Page 36 of Silent Stalker

A waitress drops off menus, but I can't take my eyes off Clara. Her fingers fidget with the paper wrapper from her straw.

I lean forward, watching her face. "Did you like the gift I bought you?"

Clara's eyes go wide. "Oh shit." Her hand flies to her mouth. "The gift you gave me last night. Before you... I mean, we..." A blush creeps up her neck. "You didn't exactly give me a chance to open it."

"And this morning?" I raise an eyebrow, enjoying her squirm.

"I got that call about the crime scene and rushed out." She drops her head into her hands. "I completely forgot. God, I'm so sorry."

"I'm hurt." I press my hand to my chest in mock offense. "Here I thought you'd be thinking of me all day."

"I have been thinking about you." The words tumble out before she can stop them. Her blush deepens. "Just... not about the gift."

"Oh?" I reach across the table, running my finger along her wrist. "And what exactly have you been thinking about?"

I watch Clara fidget in her seat, her cheeks flushing a delightful shade of pink. The sight stirs something primal in me.

"Don't go there right now," she whispers, glancing around the diner.

I lean back, giving her space even as every fiber of my being wants to press forward, to make her admit her desires here in this public space. But patience has always been my greatest ally.

"Tell me something," I say, picking up a fry. "Does it scare you that I stalked you?"

Clara's eyes meet mine, steady and clear. "No."

"No?"

"I feel safe with you." She takes a bite of her burger, considering her words. . As she does, her scarf slips, and I see the marks I left on her neck. The sight tilts me off my axis. My heart pounding erratically. "Maybe I shouldn't, but I do."

The irony of her statement hits me like a physical blow. If she knew the truth, she'd run screaming into the night. Yet here she sits, completely at ease.

The strangest part? She is safe with me. I've killed ten people in the past week alone, but I would never hurt Clara. She's different. Special.

"You’re safe with me," I say, and I'm telling the absolute truth for once.

Clara's smile hits me like a physical blow. It is not the coy smiles she gives to hide her darkness or the polite ones she offers strangers. This one reaches her eyes and transforms her entire face. It is earnest and beautiful.

My chest tightens. The sensation is foreign and unwelcome. I've studied human emotions and learned to mimic them perfectly, but this... this feels different.

I grip my glass harder, trying to ground myself. The cold condensation against my palm should help me focus, but her smile lingers in my mind.

"What?" she asks, tilting her head.

I force my features to remain neutral despite the storm raging inside me. "Nothing."

But it's not nothing. That smile awakens something I thought was long dead or perhaps never existed; an echo of warmth, a crack in my carefully constructed walls.

I've killed without remorse. Planned each death with clinical precision. Emotions are tools I use to manipulate others, nothing more. Yet here I sit, undone by the curve of her lips, the light in her eyes.

The urge to flee wars with the desire to draw closer. I want to possess that smile, keep it locked away where only I can see it. But I also want to destroy it before it destroys me.

This wasn't part of the plan. Clara was supposed to be my masterpiece. Not this... this weakness spreading through my chest like poison.

I guide my car down the winding country roads, glancing at Clara's profile in the darkness. The heater hums, keeping us warm against the winter chill outside.

"Mind if we take a quick detour?" I tap my fingers on the steering wheel. "There's something I want to show you."

Clara shifts in her seat. "Sure, I'm not ready for the night to end yet."

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