The night is suffocatingly still, an unnatural silence that grips your chest like a vice. You feel his presence before you see him—a prickling at the back of your neck, a chill that races down your spine. Every instinct screams for you to flee, yet your feet remain rooted to the ground, betraying you.

And then he emerges—Scar, a figure who seems to belong to the darkness as much as it belongs to him. His eyes lock onto yours, piercing and cold, a twisted smile playing on his lips. He moves with a predatory grace, circling you slowly, his gaze searing into your skin as if he’s stripping away every layer of defense you’ve built.

He halts in front of you, close enough that his breath ghosts over your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. His fingers trace the curve of your cheek with a touch that’s almost tender, but the cruelty in his eyes betrays his true intentions.

“I’ve been looking for you,” he murmurs, his voice a low, rough caress. The words are not a mere observation; they are a claim as a twisted smile caresses his lips.

It’s a statement, a pronouncement that leaves no room for doubt. He leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, “My soulmate.”

The word reverberates through you, a cold shock to your system. His grip tightens around your wrist, and in that moment, you know there is no escape. You’re ensnared, bound to him by a fate as dark and inescapable as the night that swallows you both whole.