THE DEVOUER OF ROSES

the hunter's countdown

Chapter 4:



Seven years later...

The air inside the lavish penthouse was thick with the sharp tang of power and the faint hint of imported cigars. Shadows danced on the walls as city lights filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting an eerie glow. Zain Veirk stood by the window, his silhouette sharp as a blade, hands buried in the pockets of his tailored suit. He gazed down at the world below, eyes hollow, like he saw everything yet felt nothing.

His phone buzzed on the glass table behind him. He didn’t move. Not until the second buzz. His jaw tightened as he walked over, his footsteps eerily silent.

“Speak,” he commanded, his voice cold, calculated — like a predator’s growl.

“She’s here,” the voice on the other end said. “Just like you said she would be.”

Zain's fingers curled tighter around the phone. His eyes darkened, a slow, wicked smile tugging at his lips. “Bring her to me.”

There was a pause, and then, “Understood, boss.”

He ended the call, his thumb lingering over the screen. Slowly, he turned, his other hand running through his midnight-black hair. A laugh escaped him — low, broken, and bitter. His eyes flickered, a hint of something more vulnerable surfacing for just a second before it disappeared.

“Finally,” he muttered, glancing at the mirror on the wall. He stared at himself, his reflection unmoving for too long, as if someone else was watching from the other side. His fingers grazed the edge of the mirror, his eyes narrowing as his childlike voice echoed in his mind.

"She’s coming back to us, Zain. Don’t scare her away this time."

His breathing slowed. He closed his eyes, pressing his forehead against the cold glass. "She ran away, remember? She left us. She deserves this."

"But she’ll love us again, right? She has to."

His eyes snapped open, his gaze sharp, focused, dangerous. "Love is a myth, little one," he whispered. "But control... control is real."

---



Athira pov

T

he old warehouse smelled of rust and rain-soaked concrete. It was dimly lit, the flickering fluorescent lights above making every shadow stretch longer than it should. Athira clutched her coat tighter around herself, her heart pounding like a caged animal. Her gaze darted around, trying to stay alert, trying to stay ready.

“Come on, come on,” she muttered under her breath, staring at the phone in her hand. No signal. Of course, no signal.

The footsteps came before she saw them. Slow, deliberate, echoing off the hollow walls. Her breath hitched. Her fingers dug into her coat pocket, feeling for the small knife she always carried. She’d learned to be prepared. Always be prepared.

"Looking for someone, little dove?"

The voice came from behind her, low, slick, and far too familiar. Her body froze, a shiver racing down her spine. Slowly, she turned.

He stood there, leaning against a steel pillar, his face half-hidden in shadow. Dark eyes watched her like a wolf observing his prey. His smirk was a cruel s***h across his face, like he knew every secret she’d ever tried to bury.

Athira’s eyes widened, disbelief mingling with fear. Her lips parted, but no words came out.

“Miss me?” Zain asked, stepping forward, his every movement measured, predatory.

“Zain…” Her voice broke. She hated that it did. She hated that she still remembered how his name tasted on her tongue.

“Surprised?” He tilted his head, his eyes scanning her like he was trying to memorize every inch of her. “Didn’t think I’d find you?”

Her jaw clenched, her spine straightening. “I didn’t think you’d care.”

He laughed, low and harsh, like she’d just told the funniest joke in the world. “Care? Oh, I don’t care, Athira.” He stopped a breath away from her, his eyes piercing through her. “But I own what’s mine. And you…” His hand reached up, his fingers curling under her chin, tilting her face up to meet his gaze. “…you belong to me.”

Her eyes burned with defiance, her body tense as a bowstring. “I’m not yours, Zain. I was never yours.”

His eyes darkened, his smile vanishing as his grip on her chin tightened just slightly. His face moved closer, so close she could feel his breath against her cheek.

"Lie to yourself all you want, Athira," he murmured, his voice a deadly caress. "But don’t lie to me."

Her breath came in shallow gasps, her heart hammering like a war drum. Don’t show fear. Don’t show fear.

"Let me go," she hissed. "I have nothing to do with you anymore."

His head tilted again, his eyes narrowing as if considering her words. Then he leaned in, his lips barely an inch from her ear. "That's where you’re wrong, little dove," he whispered, his voice a razor against silk. "You bled for me once. That means you’re mine forever."

Her eyes darted to the doorway behind him, calculating. She’d fought her way out of worse. But this? This was Zain Veirk. The boy she once knew was gone. In his place stood a man who’d mastered darkness and now commanded it.

He saw the shift in her gaze, the flicker of strategy in her eyes, and his smirk returned, slow and knowing.

“Go ahead,” he said, stepping back, arms spread wide like he was inviting her to try. “Run.”

Her breath caught in her throat.

“Run, Athira,” he said softly, his eyes burning like twin flames. “I’ll even count to ten.”

Her muscles tensed, her body ready to bolt.

“One…” he began, his voice smooth and deliberate.

Her heart pounded in her ears.

“Two…”

Her feet moved before her mind made the choice. She spun on her heels and ran, her legs pumping as fast as they could carry her. Her lungs burned, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps.

Behind her, his voice echoed through the warehouse, dark and patient.

“Three…”

The lights flickered overhead. Her shadow stretched long ahead of her.

“Four…”

Her eyes locked on the distant metal door. Almost there. Almost there.

“Five…” His voice was closer. Too close.

Her hands reached for the handle. Her fingers grazed it, but something wrapped around her wrist — iron-strong and unyielding.

“Six,” he breathed into her ear, his breath warm against her skin.

Her scream echoed off the walls, sharp and short, before his hand covered her mouth, dragging her backward. She thrashed, nails clawing at his arm, but his grip was unbreakable.

“Seven,” he said, calm, like they were playing a game.

Tears burned in her eyes as she fought harder, adrenaline surging like fire in her veins.

“Eight,” he continued, his tone maddeningly calm, like he was counting down the seconds to her surrender.

Her nails dug into his skin, but he didn’t even flinch. His grip only tightened, his body pressing hers against the cold concrete wall.

“Nine,” he whispered against her ear, his voice soft as silk.

Her breathing came fast, panic setting in. Please…

His lips brushed the shell of her ear as he finished, “Ten.”

Silence. Her pulse was wild, her chest heaving. His hold on her loosened, his face hovering inches from hers. His eyes, once hollow, now burned with something twisted, something she couldn’t name.

“See, little dove?” he said softly, his fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. “I always win.”

Tears slipped down her cheeks, but her gaze locked on his with a defiance that refused to die.

“You think this is winning?” she rasped, her voice shaking but strong. “You’re still that same boy, Zain. Desperate. Starving. Alone.”

His face shifted. For a second, the mask cracked. His grip faltered, his gaze flickering with something raw, something fragile.

Then it was gone. The monster returned, and his smile was sharp as a dagger.

“Maybe,” he said, his eyes colder than ever. “But now, I’ve learned to make them starve with me.”

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