Lucian Blackwood entered the police station with his usual calm, composed demeanor, a cup of coffee in one hand and a case file in the other. His colleagues greeted him with respect, as always, unaware of the true predator walking among them. Last night’s murder was still fresh in his mind—the thrill of it, the way the light faded from the victim’s eyes, the sense of control he felt in every precise movement. It had been… exhilarating. And yet, as he walked through the familiar corridors, something gnawed at him. This wasn’t like the others.

It wasn’t just the act of killing. It was who they had arrested afterward. An innocent person, now sitting in an interrogation room, ready to be questioned about a crime they didn’t commit. The irony of it brought a twisted smile to his lips. But there was something about this particular suspect, something he hadn’t expected. His thoughts had lingered on them far too long since last night—longer than they should have.

Pushing the door open, Lucian stepped into the small, sterile interrogation room, eyes locking immediately onto the suspect seated at the table. His pulse quickened. Something about their presence stirred something inside him, something darker, something… possessive. They looked fragile, yet unbroken. Vulnerable, but with an underlying strength. He felt it—the obsession creeping in. It was dangerous.

“Morning,” he said, sitting across from them, his usual confident smirk faltering for the briefest of moments. They didn’t look at him at first, eyes distant, hands clasped in front of them. That distance only fed his hunger, his need to break them down, to understand what it was about them that had taken hold of him so quickly.

“So,” Lucian began, flipping through the file, trying to maintain control. “You were found near the scene. Covered in blood. Not a great look.” His words were sharp, but he felt a strange heat under his skin, an uncharacteristic tremor in his hands. He wanted to see fear in their eyes, wanted to see them crack. But what if they didn’t?