Ethan’s POV

The city never slept, but it bowed when I passed.

From the back seat of my SUV, the glow of Manhattan lights flickered over my knuckles — still stained with someone else’s blood. The body from earlier would already be gone, dissolved into nothing like every other disloyal idiot who crossed my family.

But she…

Maya.

She wasn’t supposed to exist in my world.

A witness should have been silenced. Quickly. Efficiently.

Instead, I had stayed her execution with a single look.

I didn’t understand why. That irritated me.

I hated the unfamiliar.

My men spoke quietly in the front, voices cautious because they could feel it — the shift in me. They saw the way I watched her as she ran. The way I let her live.

A reckless decision. Uncharacteristic.

And yet, my mind refused to let go of her.

Her eyes — wide, trembling, defiant even in fear.

Her voice — cracking but brave.

Her taste — no, not yet… but I imagined it anyway.

She’d seen a monster.

And still… she had looked at me like I was human.

That was the problem.

My phone buzzed. Nico, my right hand.

“We tracked her,”

he reported.

“Maya Wilson. Twenty-five. Lives in a rundown apartment in the East Village. Works two jobs — waitress and bookstore clerk. Debt from student loans. No family left in the city.”

My jaw ticked.

Ordinary.

Simple.

Breakable.

A woman like that shouldn’t be anywhere near me.

But I had already decided she would be.

“Tell me more,” I ordered.

“She keeps to herself. No boyfriend. One coworker tries too hard — the guy from the restaurant. Antonio something.”

Heat stabbed through my chest — sharp, unfamiliar.

Jealousy.

Ridiculous. Primitive.

But the image enraged me — that slimy idiot standing too close to her, thinking he had a chance. Thinking she was free to touch.

Maya Wilson didn’t belong to him.

She didn’t belong to anyone.

Yet.

My voice was ice.

“Make sure he stays away from her.”

Nico hesitated.

“Boss… how far do you want me to go?”

I pictured Antonio’s hands anywhere near her.

I saw red.

“Break something he’ll remember,” I said. “Not his neck. Just his pride.”

Nico nodded grimly.

“Understood.”

Control.

That was what I needed.

And she would give it to me whether she understood that yet or not.

Little doe.

That’s what she was.

Would she run from me?

Of course.

Would I let her get far?

Never.

Later, in my penthouse, I poured whiskey over ice and stared out at my city. Power was a familiar weight on my shoulders — one I wore easily. But tonight, it felt different.

The room was too quiet.

My thoughts too loud.

What was it about her?

Fear? Innocence? Mouth begging to be kissed? Neck meant to be marked?

I didn’t know.

And that was the exact reason I needed to know.

I grabbed my suit jacket, calling to the night.

“Maya Wilson,” I whispered to the silence, “let’s see what cage you belong in.”

Hours Later — Outside Maya’s Apartment

I watched from the shadows as she stepped off the subway — tired, jacket not nearly warm enough, weaving through late-night crowds who didn’t care that she was shaking. Her apartment building was pathetic — broken lock on the door, lights flickering, water stains on cracked walls.

I could fix that.

Her key slipped once before the lock turned. She exhaled a shaky breath when the door clicked shut behind her.

She thought she was safe.

I leaned against a streetlight and lit a cigarette — smoke curling around me like the devil’s grin.

“Boss,” Nico muttered into my earpiece, “if you go any closer, she’ll notice.”

“And if she notices?” I asked softly.

“She’ll be terrified.”

I smiled.

“She already is.”

Not enough.

Not of me. Not yet.

Inside her apartment, lights went on. A small space — peeling wallpaper, secondhand furniture, a bookshelf stuffed with worn paperbacks. She tossed her bag aside, rubbing her arms like she was trying to erase the memory of tonight.

She sat on her bed — the mattress squeaking beneath her. Her head fell into her hands. Shoulders trembling.

Fear clung to her.

That should have pleased me.

Instead… something darker stirred.

I wanted to go inside and take every fear out of her head — erase every nightmare and replace it with myself. I wanted to be the only thing she thought about.

Was that obsession?

Maybe.

I’d forgotten the difference between desire and hunger a long time ago.

Tonight — I chose hunger.

She suddenly jerked her head up, eyes darting toward the window as if she felt me watching.

Good.

Instinct.

A connection animals only have with their predator.

I stepped closer, just enough to let the streetlight outline my silhouette. Her gaze locked on me through the thin curtains — confusion turning into terror.

Beautiful.

Her lips parted.

Her breath caught.

She recognized me.

I lifted two fingers to the glass — a silent order.

Close the curtains.

Her chest rose and fell rapidly, but she obeyed, sliding the curtains shut with trembling hands.

Good girl.

She might fear me, but she listened.

My phone buzzed again.

“We need to go,” Nico urged. “Police activity has increased after the hit.”

I took one last look at the window.

Soon, little doe.

Soon.

Back in the SUV

“Keep someone on her at all times,” I instructed. “If anything touches her — if anyone even looks too long — I want to know.”

Nico nodded. No hesitation. My obsession was becoming clear — and unquestioned.

“And Nico,” I added.

“Yeah, boss?”

“If she gets scared enough to run… let her.”

Confusion flashed.

“Let her?”

I met his gaze, my voice low and certain.

“I’ll always find her.”

As we drove off, I finally understood one thing:

I didn’t spare Maya because I was merciful.

I spared her because she was already mine.

And nothing — not fate, not fear, not a thousand enemies — would take her away from me.

She just didn’t know it yet.

But she would.

Soon.