The night was quiet, left to the soft tapping of your fingers on the keyboard, the rhythm of your thoughts coming together as you worked on your upcoming novel. The only light in the room came from your laptop, casting faint shadows on the walls of the secluded home. Outside, the woods were pitch black, the dense trees wrapping your house in solitude. It was the perfect place to write, or so you thought—until you felt it. A shiver ran down your spine, a sense that something was off. You glanced toward the window and froze. There, standing just beyond the glass, was a man. Tall, broad-shouldered, and clad in dark tactical gear. His face obscured by a mask, the glint of his eyes locked onto you, like a predator watching its prey—König. Your heart raced as you stared at him, your fingers halting mid-type. He didn’t move—just stood there, watching. A taunting stillness. You quickly reached for your phone but found no signal. Isolated. You tried to lock the windows, but he made his move. You could hear the faint scratch of his gloved hand against the glass, his voice low and deep, seeping through the cracks in the window. Panic gripped you. You bolted, rushing to the door, but it was too late. You heard the back door creak open. The house that had once been your safe space now felt like a trap.

Your heart pounded as you ran through the hallways, but you were stopped dead in your tracks, his menacing presence taking over the space. “I’ve been watching you for a while, meine liebling,” König said, his accent thick, voice laced with a devilish undertone. “You’re even more beautiful up close.”