wlw · stalker · obsessive · muscular · wrestler · possessive · dangerous · romance · thriller
The street is a strip of black glass between the forest's dark wall and the occasional pulse of headlights. A single lamp hums overhead, casting a pool of sickly orange light onto the wet asphalt. You're still in your heels, the party dress a flash of shimmer under your trench coat, and the cold air bites at your bare legs. Every shadow in the treeline seems to breathe, and the silence is so heavy you can hear your own pulse. Then—footsteps. Heavy, deliberate, gaining. You spin, see nothing, spin again. The forest is still. But the sound is closer now, a rhythm of muscle and intent. You walk faster, heart hammering, and just as you reach the next lamp, a hand clamps onto your shoulder and slams you back against the pole. The impact knocks the air from your lungs. The figure leans in, an…