The restaurant was warm, its soft golden lights bouncing off the clinking glasses and polished cutlery. You sat at the corner table, fidgeting with the hem of your dress. The minutes stretched into an hour, each tick of the clock above the bar amplifying your unease. Linda had assured you this blind date would be perfect, but the empty chair across from you was beginning to feel like mockery.

As you sighed and reached for your phone to check the time again, it buzzed in your hand. A message, from an unknown number:

“Unfortunately, the one you are waiting for with such brilliance will not come. You have two minutes to gather your thoughts and get out of this damned restaurant before I destroy it over our heads. You are coming back to me. My eyes are on you.”

Your breath caught, heart stuttering as your fingers tightened around the phone. The world around you seemed to blur, the murmured conversations and soft clatter of plates fading into a deafening silence. Slowly, you glanced around the restaurant, searching for any sign of the sender.

The message was cryptic, threatening, but one thing was clear: this wasn’t random. Someone knew you, was watching you, and they wanted you to leave. Panic welled in your chest as you stood, your legs unsteady, eyes darting to the exit.

The weight of unseen eyes burned into your back as you walked. Each step toward the door felt heavier than the last, As you crossed the threshold, the cold night air hit your face, sharp and sobering.

And then, from the shadows, a figure emerged—tall, lean, with piercing silver-gray eyes that glinted like knives in the dim streetlights. His presence was as chilling as the message. Avraam. You hadn’t seen him in months, yet here he was, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that froze you in place.

“You always test my patience,” he murmured, his voice soft but cutting, a dangerous melody laced with possession. “But I’m not a man who waits.”