His Victim, His Obsession

Chapter 04

Vicent Evans

I was tired of everything.

And as always, there was still work to do.

It’s not like I wanted to do anything else—or even knew how to. But that rush, the thrill of pointing a gun at someone’s head and watching them beg for their life... it didn’t do it for me anymore.

That fire was gone.

This life had nothing left to offer me.

No pleasure.

No surprise.

No flavor.

In the end, I was, had always been, and would probably always be just another one of the Evans family’s insane attack dogs. The guy who erases the evidence. Who ends the messy conversations. The one who gets his hands dirty.

None of that satisfied me anymore.

Not even the thirst for revenge against those bastards was enough to get me out of bed in the morning.

Maybe I should just... give up on this damn life. On this endless suffering. On the chaos inside my head.

This f****d-up instability of not being able to control your own thoughts, your own actions.

Deep down, maybe it’s not even my fault.

But when you’ve been locked up, tortured, neglected since you were a kid...

This is what your mind turns into.

Rot. Darkness.

They wanted to break me.

And they did.

I’m sure my father would’ve been happy to hear that his bastard son, the shame and disgrace of his life, finally dropped dead.

Maybe that’s the only way I’ll ever have peace.

That little grocery store was just another place for me to do my job.

Small. Easy to manipulate.

Full of terrified civilians and disconnected cameras.

The perfect setup to erase a few names—no loose ends, no witnesses.

But... something went wrong.

I misjudged the place.

Or maybe I was just too damn tired to care.

They were there.

The two men I was supposed to take out.

Not amateurs.

Not like the others.

Maybe... part of the same rotten world that once took me in—and now wanted me gone.

They knew I was coming.

And they opened fire.

One of them got me—

Right in the gut.

I didn’t scream.

The pain was real, but...

I wanted it.

For a long time now, I’d been waiting for an ending.

And that bullet—it was the beginning of the end.

I stumbled through the wrecked aisles, hearing the screams, the distant sound of people running.

Dropped my gun.

And gave in to my need for peace.

I sat down by the door.

Just like that.

That’s where I’d die.

This was the end.

No glory.

No audience.

No remorse.

The perfect ending for someone as despicable as me.

Until…

She showed up.

I hadn’t seen her before. If I had…

I probably would’ve killed her.

She was just another face in the crowd.

At least, that’s what I thought.

Until she did *that*.

The two men came at me, ready to finish the job.

I didn’t move.

I was ready.

But then, she attacked them.

With a broken shelf.

And she didn’t just attack—

She killed.

Cold. Brutal.

One hit after another, like she’d been waiting for that moment her whole life.

And right there—

On that filthy, blood-soaked floor—

Something lit up inside me.

A spark I hadn’t felt in years.

It wasn’t just that she saved my life.

It was *how* she did it.

No hesitation.

No second-guessing.

That girl… woke something in me I didn’t even know existed.

And the moment her eyes locked onto mine…

I knew I’d die for real if I ever lost sight of her.

She ran to me, face tight with panic, eyes shining under the flickering lights of that ruined store.

She dropped to her knees beside me, gasping for breath, desperate—

And grabbed my shirt like she owned it.

Pressed down on the wound, hard, urgent.

And even through the blinding pain…

All I could think about—was *her*.

The heat of her fingers.

The way her lips trembled like she was about to cry—but didn’t.

She didn’t just save me from those assholes.

She saved me from myself.

Not because she knew who I was.

Not because she owed me a damn thing.

And that...

That hit me like a drug.

I found myself staring into her dark eyes, trying to memorize every line of her pupils, the way her lashes shook, the curve of her mouth as she begged me to stay awake.

Maybe… it was love.

Maybe something even stronger.

And when the ambulance came—

And took me away from her…

It felt like losing my last breath.

I didn’t want help.

I wanted her.

But I was too weak, too out of it…

I couldn’t even speak.

When I got out of the hospital, my phone was loaded with notifications.

Missed calls.

Encrypted messages.

Voices on the other end ordering deaths, asking for “clean-ups” in places the world forgot.

But none of it mattered.

None of it made sense anymore.

Only her.

I turned off the phone.

Ignored everything.

And started my hunt.

Selene.

The name etched into my mind with the reverence of something divine.

I did what I do best.

Track. Follow. Learn.

From afar, I watched her.

And slowly, I slipped into the spaces where she walked.

I saw her through diner windows, serving coffee with dark circles under her eyes and callused hands.

I followed from a distance as she strolled the park, surrounded by dogs too happy to notice the weight she carried in her shoulders.

I waited on the corner by the pet shop, where she sat with that faraway look in her eyes.

And at night…

On the streets.

Driving carefully a few blocks behind, she on her beat-up bike, backpack stuffed with takeout deliveries for people who didn’t even know her name.

I recorded everything.

Her schedule.

The way her face looked when she was too tired to smile.

The messy bun she’d throw her hair into at the end of the day.

I started being everywhere she was—without her ever noticing.

But it wasn’t enough.

Just seeing her…

Only watching her…

It didn’t fill that hollow space in my chest. It didn’t satisfy me.

And before I realized it, the desire I had for her had turned into something much bigger. Something I couldn’t control.

She…

She made me want to live.

And now…

I needed to live *with* her.

I tried getting closer, but watching her smile at others made me sick.

The way her eyes dropped, shy and sweet, whenever a customer complimented her coffee…

The way she’d laugh softly as she stroked the dogs, gently guiding them on their leashes…

It was unbearable.

Those hands should be on *me*.

That smile…

It should be *mine*.

I’d never truly wanted anything before. Not a woman, not an object, not a dream.

Sure, I liked pleasure, but women had always been just pretty, hollow faces—nothing more than warmth when I needed it.

But her…

She made me question my sanity for the first time.

She broke me from the inside.

And worse—

She rebuilt me into something I don’t even understand.

I didn’t know what to do with those feelings.

That cursed obsession growing inside me like a carnivorous plant.

So I made a decision.

I was going to make her fall for me. Love me.