𝚮𝐢𝐬 𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐫 | 18+

3 || PREY

𝕣𝕦𝕟𝕣𝕦𝕟𝕣𝕦𝕟 – 𝕕𝕦𝕥𝕔𝕙 𝕞𝕖𝕝𝕣𝕠𝕤𝕖
CHAPTER THREE | PREY
𓆩❤︎𓆪𓆩❤︎𓆪𓆩❤︎𓆪

Sophia wiggled her feet in boredom, rolling her foot around on her heel as she waited. For all she knew, she could've been waiting for nothing. Storm had left after staring at her for a while. It had seemed that her monosyllabic words and mastery of her crying had caught him off guard. And that had made him angry. Her stinging cheek was the result of his anger before he stormed off and slammed the door shut.

It had been hours since he'd left, hours since she hadn't seen him. It was the longest that she had gone without stalking him since he came out of prison. The anxiety of not knowing if the police had finally caught him, if one of his many enemies finally stepped up and finished the job that so desperately was hers or if someone had decided to stab him in the back and kill him. Her mind was growing wild with anxiety and the lack of doing anything.

She was bored.

And her growling stomach indicated she was hungry as well.

She threw her head back and sighed. Her ear was still buzzing from his abuse and her cheek was still stinging yet it was the most alive she'd felt in a while. She hadn't realised how mundane stalking him had become, how all her days had melted together in her repetitive actions. She didn't even remember the last time she had fun and that fun hadn't been defined as ruining one of his many operations and watching him kill his employees in a fit of anger.

It had been a while since someone had hit her, since someone had touched her. Human touch had become so foreign to her. Yet that nagging thought of why that was the case always seemed to creep up on her. It was because of him. If he hadn't killed her family she wouldn't have been so starved of affection and human touch, no, she'd be showered in it. She'd hear her family call her Princess and Princess Sophia every day, they'd kiss her cheek and hug her and tell her they love her and she'd feel it in her heart; she'd feel loved.

Instead, she was in his freakishly clean apartment, tied to his stupidly expensive chair. The apartment even smelled nice despite the genocide he'd committed in it.

She didn't know what was worse. Being stuck to the chair or the fact that her little dagger was so close yet so far away as the cool metal pressed against her thigh, hidden beneath her thick and oversized sweatpants. But what use was her knife if she physically couldn't reach it? Maybe the cold was the worst part.

He hadn't even turned the stupid heater on, leaving her in the biting cold of the winter. She just stared at the jacket as if that'd make it seek her. She'd tried dragging it closer to her with her foot but failed in her many attempts. It wasn't until she nearly pushed the chair to the side and fell that she decided to stop trying. She wasn't even close to it, after all. At least he had the decency to leave her shoes on her feet.

She shuddered from the cold, her teeth chattering and goosebumps running along her bare arms. Her thin tank top did little to nothing to keep her warm. She let her head lull back again in despair and groaned in annoyance. She was going to catch a cold.

Her form straightened when she finally heard the front door open as well as the light turning on. It didn't take a genius to figure out who it was.

It wasn't long before he stood a few feet before her, a pizza box in one hand and a pizza slice in his other hand. He stared at her as he ate, eyes squinted at her as though he was thinking about what he was going to do with her.