Web of Obsession

Chapter 6: The Web Tightens

Eliza's hands trembled slightly as she stood before Noah's desk, holding the glass of water she had carefully prepared. Inside, the powder dissolved invisibly, its effects guaranteed to take hold within minutes. She had rehearsed this moment over and over in her mind—the culmination of weeks, no, years, of obsession.

Noah Hale sat before her, seemingly unaware of the storm swirling in her chest. He glanced up from his papers, offering her a polite smile, one that didn't quite reach his eyes. It was almost as if he sensed something, but Eliza brushed that thought away. He had no reason to suspect anything.

"Thank you," Noah said, reaching out for the glass. Eliza held her breath as he took it, the weight of the moment crashing over her. Her mind raced as she watched his fingers close around the glass, each second stretching into an eternity.

Her heart pounded as he brought the glass to his lips. This was it. The final step in her plan.

She waited.

Noah took a sip. Then another.

He set the glass down with a quiet clink, his gaze lifting to meet hers. "You've been quiet today, Eliza," he remarked casually, leaning back in his chair. "Everything alright?"

Eliza forced a smile, her pulse hammering in her ears. "I'm fine. Just... a lot on my mind."

"I see," he said, his eyes flickering with something unreadable. He didn't say anything more, simply returning to the papers in front of him, seemingly unaware of the drug coursing through his system.

Eliza waited, the silence between them thick and heavy. Her nerves were on edge, anticipation tingling at the back of her neck. It wouldn't take long for the drug to work—just a few more minutes, and Noah would start to feel the effects. She glanced at the clock, her fingers trembling as she crossed her arms to hide the shake in her hands.

It wasn't until Noah reached for the glass again that he began to falter. His movements were slower, more deliberate. Eliza watched closely, the tension building as he tried to lift the glass but missed the edge. His brow furrowed, and for a fleeting moment, his eyes narrowed, a flicker of suspicion crossing his features.

Then it happened. He slumped back in his chair, his body going slack, his eyelids heavy. The drug was taking effect.

Eliza moved quickly, adrenaline coursing through her veins. She slipped behind his desk and gently eased Noah out of his chair, careful not to let him hit the ground too hard. He was heavier than she expected, and it took all her strength to drag him to the elevator. Her hands were trembling, but she knew she had to act fast before anyone in the office noticed his absence.

In the dimly lit parking garage, Eliza opened the back door of her car and heaved Noah into the backseat, her breath ragged from the effort. She paused for a moment, her heart racing as she glanced around to make sure no one had seen her. The garage was quiet, empty except for the low hum of the overhead lights.

She climbed into the driver's seat and started the engine, her pulse still hammering in her ears. The night was cool, and the streets were empty as she drove, her mind racing with the enormity of what she had just done. Noah Hale—the man she had loved, watched, and obsessed over for so long—was finally hers.

The drive felt surreal, the weight of the situation pressing down on her. She kept glancing in the rearview mirror, half-expecting Noah to stir, to wake up and demand an explanation. But he remained motionless, the drug keeping him under.

When she finally arrived at her apartment, Eliza parked in the secluded alley behind the building. She took a deep breath before stepping out of the car, her heart thudding in her chest as she opened the back door and gently pulled Noah's limp body out. It took every ounce of her strength to haul him inside, up the narrow stairs to her apartment.

Once inside, she laid him on the couch, his body sprawled across the cushions. Eliza stood there for a moment, catching her breath, her hands resting on her knees as she stared down at him. Noah looked peaceful, almost serene in his unconscious state.

Eliza's apartment was dimly lit, the curtains drawn, casting long shadows across the room. She watched him for a moment, feeling the strange mix of elation and dread. This was what she wanted—what she had planned for so long. But now that Noah was here, in her space, vulnerable, the reality of it all began to sink in.

She sat down in a chair across from him, her eyes never leaving his face. The room was eerily quiet, the only sound her own breathing. Hours passed, and she waited for Noah to wake.

It was late into the night when Noah finally stirred, a low groan escaping his lips as he shifted on the couch. Eliza's heart leapt in her chest, her fingers tightening around the arms of her chair. She watched as his eyes fluttered open, confusion clouding his features as he slowly sat up.

He blinked, his gaze sweeping over the unfamiliar room before landing on her. His expression shifted from confusion to realization, his body tensing as he pieced together what had happened.

"Eliza," he murmured, his voice rough. "Where am I?"

"You're with me now," Eliza whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "I've waited so long for this. For you."

Noah's eyes narrowed as he looked around the room again, testing the limits of his restrained body. "What did you do?" His tone was sharp, though he was still groggy from the drug.

"I had to," Eliza confessed, stepping closer to him. "You wouldn't understand. You don't see it, but we're meant to be together. I've watched you for so long, Noah. I know everything about you—your routines, your habits, your desires. We're connected in ways you don't even realize."

Noah's jaw tightened, his gaze dark and unreadable. "Eliza, you need to let me go."

"No!" Her voice was sharp, her heart pounding with a frantic intensity. "You don't understand, Noah. You're mine. I won't let anyone else have you. We're supposed to be together. Forever."

As the words left her lips, Noah's expression remained carefully neutral, but deep inside, he was piecing together the next steps, knowing that the real game had only just begun.