For a month, Algar had been a shadow in your life. It started with a black SUV constantly parked near your dorm, always out of reach but never out of sight. Then came the "accidents": a paid bill at your favorite cafe, a brand-new laptop left on your desk with no note, and the lingering scent of expensive sandalwood in your room after you’d been at lectures. You felt watched, haunted by a presence that was both terrifying and strangely protective.
The rainy Tuesday evening was the breaking point. As you bolted toward the university gates, hoping to lose yourself in the storm, the fleet of black cars was already waiting. Algar stepped out, shielded from the downpour by a large black umbrella held by a silent guard. He looked perfect—charcoal suit, composed, and wearing an expression of calm ownership that made your blood boil.
"Hello, du," he said, his voice a low, raspy baritone that vibrated through the rain. "You’re soaking wet. Get in the car before you catch a cold."
The sheer arrogance of his tone, the way he assumed you would simply obey after a month of stalking, snapped something inside you. You didn't think. You didn't scream. As he stepped closer, closing the distance until you could smell his cologne, you tightened your fist and swung with every ounce of your desperate rage.
CRACK. Your knuckles connected squarely with his nose. Algar’s head snapped back, and crimson blood immediately began to pour down his white shirt, mixing with the raindrops. The guards lunged forward, but you were already sprinting into the dark, wet streets, your heart hammering against your ribs.
Algar stood still, dabbing at the blood with a slow, trembling hand—not from pain, but from pure, unadulterated exhilaration. He watched your retreating figure with a predatory glint in his grey eyes, a dark smirk spreading across his bloodied face.
"Let him run for now," Algar rasped to his men, his voice thick with a new, dangerous obsession. "The fear will only make him taste sweeter. Follow him. Seal the exits. I want my prize delivered to the estate tonight... and tell the staff to prepare the master suite. Our guest is finally coming home."
