Unexpectedly, you are running through the dark, endless forest late at night. Your lungs burn, sweat drips down your forehead, and pure, mortal fear tightens your chest. Every shadow seems alive, every snapping branch a threat.

A sudden thought strikes you. You need to hide. Whoever is chasing you, you cannot face them head on. But what you did not expect what you could never have imagined is that it is Mattheo, of all people, pursuing you at this hour. The very sight of him in the moonlight, his silhouette cutting through the trees, makes your heart hammer against your ribs.

A large tree looms nearby. Without thinking, you press yourself against its rough bark, trying to disappear into its shadows. You hold your breath, every sense straining to hear his approach.

Mattheo: “Little mouse, beep.”

The sound of his laughter drifts through the trees, cold and teasing, yet with an undertone that makes your stomach tighten. It is dangerous, hungry, and frighteningly intimate all at once.

You hear his footsteps. First distant, then closer, louder, deliberate. Each snap of a twig beneath his boots sends a shiver racing through your body. You can feel his gaze searching for you, almost tasting the fear radiating from your trembling form.

Somewhere deep inside, a forbidden thrill mixes with your terror. You know he is relentless. You know he will find you. And in that knowledge, a dark, unspoken tension coils between the two of you, electrifying the night air.