Chapter 6: Dominic
1071 Words
I shouldn’t have been here tonight. Rachel, the widow down the block who killed her husband with an insulin overdose, was supposed to be my focus. I had plans for her. Meticulous ones. But for some reason, I found myself parked outside Adam’s house, lurking in the shadows, watching and waiting.
It wasn’t just Adam that drew me back here. No, there was another reason. Her. The woman with the bright red hair and those eyes—fiery, defiant, alive in a way that made my pulse quicken. I didn’t know her name, but she had stirred something in me.
I watched through the slightly cracked window, my eyes narrowing as I caught sight of her standing inside Adam’s kitchen. I’d known she’d come back. The moment I saw her yesterday, I knew it wouldn’t be the last time. The way she had argued with Adam, the way she had stood her ground even when he got too close, too comfortable… It stuck with me. I hated the way he touched her, that arrogant smirk on his face like he owned her, like he could take whatever he wanted.
Tonight, though, I could see it wasn’t going to go the way Adam had planned. No, tonight was going to be something special.
I leaned closer to the window, careful not to make a sound as I watched the scene unfold. There she was, her coat already off, standing just a few feet behind him. Adam had his back to her, moving toward the table where he’d set up two wine glasses—an attempt at seduction. He was probably already congratulating himself, thinking she’d fallen into his trap, like Leah had before her.
But I could see the tension in her shoulders, the way her gaze darted toward the knife block on the counter. My pulse quickened as I realized what was about to happen.
She moved swiftly, her hand closing around the handle of the largest knife in the block. There wasn’t even a flicker of hesitation. In one fluid motion, she crossed the room, and before Adam could turn around, the blade was buried in his back.
The sound of it—a thick, meaty thud—sent a rush of heat through me. Adam stumbled forward, crashing into the table, the wine glasses toppling to the floor with a sharp shatter. He turned, his face twisted in shock, his mouth hanging open in disbelief as blood poured from the wound in his back.
I could see him trying to speak, but his words were nothing more than a gurgled mess. He clutched at his chest, stumbling, desperate to hold on to something. But she didn’t stop. She stepped forward again, driving the knife into him with even more force, her eyes wild, her movements fierce and purposeful.
I couldn’t tear my eyes away. I didn’t want to.
The way she moved, the way she wielded the knife—it was mesmerizing. There was no fear in her, no panic. She was completely in control, like she’d been waiting for this moment, preparing for it. And Adam… Adam never saw it coming. He thought he had her under his thumb, but now he was nothing more than a dying man, bleeding out on his kitchen floor.
It was beautiful.
I felt a grin spread across my face as I watched her pull the knife free, her chest heaving with every breath. Adam collapsed to the floor, his body twitching as he tried to crawl, tried to speak. But it was too late. His life was spilling out onto the floor, mixing with the broken glass and spilled wine. I could hear his breathing, shallow and ragged, the sound of a man who knew his end was near.
She stood over him, watching him die. I couldn’t see her face from this angle, but I could imagine the look in her eyes—the cold, hard satisfaction of finally taking control. It was intoxicating.
My fingers twitched with anticipation, adrenaline coursing through me as I pressed even closer to the window. I was so close I could almost feel the energy radiating off her. The anger, the rage, the release. It was everything I had hoped it would be.
And then, just as quickly as it had begun, it was over. Adam stopped moving, his body slumping to the floor in a lifeless heap.
She stood there for a moment, her breathing heavy, her hands still clutching the knife. I could see the tremble in her fingers, but it wasn’t from fear. It was from the sheer intensity of what she had just done. The air around her seemed to hum with the electricity of it.
I swallowed hard, my chest tight with excitement. She wasn’t like the others. She didn’t hesitate. She didn’t flinch. She acted.
I watched as she dropped the knife, the clatter of metal against tile barely registering as she turned her attention to the mess. She bent down, gathering the broken glass, wiping the blood from her hands with a dishrag. Her movements were methodical, almost clinical. She knew what needed to be done, and she was doing it. Clean. Efficient. I liked that.
She didn’t panic. She didn’t rush. She was smart, calculated, just like me.
And that’s what turned me on the most.
I had seen plenty of violence in my life. I had caused plenty of it. But this… this was different. She wasn’t just killing Adam out of revenge or anger. She was taking back control. She was making him pay for every time he thought he could get away with it, for every time he had used his strength to overpower someone weaker. She had made him the weak one. She had won.
And now, I wanted to get closer. I wanted to see her face up close, to see those fire-filled eyes again. I wanted to watch her more, to learn her rhythms, to understand the darkness that lurked beneath her surface.
As she finished cleaning, I stepped back into the shadows, a slow grin spreading across my face. She had no idea I was there. No idea I had witnessed everything.
But that didn’t matter. I’d make my move soon enough.
Tonight had been a gift. Watching her work, watching her take control—it was better than anything I could have imagined.
And now, I wanted more.
- Writer
