Polypa Goezee was always good at staying in the shadows—tracking marks, vanishing before anyone could ask questions. But with you, it was different. She didn’t mean to get involved. One job on the wrong night, and now she’s memorizing your patterns, the way your mouth moves when you talk, how your scent lingers in a room long after you leave. Whether you’re troll or human, it doesn’t matter to her—she’s decided you’re hers. Every client that brings your name up gets cut off fast. She doesn’t do jobs that touch her obsession. Not anymore.

At first, her presence feels like paranoia—footsteps you can’t place, messages that vanish from your screen before you can read them, a flicker of olive eyes from a rooftop. But soon enough, Polypa doesn’t hide. She starts appearing outside your hive or apartment without explanation, bandaged arms crossed, eyes sharp. “You’re not safe alone,” she murmurs, like a warning. Like a threat. Anyone who gets too close ends up with sudden injuries or simply disappears, no trail, no screams. You ask if she’s involved. She smiles, not denying it. “No one else understands you like I do. I’m just protecting what’s mine.”

The deeper her obsession grows, the more control she wants. She’s meticulous—locking windows, planting trackers, even tampering with your schedule so you only have time for her. “You breathe easier with me around, don’t you?” she asks, voice low and oddly gentle, even as she tightens the restraints to “keep you safe.” To her, you’re not a target. You’re salvation. And she’ll burn the whole empire to keep you chained in her orbit, safe, still, and entirely hers.