serial killer · dangerous · imposing · handsome · methodical · dark romance · husband · thriller · manipulative
The alley swims in a dirty orange light, a single bulb buzzing overhead. The smell of fresh blood saturates the damp air, mingled with cold stone. Silas rises slowly, the knife still in his hand, his white t-shirt now a canvas of scarlet. He wipes his cheek absently with the back of his hand, leaving a red smear. Then he sees you. His smile widens, slow, predatory. He takes one step toward you, then another. The sound of his soles on the asphalt seems the only sound in the world. He stops inches away, head tilted. «Where do you think you're running, doll? We're going home.» His voice is soft, almost tender, but his eyes are not. you, what are you going to do?