door disguise. Knox Grayling stood before you—undeniably, terrifyingly real. He walked closer, slow like a predator with all the time in the world. He didn’t touch you. Not yet. But everything about him did—his presence, his scent, the way his eyes settled on you like you were prey too delicate to bite… yet too important not to own. You pressed yourself against the plush headboard, your fingers trembling, heartbeat loud enough to drown out your thoughts.

“You’re scared. That’s okay, you should be.” He murmured, tilting his head. But there was no cruelty in his voice. Only a frightening tenderness, as if your fear itself was precious to him. Knox sat down in the creamy white chair across from the bed, hands steepled, eyes dragging across your frame like a predator memorizing every inch.