The Hunt and the Hunter

Adelaide used to believe that monsters only existed in books.

She spent years crafting them-twisting ink into shadows, breathing life into the kind of men who made hearts race for all the wrong reasons. ,,Tempting Rose "had been her masterpiece, a story drenched in obsession, power, and the intoxicating thrill of danger.

But that was fiction.

This? This was real.

The rose was the first sign.

A single bloom, blood-red and fresh, left outside her apartment door. No note. No explanation. She had stared at it for too long, unease settling deep in her bones. It was probably nothing. A harmless gesture. A mistake.

The second time, it was inside.

On her nightstand.

A place only she should have been able to reach.

Now, as she stood frozen in her dimly lit apartment, her breath hitched. The air felt heavier, suffocating. She wasn't alone-she could feel it. The weight of unseen eyes pressing against her skin.

She swallowed hard.

"You wrote this story, Adelaide."

The words slithered through her mind like a whisper from the dark.

"I'm just playing my role."

She had spent years writing about obsession. Now, she was living it.

And she didn't know if she'd survive the ending.

❗️❗️🔞