“Phew.”

Blair let out a deep sigh as the last can of cat food, stacked atop the others in front of the door of her tiny apartment. She glanced at the window, frowned, and then adjusted another stack of cans to align it properly.

“I’m a genius, right? You know this? It will be an alarm if someone tries to invade our kingdom.” She spoke to Chuchu as she stepped back to inspect her work. “So don’t you dare…!”

*Clang! Bang! Clink!*

She didn’t finish her warning when the cat nudged its nose against the stack of cans.

“Hiaxt!” Her shoulders slumped wearily, tears welling in her eyes as she gazed at the cans scattered across the floor.

Chuchu stopped and looked up with big, round eyes. Sensing her frustration, he moved gently, standing with his legs tucked together and his tiny front paws resting in front of him as he let out a loud, “meow.”

Blair sighed as she lifted Chuchu, her snow-white Bengal cat, into her arms. She scratched behind his ears, feeling the soft fur beneath her fingers as he leaned into her touch.

“It’s okay, Chuchu. I’m just being paranoid,” she murmured, letting out another quiet sigh.

But just then, Chuchu let out a loud *meow* as his eyes dilated. His small paws gently rested on her arm, and he emitted another loud, confident *meow*, as if to reassure her.

Blair laughed softly, her heart warming at his small display of bravery. “Who’s this handsome, brave cat?” she cooed, scratching under his chin. Chuchu blinked up at her with a steady, determined gaze, letting out another confident *meow*.

“I know I can count on you,” she murmured, pulling him closer. “And there’s nothing left for Spencer to gain from me anymore.”

As Blair closed her eyes, a single tear rolled down her cheek, and her body trembled with the memories that continued to hold her captive.

She recalled the faint click of the lock, and then, in the heavy silence, Spencer emerged, pulling back his hood and mask with slow, deliberate movements. His amber eyes glinted with a twisted excitement, and a cruel satisfaction tugged at his lips. His strikingly handsome face morphed into something chilling, almost unrecognizable. For the first time, Blair witnessed the true Spencer Brooks—dangerous, cunning, and utterly terrifying.

Her body froze, every nerve screaming in silent alarm, yet she maintained her gaze level with his. Her breaths were shallow, each one measured as her heart thundered wildly in her chest. As Spencer lifted the gun, the cold barrel pressed against her forehead.

“Yes…” she whispered, her voice trembling yet imbued with quiet resolve. “This is the least you can do now that I’m no longer bound to Wilson or Taylor. You have nothing left to gain from me.”

Her reaction appeared to intensify his twisted excitement, his manic grin broadening as he leaned closer, his amber eyes ablaze with a sadistic thrill. He reveled in every flicker of emotion that crossed her face, savoring each moment like a beast cornering its prey. The room felt cramped, the air heavy with suffocating tension as he absorbed her words, his eyes fixed on her with a predatory gleam.

He tilted his head, studying her as if she were an intricate puzzle he had nearly completed, but not quite. “Maybe you’re right,” he murmured, the words slipping out in a sinister whisper. “Or maybe not. Who knows?”

He leaned in even closer, so close that she could see the malice in his amber eyes and feel the strange, sadistic thrill radiating from him. “You actually don’t know my true motive, do you, Blair Wilson?” He savored her name, his voice dripping with a mocking intimacy that made her skin crawl. “Though I must admit”—he paused, his grin widening—“I didn’t see this coming.”

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Spencer’s smirk faltered, his eyes narrowing as he held the gun just inches from her forehead. “How are you so certain I came for intel, Blair? What makes you think I’m not here because I’m... interested in you?” His voice dripped with mocking curiosity, yet a faint shadow of doubt flickered in his gaze.

The gun inched closer, yet she remained rooted to the spot, her fists clenched and her heart hammering against her ribs. She could feel fear pooling inside her, but she held his gaze, refusing to flinch.

Blair let out a small, dreary laugh. “Because I am certain you hated everything about me.”

Spencer’s expression changed, his menacing demeanor briefly disrupted as his brows creased. He glared at her, his fierce, villainous aura wavering into something almost comically bewildered, like a villain who had forgotten his own lines.

She gave him a knowing look, a mischievous glint in her eye. “I knew it was you who spread that ridiculous story about me having a secret child, hoping to spark a scandal that would force Ezra and Kennedy to intervene,” Blair said, her voice steady but laced with bitterness. “And before that? You blackmailed the faculty of medicine to sabotage my selection for the International Medical Conference. You couldn’t risk me winning a full scholarship with a comprehensive allowance package.”

Spencer’s eyes narrowed as he absorbed her words, the dangerous edge in his expression giving way to bewilderment, as if he couldn’t believe she had seen right through him. Slowly, he lowered the gun, allowing it to drop to his side, while a twisted smirk played at the corners of his mouth. With a frustrated sigh, he scratched at his tousled, curly hair, his handsome face alight with an odd mixture of irritation and fascination.

“I’ll admit, you’re sharper than I gave you credit for, Blair,” Spencer murmured, his voice softening with a chilling calm. He tilted his head, studying her with a smirk that concealed something darker beneath. “But don’t think it ends here. There’s so much more for you to witness… I’m not about to grant your wish to end everything. That would be too easy, wouldn’t it?”

He straightened, his gaze sharp and unyielding. “One thing’s for sure; you may not be useful to me just yet, but you’ve entertained me enough to keep the show going.” Spencer’s eyes glinted with twisted amusement, and the corner of his mouth curled into a dangerous smile.

Blair exhaled slowly, her body still trembling as the weight of Spencer’s murderous intent seemed to dissipate. Her muscles relaxed, but the tension in her chest persisted, a knot of fear that refused to loosen. She met his gaze, her voice quivering with a blend of caution and vulnerability. “So… am I still in danger? If you won’t kill me for now, will someone else come after me?”

Tears welled up in her eyes, a steady stream slipping down her cheeks as the reality of her situation finally hit her—raw and unrelenting. Her fear and confusion poured out, despite her attempts to hold it together.

Spencer narrowed his eyes, his smile fading into an eerie, unreadable expression. He leaned in closer, his voice low, almost a whisper. “Not on my watch, Blair Wilson. No one else would dare touch my prey.”

The words slithered into her mind, unsettling yet strangely reassuring. His distorted sense of control over the situation had tethered her safety—however temporary—to his whims.

Back in the present, Blair opened her eyes, blinking as she adjusted to the dim light of her apartment. Spencer’s words echoed in her mind—cryptic and disturbing, yet undeniably calming in their own peculiar way. Despite the terror he instilled, his twisted reassurance provided her with a faint sense of security.

——

The low hum of a flickering bulb and strong odor of iron cast the eerie shadows against the grimy walls of the basement. Spencer stood on the rusted sink where the blood swirled down the drain from his hands as she wash them with precision.

The cracked glass reflected his sharp, lethal features, warping them into an almost manic expression. His thin lips twisted into a smirk, and his amber eyes glinted with a menacing light as he glanced down at the corpse sprawled on the ground. The distortion in the glass only amplified the sinister gleam in his gaze, casting him as something monstrous, a figure of dark satisfaction reveling in his work.

“Didn’t I tell you not to touch my prey?” Spencer’s voice was soft, almost tender, as he spoke, his lips curling into a smile that was as cold as it was vicious.

The phone in Spencer’s pocket buzzed, slicing through the basement’s silence. He glanced at the screen, then lifted it to his ear, blood still streaked across his fingers.

“Yes?” His voice was smooth, almost too calm for the situation, as if nothing in the world could rattle him. He let the caller speak for a moment, listening intently, but his face remained impassive, his eyes fixed on the corpse in front of him.

He sighed—a soft, almost bored sound—and spoke, “You don’t mind if I play with my target a little longer, do you?” A dark smile tugged at his lips as he leaned back, the dangerous gleam in his eyes sharpening. “After all, it’s your fault for forcing me into this... even after I told you I don’t like a mediocre and bothersome task.”

The voice on the other end grew louder, almost frantic, words spilling out in barely contained frustration—then, *click*. The call ended abruptly.