Little Butterfly

Chapter 54 - The Predator

The Predator~

The woods feel alive around me, but all I can focus on is the house in front of me. It's become an obsession, this nightly ritual of mine. Every evening at 7:50 p.m., I make my way through the thick forest, the sounds of nature a mere backdrop to the thoughts swirling in my mind. And by 8:00 p.m., I'm in position, hidden among the trees, my eyes fixed on Sophie Hart's house. The minutes drag on, each one a test of my patience, but I'm here again, just like I've been for the past week.

Four days ago, I made a choice. I let her see me, stepped out from the shadows so that she could no longer pretend she wasn't being watched. The moment our eyes met, the thrill that shot through me was almost unbearable. She saw me-really saw me-and I saw the confusion and fear play across her face before they morphed into something else. Relief. Anger. And maybe... maybe something more.

I've replayed that moment over and over in my head. The way her lips parted, how her eyes widened, how she quickly masked her emotions, but not quickly enough. My little butterfly, so beautifully unpredictable, so utterly captivating. I should be angry at her for toying with me, for making me feel this way, but I can't be. Because every time I think of her, every time I whisper her name, I feel more alive than I ever have before.

"Sophie..." The name slips from my lips, a dark prayer to the night.

It's maddening, this hold she has over me. I've always been a man of control, of power, but Sophie... she's changed the rules. I should despise her for it, for making me feel weak, for making me question everything I thought I knew about myself. But instead, I crave her even more.

The cigarette between my fingers burns slowly, the smoke curling up into the night air. I take a long drag, letting the nicotine calm the fire inside me, if only for a moment. My eyes never leave her window, waiting, watching. And then, as if on cue, she appears.

My heart skips a beat as I see her, the soft light from her room illuminating her figure. She moves closer to the window, her eyes searching, as if she knows I'm here, waiting for her. And then she does it-she begins to unbutton her blouse, her movements slow, deliberate.

My breath hitches, the desire roaring back to life with a vengeance. I can't tear my eyes away as she sheds the purple fabric, revealing the pale, smooth skin beneath. She's teasing me, pushing me to the edge, and I'm helpless against it. Every fiber of my being screams at me to close the distance, to take what's mine, but I force myself to stay rooted to the spot.

She continues to undress, each movement designed to torment me, to make me want her even more. And it's working. God, it's working. I can feel the demon inside me clawing to get out, the need to possess her, to claim her, almost too much to bear. But I resist, because I know that when the time comes, when I finally take her, it will be on my terms.

She's testing me, but she doesn't realize that I'm testing her too. She's playing with fire, and she doesn't even know it. But soon, she will. Soon, she'll understand what she's done, what she's awakened in me.

"Soon, Sophie," I whisper, the words carried away by the night breeze. "Soon, you'll be mine."

I take another drag of the cigarette, letting the smoke burn in my lungs before exhaling slowly. My eyes remain locked on her, on the beautiful, maddening creature who has turned my world upside down. She thinks she's in control, but she's wrong. So very wrong.

Because when I finally make my move, when I finally have her, there will be no escape. No more games. Only us. And she will be mine-completely, utterly mine.

For now, I'll watch. I'll wait. But the time is coming, and when it does, she'll wish she had never played with fire.

I watch as she strips off all her clothes, standing naked and staring straight at me with her siren green forest eyes. The intensity of her gaze weakens me in a way that no one else ever has. There's a power in her eyes, a challenge that sends a shiver down my spine. God damn that woman. She's a mental curse, tempting me, harassing me, pushing me to the brink of insanity. She knows exactly what she's doing, and it drives me mad.

I contemplate bursting into her house, tearing through that window, and taking what I've been craving for so long. But then I pause, recalling certain events that have kept me in check. I've always been careful, always kept her safety in mind, even as I edge closer to the line. No, I better not scare her. Not yet. Not when she's still playing this dangerous game with me.

Instead, I take out my phone and call her from my private number. She needs to understand that my desire for her is anything but lacking. As soon as the call connects, I watch her move to the right, a small shift that tells me she's debating what to do. After four rings, she finally picks up, and before she can say a word, I speak, my voice low and firm.

"Little Butterfly, I'm counting to ten. If you don't wear your clothes back, I am coming upstairs."

The silence on the other end is electrifying, charged with the tension between us. I know she's processing my words, deciding whether to comply or to push me further. And I wait, counting the seconds, my heart pounding in my chest as I wonder if tonight will be the night she finally gives in-or if she'll drive me to the brink once again.