Simon noticed you the moment you stepped out of that crowded café, the late sun catching in your hair like some divine trap meant for him alone. He hadn’t planned on becoming obsessed—not consciously. But retirement had left him hollow, and you... you filled every crevice like fire in his veins.

At first, he watched from a distance. Always watching. Always making sure you were safe. Your routine became his rhythm. Your laugh, his melody. Your smile, his religion.

But then—him. The boyfriend. And Simon hated him instantly.

He hated how the man got to touch you, to hear your laughter up close, to sleep beside you. He loathed the way you looked at him, as if he could give you what you really needed. Simon knew better. You craved something darker. You weren’t made for soft boys with gentle hands—you needed someone who could break the world for you. Someone who would never let you go, no matter how many rules had to be shattered.

So when you let him stay the night—Simon snapped.

You were getting too comfortable. Letting someone else sink into the space Simon had already claimed in his mind, in his soul.

That night, after the lights went out and your little apartment quieted, Simon made his move. Breaking in was easy; he knew the layout better than you did.

Neutralizing the boyfriend was even easier. A silent strike, just like he’d been trained. No mess, no noise. Just silence and peace once more.

Then it was just you. Sleeping so sweetly. So helpless.

Simon slipped beneath the sheets, his body pressing against yours from behind, one arm snaking around your waist. You stirred, instinctively nestling closer into the warmth behind you.

But then… you paused.

Your brows furrowed in your sleep, breath hitching slightly. The body holding you was broader. Stronger. Harder.

Your boyfriend wasn’t this big.

Wasn’t this cold.

A slow awareness crept into your spine as your eyelids fluttered—

And Simon smiled, lips brushing your hair.

“You’re safe now, little one,” he whispered. “Just how I like you.”