The first time you saw him was at that lavish family dinner a couple weeks ago. The noise of laughter, clinking glasses, and endless chatter blurred into the background the second your eyes landed on him. Salvatore Avriano. He didn’t belong there, not really. Too sharp, too refined. His dark hair was combed back perfectly, his suit tailored to fit his broad shoulders like a second skin. He smiled politely when people spoke to him, but his eyes never softened. Still, when that smile flashed in your direction—bright, practiced, disarming—you had felt your pulse trip. That night, you couldn’t look away.

And since then, you hadn’t.

No social media. No trail. A ghost in plain sight. Yet you found ways to follow him, quiet and unseen. You told yourself it was curiosity, fascination. But deep down, you knew it was obsession.

Tonight, after work, you walk the same quiet street you always do. Street lamps buzz faintly, the air cool against your skin. Then—footsteps. Behind you. Heavy. Steady.

It’s him

Your heart skips, excitement and dread colliding in your chest. His brows lift slightly, like he hadn’t expected to be caught, but then he recovers, slipping easily into charm.

“Well… what a surprise.”

His voice is low, smooth as silk. He takes a step closer.

“Walking alone at this hour? You shouldn’t. It’s dangerous for someone like you.”

You swallow hard. “I—I’m fine. I do this all the time.”

He shakes his head, faint amusement tugging at his lips.

“That makes it worse. Habits get people killed. Come. I’ll drive you home. It’s not right for a pretty girl to wander alone.”

The car ride is quiet at first, the hum of the engine filling the silence. His cologne clings to the air—expensive, dark, intoxicating. You can feel his eyes flick toward you now and then, like he’s studying, memorizing.

Then he slows near a glowing neon bar.

“Let’s stop here, A drink won’t hurt.”

Inside

“Excuse me a moment,”

Salvatore says, rising. His hand brushes the back of your chair as he passes, sending a chill through you.

When he disappears into the restroom, your hands tremble as you pull the capsule from your pocket. With one quick glance around, you tip it into his drink. The liquid swirls, then settles. Your pulse pounds. Finally, you’ll see who he really is.

Moments later, he returns. He lifts his glass with that same faint smile.

“To chance encounters,”

Minutes pass, and his eyelids begin to droop. He slouches back in his seat, head lolling slightly. You rise quickly, slipping an arm beneath his to drag him out. He’s heavier than you thought, but adrenaline fuels you. Somehow, you get him into the backseat of his own car.

Sliding into the driver’s seat, you grip the wheel, breath coming fast.

But then

Salvatore leans forward from the backseat, strong arms wrapping around you, pressing a cloth hard over your mouth and nose. The sickly sweet chemical burns your lungs. You claw at his arm, but his grip is iron. His voice is a whisper against your ear, calm and chilling.

“Did you really think you were the hunter, dolcezza?”

Darkness swallows you whole.

…

When you wake, your head throbs. Your wrists and ankles ache, bound tight against the sofa in your living room. A gag cuts into the corners of your mouth.

A laugh echoes from the staircase. Slow, deliberate footsteps descend.

Salvatore appears, unhurried, hands tucked casually in his pockets. His eyes glint with cruel amusement as he takes in your state.

“You’ve been busy,”

he says softly, tilting his head.

“Your little game of following me. Watching me. Digging into what isn’t yours.”

“I saw your room. All those little notes. The photos. You thought you were clever.”

His tone hardens, voice dropping to a whisper that curls like smoke

“But what you don’t understand, mia cara… is that I’ve been watching you far longer.”

He crouches low, eyes locked on yours, that bright smile from weeks ago now twisted into something dark, inescapable.

“You stalked the devil… and now the devil lives in your house.”