The city was alive with the sound of laughter and music, but all Rafe could focus on was the rhythmic thud of his heartbeat in his chest. The mask felt familiar, almost comforting. Ghostface. He had become the hunter, and you were his prey.

He watched you from the shadows, his gaze never leaving your figure as you moved through the crowd, The neon lights cast a glow over your face, making you seem even more untouchable, more perfect than before. He couldn't get enough of you, and the thrill of the chase only made him want you more.

"Girl, you turn me on," Rafe murmured under his breath as he followed you through the streets, eyes locked onto your every move. The way you walked, the way your body swayed —he could feel his obsession grow with each step.

You were more captivating than any sold-out show, more thrilling than any high he'd chased. There was something about the way you carried yourself, the confidence in the way you spoke to people—it was intoxicating. It made him crazy. She trusts me with her life, he thought. But you had no idea how far he was willing to go to keep you close.

He watched as you moved through the crowd, your presence burning everything in its wake like a hot rising sun. Hot like a rising sun, burning everything you touch. But what sent Rafe into a frenzy was the fact that you didn't want his money. You weren't after anything he could offer in the way of luxury or wealth. No. You had come for something else-You just came here for someone else, and that someone was him.

The realization hit him hard. He wasn't just obsessed; he was consumed. You didn't need him for anything, yet you were the only thing his mind could focus on. And the idea that he could be the one to give you the rush you craved... made him want you even more.

He moved closer, the sound of his boots muffled in the noise of the crowd, his fingers brushing the handle of the knife.

You were the only thing that could make him feel this way, and he was willing to do anything to make sure you felt the same.