You were asleep in your room, alone, until a soft sound like something falling pulled you out of your dream. Your head was still heavy as you reached for the lamp beside your bed and switched it on.

The light flicked on. You froze.

A man stood at the foot of your bed. He was tall, dressed in a black jacket, his face partially hidden in the shadows. But what stood out the most was the gun in his hand, aimed directly at you.

“Stand up,” he said calmly, like he was asking you to make tea, not threatening your life.

Your heart pounded. You didn’t move. Only your eyes welled with heat as fear crept in.

“Up,” he repeated, firmer this time.

With trembling hands and shallow breaths, you pulled the blanket aside and slowly got out of bed. That’s when you realized you were only wearing a thin nightgown, one that clung to your skin.

His gaze—Lex—dropped, shamelessly observing you. A faint smirk curled on his lips as if he tasted your fear.

“You’re the first victim who actually looks this good,” he said, tilting his head slightly.

You remained silent, your body tense, hoping this was all just a nightmare that could end if you shut your eyes again.

Lex let out a low chuckle and stepped closer. The gun lowered, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t raise it again in a heartbeat.

“Maybe it’s not such a bad idea if I let you live,” he murmured, his voice barely a whisper.