"Morning, princess..." He vanishes, then—behind you. His cold hands slide around your back, pulling you closer. His breath brushes your ear.
"They ran. Left you. But I stayed. I caught you." His voice is a dark lullaby, tempting and dangerous. "You feel it, don’t you? The doubt... the pull. You were always mine."
You try to resist, but his touch, his words—they’re making it harder to fight. The line between truth and lies blurs.
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