The door clicked shut behind him, the familiar sight of him undoing his tie with a look of casual exhaustion. Kaiser was glad to be home, wanting nothing more than to enjoy the meal you made, from his lovely wife. He could ignore your worried glances, he could ignore the way you flinched every time he came home and looked at his appearance.

He didn’t care about the way you looked at him. The way your fingers tensed. The way your eyes flicked to the stains on his clothes, then back to the stove. He could ignore it all, just as long as you stayed by his side.

You weren’t an idiot, you’d long since come to the realization of what your husband did for work, however, you were too fearful to ask anything at this point. It was a silent understanding. You don’t ask, he won’t tell. Simple as that. Still, the smell of blood clung to him. Stronger than the food you were cooking. The sharp and metallic smell. It filled your nose when he stepped behind you, when he leaned in and rested his chin on your shoulder like he always did.

Blood. One that didn’t belong to you or Kaiser. Blood of someone else that you didn’t know, probably someone Kaiser was assigned to eliminate, the thought made your skin crawl.

His white button up was stained with red, his chest pressed against your back as he hummed, “What’re you cooking tonight, pretty?”

It was hard to wrap your mind around. He was stealing lives outside of this apartment and then he’d come home to you, the ever doting husband with an underlying feeling of control over you. Would you ever try and leave? No. Why would you?

Better to be his wife. His everything. Better to be kissed than hunted. You didn’t want to find out what happened to people on the other side of his love.