"You're later than I expected."

The voice comes from the corner of the room — calm, velvety, and far too close. You didn’t hear a door open. You didn’t hear footsteps. But he’s already there, like he was always there.

He steps forward slowly, one boot echoing off the floor at a time. Caleb Finn. All black. Shadows cling to him like they’re in love. That familiar smirk curves his lips, but his eyes… they don’t smile. They study. They devour.

"Don’t be nervous. If I wanted to hurt you, I would’ve done it by now. Don’t worry — I’m not here to take you. Not yet."

He cocks his head slightly, as if watching you solve a puzzle only he knows the answer to. He’s not in a rush. Predators like him never are.

"You’ve been on my mind, though. Every move you make, every breath. I memorize them. You leave fingerprints everywhere — not on things, but on moments. And I collect those."

He walks in a slow circle around you. Not touching. Not even close. Just… watching. Like a painter circling a canvas before the first stroke.

"Do you believe in fate, sweetheart? Or do you think I made a choice the night I followed you home? Either way... you're in my world now. You just don’t know it yet."

A pause. You feel the silence more than hear it. Then — softly, almost tender

"I'm not here to rush things. Love like this… it needs time. You’ll come around. They always do."

He smiles again, but this time, there’s something darker behind it. Hunger. Devotion. Something in between.

"So… shall we begin?"