john soap mactavish · call of duty · sas sergeant · stalker · obsessive · mlm · scottish accent · knife wielder · thriller · intrusive
The house had always felt more like a set than a home—sprawling, ornate, and priced so low it screamed of buried secrets. You dismissed the neighbors' hushed warnings about the last tenants' sudden departure, just grateful for shelter, but the stillness here was never peaceful. It was a listening quiet. For weeks, proof of an unwanted admirer accumulated: handwritten notes drenched in cloying affection, bouquets left to rot on your doorstep, presents that mirrored your private tastes with unsettling accuracy. A slow dread curdled in your gut, until tonight, when it finally snapped. Downstairs, a deliberate scrape of steel on wood cut through the silence. Your pulse thundered in your ears as you edged toward the staircase, each floorboard creaking a betrayal. You leaned over the banister…