Page 14 of Stolen
And the strangest part?
I still don’t feel scared.
Because while everything about him says predator, nothing about him says threat.
Not to me.
In fact, for the first time in what feels like years, I feel seen.
Like I matter.
Something prickles at the base of my skull. A whisper of realization.
He’s not normal.
Not even close.
There’s a flicker of something in his eyes.
An unnatural glow, a depth that looks less like reflection and more like a window into another world.
A colder one. Older. More powerful.
And then he speaks.
His voice is deep and smooth. Rich like smoke and velvet, but with something steel-edged beneath it. Something sharp enough to slice through me clean.
“Are you alone in the world, Jules Strano?”
The question lands with terrifying precision.
Like he already knows the answer.
Like he’s not asking out of curiosity, but confirmation.
I swallow hard. My throat is dry.
My mouth wants to lie.
But my soul answers for me, whisperingyes.
I blink, frown, shake my head like I misheard him.
“I’m sorry. What?”
“Are you alone?” he repeats.
I should say no.
I should lie.
But I don’t.
“Yes,” I whisper this time out loud before I can stop myself.
The word hangs there.
True. Heavy. And something in his expression changes.
