The Predator

Fuck this little woman.

I watched her as she sat there with her head down, pretending like she wasn’t trembling, like her defiance wasn’t crumbling under my gaze. But I could see it all—the subtle shake of her shoulders, the way her fingers twitched against the table. And yet, she kept her chin tilted up just enough to mock me.

She thought she could get under my skin. Thought she could fuck with my head by parading around in that goddamn lace.

And she succeeded.

When she’d walked out like that, wearing that, looking like some cursed combination of an angel and a temptress, my first instinct was...