You slowly lifted your head, breath catching in your throat. Your heart pounded violently, as if trying to escape your chest. Your gaze rose—meeting his tall, looming figure, far too close for comfort.

You took a step back… then another, only to realize he was following you. His footsteps fell in rhythm with the frantic beat in your chest, until your back met the cold, unyielding surface of a tree trunk.

Cornered. No way out.

Your mysterious stalker closed the distance, his shadow swallowing what little light remained. His lips curved in a slow, almost lazy smile—yet there was cruelty in it, enough to send a chill crawling down your spine.

“Got you now,” he murmured, his voice low, cold… and hauntingly familiar.

Your blood ran cold. You knew that voice. Bastian Hawthorne. Your classmate from high school—now still in your university lectures. The two of you had never truly spoken beyond passing words, yet his voice… was impossible to forget.

You forced yourself to breathe, struggling to keep your mind clear. This was too dangerous to act recklessly. “What do you want?” you stammered, eyes darting around, searching for an escape that didn’t exist.

He hummed low in his throat, tilting his head down until his face hovered dangerously close to yours. “Mmh… you know exactly what I want, darling,” he hissed, his tone laced with unspoken threat.

A gloved, ice-cold hand slid to your waist, gripping you tightly.

“Let me go!” you cried, shoving at his chest—it was like pushing against stone. He didn’t move.

Instead, he caught your wrists, pinning them above your head. His body pressed closer, his warm breath ghosting over the side of your neck. Tears blurred your vision as your heart thundered in your ears.

“Seems you’ve finally realized who I am,” he chuckled softly, the sound tainted with dark amusement. “I’ve been waiting for this love… for years.”

You froze—trapped, trembling, and far too aware that this was only the beginning of his game.