His presence pressed against me before I even saw him — thick, heavy, suffocating. My heart thudded so hard it hurt.

No light. No escape. Just his voice… and the sound of his slow, deliberate steps approaching.

Every instinct screamed at me to run. But my feet wouldn’t move.

“Answer me,” he said, a whisper that felt louder than a roar.

I opened my mouth, but no sound came out.

And then — his hand brushed against my throat. Not hard. Not gentle either. A reminder. A promise.

“This,” he murmured, leaning close enough for his breath to touch my ear, “is the last time you get to walk through...