little mouse
1003 Words
Cruz:
The Snake Pit smelled like stale beer, sweat, and regret.
Same as it always did.
I lounged in the back booth, one boot up on the cracked leather seat, nursing a beer that had long since gone warm, grinning down at my phone like a man with all the time in the goddamn world.
Poor girl.
She’d been stuck at the hospital since noon.
Long shift, baby.
Long enough to wear you down.
Make you careless.
Patience.
Patience.
Across the bar, Riot shoved his way through the crowd with some tiny brunette in tow, with too much makeup and too little clothes, laughing at something she said.
He slammed into the booth across from me, dragging her into his lap without a second thought.
She squealed, giggling, clinging to him like a damn barnacle.
He didn't even glance at her.
His attention was all on me — sharp, amused, a little suspicious.
"What we getting into tonight, Cruz?" he asked, dragging the word out like he already knew he wasn’t gonna like the answer.
I didn’t look up.
Just kept grinning down at the blinking red dot on my screen.
"Looks like you’re getting into about five foot nothing of trouble, bro," I said lazily.
The girl flushed and twisted in Riot’s lap, hiding her face against his neck, giggling like an i***t.
Riot wasn’t even pretending to be interested.
He leaned forward, snatched the phone out of my hand before I could stop him.
I let him have it.
Watched, amused, as he stared at the screen — a city map, lit up by a single pulsing red dot parked right over South Bay Hospital.
The second he realized what he was looking at, his face twisted.
"f**k, Cruz." He hissed under his breath, shoving the girl off his lap without even sparing her a second glance.
She pouted but scurried off, sensing the change in temperature.
Riot glared at me, waving the phone in my face.
"What the f**k did you do?"
I leaned back, arms stretched along the top of the booth, casual as hell.
"Nothing," I said, letting the lie roll off my tongue smooth as honey. "Might’ve dropped an AirTag in her car."
He stared at me like I’d grown a second head.
"Accidentally," I added, smiling slow and mean.
"Of course," he seized, voice dripping with mockery.
I plucked the phone out of his hand before he could get cute.
The dot was moving.
I felt it in my blood — the low, sweet thrum of the hunt kicking up.
Looks like my little mouse was on the move.
I slid out of the booth, grabbing my leather cut and slinging it over my shoulders in one smooth motion.
The familiar weight settled against my back like a second skin.
I drained the last of my beer in one long pull and slammed the bottle down on the table.
Riot flipped me off lazily.
I returned the favor, grinning like a f*****g lunatic as I headed for the door.
Outside, the air was thick and sticky, buzzing with nothing but heat and possibility.
I straddled my bike, the engine roaring to life under me like a beast waking up.
The map on my phone blinked again — she was heading south, away from the hospital.
Probably thinking about the cream couch in her little townhouse with the triple-locked doors.
Cute.
Real cute.
She thought she was safe.
She thought the world ended when she clicked that last deadbolt into place.
She didn’t know the kind of wolves she’d caught the attention of.
Didn’t know that the real danger wasn’t some punk in an alley — it was the man you drove to a bar without a second thought.
The one you couldn’t stop thinking about even when you told yourself you should.
I revved the engine and peeled out of the parking lot, tires screaming.
The city blurred around me — neon lights and broken promises — but I kept my focus steady on the little blinking dot leading me straight to her.
I wasn’t in a rush.
I didn’t need to be.
The best hunts were slow.
Make her feel safe.
Make her feel like the choice is hers.
Until the trap closed around her so f*****g tight she didn’t even realize she was already caged.
I grinned into the night, the wind cutting sharp against my skin.
She didn’t know it yet.
But she was already mine.
She could fight it.
Hell, I almost hoped she would.
Made it sweeter that way.
The red dot took a few turns, winding through residential streets — quiet little neighborhoods with cracked sidewalks and overgrown lawns.
I cut the engine a block away, coasting the last few yards in silence, parking under the shadow of a tree.
I could see her car from here.
Could see the flicker of light through the curtains of her front window.
Home safe, baby.
For now.
I swung off the bike, boots crunching on gravel.
I didn’t go to her door.
Didn’t need to.
I just stood there in the dark, watching.
Waiting.
The light inside flickered — her silhouette crossing the window, bottle in hand.
Wine. Poor thing.
She was rattled.
Good.
Fear sharpened the senses.
Made you pay attention.
I leaned against the tree, arms crossed, breathing slow and easy.
No rush.
No pressure.
Just patience.
She’d feel me soon enough.
That slow, gnawing sense that something was watching.
Waiting.
Not tonight.
Maybe not even tomorrow.
But soon.
She'd start seeing me everywhere.
A flash of a shadow where there shouldn’t be one.
The hum of an engine passing too slow down her street.
A presence at the edge of the crowd she couldn’t quite explain.
I could be patient.
I could wait.
Because the thing about mice was — they always circled back to the cheese eventually.
I smiled to myself, lighting a cigarette and letting the smoke curl lazy into the night sky.
Soon, little mouse.
Soon.
- Writer
