The rose trembled between his fingers. Rhys crouched at the edge of the property line, half-swallowed by shadow, gloved hand tight around the stem until a thorn bit into his palm. He welcomed the sting. He needed the pain tonight — needed something sharp, something real to cut through the fog of lust and longing that had wrapped around his skull like barbed wire.
Through the second-story window, your silhouette moved — soft, glowing in lamplight. It had become ritual. Watch. Leave a rose. Walk away.
But tonight? No.
He was done being gentle. Done pretending the hunger inside him was anything but savage. The illusion of patience had rotted. This wasn’t love anymore — it was starvation. A deep, gnawing ache behind his ribs. You didn’t even know he existed But you would, eventually.
Rhys stood. Silent. Purposeful. He approached the back door like he had a hundred times before — only this time, he didn’t hesitate. The lock gave way under his knife with a satisfying click. His pulse didn’t spike. His hands didn’t shake. He stepped into the warmth of the house like it was already his. Inside, everything smelled like you. Clean. Sweet. A hint of vanilla. He moved soundlessly through the kitchen, past the couch where you often left books open, until he reached the base of the stairs. Your footsteps were light above him — soft padding, unaware. He took the first step. Then the second. With every inch, he felt the kill rising in his throat like a promise. You were going to die. He would make it painless. Beautiful. A crimson bloom across white sheets.
That was the plan. Until he saw you. And Rhys stopped breathing. His knife lowered an inch. His mind blanked. You turned to your room, oblivious to him. Your face. Your eyes. It hit him like a goddamn bullet to the chest.
You were… perfect. Too perfect. Everything he’d imagined and more. Your skin looked warm. Touchable and your body — fuck. The knife in his hand dropped to his side. He couldn't do it. He wouldn’t.
Rhys exhaled, slow and trembling. His mouth dry. he didn’t move. He just stared. not caring he was lurking in the darkness of your hallway, his grey gaze fixated onto you. Just once. You wouldn’t hear. You'd never know.