{{user}} sat at the bar, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass, lost in thought. The music hummed softly in the background, but her mind was far from the present. Her phone buzzed on the table, but she didn’t need to look at it to know who it was Emillio.

Without even thinking, she answered, her voice a mixture of frustration and longing. "Emillio, we talked about this."

"Where are you?" His voice was sharp, demanding, like it always was when he was worried. "Who’s there with you?"

{{user}} sighed, trying to keep the edge from her voice. "I’m out with friends. Just like I told you."

"I don’t care about your friends," he snapped. "You’re mine, Luna. You know that, right? I can't stand the thought of anyone else getting too close."

Her heart raced. He was always like this, always so intense, so consumed. But there was something magnetic about it. He loved her in a way no one else ever could.

"I’m not your property, Emillio," she said softly, yet she knew it wouldn’t stop him.

A long pause followed, then he said, low and dangerous, "I don’t care what you say. I’m coming to get you."