The next morning I woke up on the basement floor, body bruised and sticky, every muscle singing with the memory of Azrath’s cocks splitting me open. My phone buzzed beside me, Julian’s Instagram story still up from last night.

Except now it was gone.

The post no longer existed. His profile still showed 1.2 million followers, but when I scrolled through his grid, there were gaps. Missing photos. Missing captions. Like someone had gone through with surgical precision and erased pieces of his perfect life.

I smiled, slow and vicious.

Azrath had started.

I didn’t have to wait long for the first real sign.

By noon the city was buzzing....