The Prey

A week had passed since I stumbled out of his bathroom, breathless and shaken. My head was a mess, my body barely holding itself together. I could hardly recall the next half hour—only that Judas had dismissed me without a glance, his presence colder than ever.

Kyle drove me back to the dorm in suffocating silence. As soon as we arrived, I bolted to my room, collapsing onto my bed in damp jeans and a flimsy sweater, too drained to care. That’s when I realized—I’d left my sweater at his place.

Guilt twisted in my gut. I had doubted his blindness. As if his strength somehow erased his...