Page 3 of Deranged and Obsessed Omnibus: Vol 1

They were right, but I knew how to play the game. I knew how to mimic so that I was deemed fit to be in society and not a threat to myself or anyone else.

Pulling me back to the present, the man staggered, drunker than shit, and probably unaware he was being stalked because he was prey tonight.

He reached out and braced a hand on the brick building, the alleyway he wandered and stumbled down smelling of garbage.

Someone threw a bottle in the distance, and the sound of breaking glass echoed through the alley.

“Who’s there?” he slurred and spun, losing his balance and sagging against the brick wall.

I said nothing, just stalked closer until I was a few feet from where he stood. His head lowered, his body involuntarily swayed from how drunk he was.

I was still so fucking hard, but my arousal had nothing to do with this man. I was aroused because I was about to take a life, and that’s what really got me off.

The man had no idea I’d been watching him. For weeks now, I followed and studied him. I learned every disgusting habit, every filthy secret he thought no one knew, and the ones he didn’t care if everyone knew.

This fucker wasn’t good at hiding anything—not from a person like me. No, men like him were sloppy and careless. They thought the world owed them something, that they could take whatever they wanted.

And this one... he was going to pay for it all tonight.

He played the part of a respectable and successful motherfucker, a face you’d pass on the street without a second thought or worry that he’d double cross you. But behind closed doors, he let his mask slip.

The abuse of his wife, the fear he inflicted on the people around him… it was something he had to pay for. It was somethingIhad to givehimto sate my dark beast.

Brandon Mackle wasn’t just violent; he was cruel. His wife had to hide her bruises, and his daughter flinched at the very sight of him. And this asshole got off on it—making the women in his life break one bit at a time.

And he thought no one would stop him.

But I would. Right now.

I wasn’t a savior. I was the devil, and I was here to make the world a shittier place for people like him.

Truth was… I didn’t care about his wife or daughter. Not really. I wasn’t here to protect them. I picked Brandon simply because he did shitty things to innocent people, so my actions, like what I was about to do, might be justifiable in others’ eyes if I were ever caught. Not because I needed to justify it to myself to kill a fucker.

But men like Brandon deserved to be reminded that the world was full of monsters worse than them.

And I was one of those monsters.

Hurting him wasn’t just something I wanted to do—it was something that Ihadto do. It was a necessity for my survival, because the compulsion and sick and twisted desire was a never-ending cycle within me.

Tonight, Brandon would feel truly powerless.

And I couldn’t wait to look into his eyes and watch as he realized he was about to die, then the light fade out of them.

“Hello, Brandon.”

Although my voice was low and deep, he heard me, felt my breath on his nape, and spun around, nearly falling as he hurried backward. He reached into his jacket, and I knew he carried a small knife with him. But no weapon would save him, not from the likes of me.

I let him pull the weapon out, and as he pointed it at me, I could see in his expression that he was trying to place where he’d seen me, whether or not he knew me, and what the hell was going to happen.

I kept enough distance to where his blade couldn’t touch me, but it wouldn’t matter if he cut me. The pain meant nothing to me when the result was his death.

I looked at his hand that was wrapped tightly around the handle, knowing he probably did the same thing to his wife’s wrists and neck as he hurt her.

My dark beast rose close to the surface, clawing to get out, my deranged and twisted need to kill intensifying.

I was sure—for just a moment—he thought he might get out of this. His fight-or-flight instincts were working overtime. But behind that façade, as I looked deep into his eyes, I could see he knew the truth. His eyes were wide and frantic as he gripped the knife like it could save him.

It was almost funny, really. I tilted my head, a smirk tugging at my lips. “You plan on cutting me with that, Brandon?” I asked, my voice laced with a casual indifference.

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