𝚮𝐢𝐬 𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐫 | 18+

1 || THIN ICE

𝕙𝕒𝕦𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕕 – 𝕚𝕤𝕒𝕓𝕖𝕝 𝕝𝕒𝕣𝕠𝕤𝕒
CHAPTER ONE | THIN ICE
𓆩❤︎𓆪𓆩❤︎𓆪𓆩❤︎𓆪

Sophia often wondered what compelled her towards Storm in the first place. Perhaps, it had started with a wish of revenge and later developed into a sort of curiosity. It wasn't long before her curiosity developed into an obsession, the more she found out about him. She virtually knew everything about him. She knew how he took his coffee, the shampoo he preferred, and what condoms he liked to buy.

Years had passed since he'd come out of jail, since she'd tracked him down, and since she started plotting her revenge only for it to turn into obsession. Years passed and her obsession turned into something darker. Following him, watching him, and listening in on him had almost become a compulsory urge all in the name of revenge.

It was a wish of vengeance that led her to follow him once again after his usual evening jog through that creepy park nobody visited close to his condo. The very condo that the Bratva had so graciously bought for him as a display of their appreciation. He'd been born in the Bratva and he was planning on dying for the Russian mafia.

Despite his innate loyalty to the mafia, that'd practically bred and raised him, he liked to keep to himself, often spending his nights on his own, ordering food and watching various horror movies as he trained. She'd overheard him once telling one of his friends that horror movies increase testosterone and in turn made him stronger. She didn't necessarily believe it was true but looking at him she couldn't say it wasn't either. He was huge, bigger than his friends, stronger than them too.

Yet she couldn't help but believe that the seemingly American Psycho-obsessed man was perhaps a bit too infatuated with Patrick Bateman and that had been the real reason why he enjoyed horror movies so much.

And like Patrick Bateman, Storm was quite the lone wolf. It was perhaps the very reason why he liked the local park so much. It was desolate and practically deserted. Silent. Just like how he enjoyed it. It was a place where he could be his chaotic and unapologetic self without consequence, where he could live up to his nickname Storm without consequence, a nickname he'd had since he was small. Wherever he went chaos and storm seemed to follow him, leaving destruction in his path.

Sophia sighed as she watched him jog lap after lap after lap. She sat on the bench, her coffee-filled thermos keeping her fingers warm from the biting cold. She often wondered how he could handle being in the biting cold in that thin white t-shirt that barely stretched over his chest. She believed that having lived in Siberia for a couple of years is what had led to his immunity to the cold. Unlike her, as well, he never seemed to get sick.

He'd left everything in Russia in pursuit of moving to the States to serve the Bratva just like his deceased dad had and just like his uncle was. It had taken a while for Sophia to find out just who his uncle was and when she did, she wondered if watching Storm truly was a good use of her pastime. After all, it perhaps wasn't in her best interest to watch over the only nephew of the infertile boss of the Bratva.

Her fingers tightened around the thermos as she calmed her breathing; fiddled with anxiety. She was in too deep anyway, she reminded herself. And at least he hadn't brought his nightmarish Doberman, Koshmar, to join him for his evening jog. That dog was truly just an extension of his violent self. It was as violent as Storm was, if not more. Storm had personally made sure of that.

After his sixth lap, Storm finally slowed down, catching his breath. It was usually after the sixth lap that he decided to stop by the local grocery store to buy his favourite beer and then go home. He'd then order some fried chicken or occasionally change it up with the local carnivore pizza which basically was a pizza stuffed with a bunch of meat. She'd tried it and hated it. Unlike the huge man, she liked to spend her time watching.