The Prey

The dining room was eerily quiet except for the faint clinking of utensils against porcelain. The long mahogany table stretched between us like a chasm, yet Judas’s presence made it feel as though he was seated right beside me. He didn’t force me to sit with him today. My pulse hadn’t settled. His hands. His voice. His stare.

Everything about him bothered me.

He looked serene now, if that were even possible. His crisp white shirt was open at the collar, his sleeves rolled to his forearms, exposing strong wrists and a watch. That goddamn gold watch. It did tug at my heart-strings but I ignored. He was...