𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐋 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐒𝐘𝐂𝐇𝐎
❝ You will always and forever be Made For My Control Kyra, just as I was designed to be under yours ❞
𝐊𝐘𝐑𝐀 𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐓 a woman with passion and a fiery heart. As the youngest...
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" She had become the one thing that he couldn't control, and that only made him crave her more. " Unknown ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐒 my hands, dripping down my long fingers in streams as cold water rains down my naked body. I clench and unclench my fists, feeling the warmth of it contrasting against the chill of the shower. The crimson washes away, swirling down the drain, but the memory of it stays, an affirmation of my resolve. I let the water continue to run, savuoring the moment, cleansing my skin.
My muscles tense beneath the cascade of cold water, each droplet striking my skin like tiny needles, unable to wash away the anger rising within me. I clench my jaw, a low growl escaping my throat. "Fucking hell," I mutter, scrubbing my body with my usual cedar-scented soap, the hint of spice mingling with the chilling steam.
Tension coils tighter with every movement, my muscles protesting as the bruises on my skin throb—dark and angry reminders of my recent encounters. Every inch of me feels taut, wound like a spring about to snap. To say I was pissed beyond measure was an understatement; rage simmered beneath my skin, a relentless, scorching force that refused to let go. The air itself felt heavy, pressing down as if trying to crush the fury within me, but all it did was sharpen the edges of my anger.
I was fucking livid.
Not only did those damn Colombian clans—an undefined swarm of opportunistic bastards—keep swarming the country like crickets, taking shots at my shipments, whether valuable or not, but now I had a fucking mole on my team. The realisation twisted like a knife in my gut, betrayal sinking its teeth into me just when I thought I had everything under control.
A mole.
A fucker that I've barely had the time to pinpoint due to the woman who swarms my very thoughts at every fucking second.
My obsession with Kyra only continues to grow, seeping into my bones, a dark presence that refuses to let go and it pissed me the fuck off, I hadn't stopped following her. I never have. However I've been much better at keeping her knowledge of my presence nonexistent.
As far as Kyra knows, her ghost of a stalker has vanished, but I haven't missed a single day without seeing her. There are moments when she suddenly stops, her eyes flickering as if she senses something, and for a split second, I think she knows I'm there. But then it becomes clear—she's lost in her own head, oblivious to her surroundings, so consumed by her own thoughts that she doesn't even register the world around her.
Furthermore, not only had my obsession with Kyra spiralled into an all-consuming force, but I'd recently realised I was possessive in ways that unnerved me. I'd stop at nothing to ensure that no other man—despite the fact that I hadn't even touched her—could lay a hand on her. The thought alone ignited a primal fury within me, a dark resolve to keep her away from any encroachment, even as I remained a ghost in the shadows of her life.
