Alpha Maddox Is My Stalker

Iliana’s POV:

I was lost in the world of fiction when my own world slowed down to a sudden halt. I was getting that feeling. Again. For the hundredth time now.

Hair on the nape of my neck stood taller as my breathing became shallow. I clutched the book in my hands as if it were my only anchor.

‘It’s nothing. It’s just in your head.’ I chanted the mantra repeatedly, even though I knew it wasn’t only in my head. I wasn’t crazy. No matter what the police said, I couldn’t be paranoid enough to imagine the same horrifying thing again and again.

My heartbeat turned erratic, and ants started crawling all over my body, making me feel itchy in my own skin. I was being watched again. Like I’d been since the last few weeks.

With my heart in my throat, I gathered all the remaining courage and whipped my head around to look over my shoulder.

My eyes instantly closed, and my chest heaved with a breath of relief. The window was locked and the curtains were drawn. Just the way I’d been keeping them now.

For weeks, I was being watched. By whom, I had no idea. I had no evidence to prove this to anyone, but I have a stalker. Wherever I went, I felt eyes on me. Always. Everywhere…in the grocery store, on my way to the university, at the cafe, and even at the library.

My apartment was the only place left where I felt safe. Until now.

‘You’re okay. You’re in your apartment. You’re safe.’ I repeated it in my head while skimming the pages of the book, trying to act normal.

All of a sudden, I let out a loud gasp as the lights started flickering. Once. Twice. Then died. The blood rushing in my veins froze as the darkness swallowed me whole.

My legs trembled as I shot up from the couch. My phone. Where is my phone? In the utter darkness, I fumbled blindly in the shadows. My hands scraped around in search of the phone, but other than cold surfaces and empty air, I found nothing.

And then it clicked in my mind. I’d left it in the kitchen earlier. With my hands outstretched, I managed my way out of the room and, using my memory and disoriented coordination, I stumbled into the kitchen.

Through the tiny window, only a bit of moonlight was infiltrating, but it was enough for me to spot my phone on the counter.

I was just about to rush over when I heard it.

Click.

And then a creak as the front door opened slowly.

I instantly stopped breathing as my whole body went rigid with a mixture of shock and fear. My heart pounded in my ears like a ticking bomb.

No, it wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be. He couldn’t be here. Not my apartment too. Not my only remaining safe haven.

As soon as my mind processed the looming danger, a rush of adrenaline coursed through my body. As my survival instinct kicked in, I started looking around frantically for anything that could be used as a weapon.

A tiny ray of hope flickered inside me the moment I spotted the knife stand.

Thud. Thud.

My eyes widened as the sound of footsteps echoed in the pin-drop silence. Closing my fingers around the handle of the largest knife, I jerked around.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

The footsteps were now dangerously close.

God, he was coming. He was coming for me. After weeks of lurking in the shadows, he was finally here.

I’d rather welcome the Grim Reaper with wide, open arms because this feeling, this panic, was way more horrendous than the wildest nightmare.

One of my hands was clutching the knife while the other was gripping the kitchen counter to support my weak, trembling legs. With my eyes fixated on the entrance, I waited for the inevitable.

I was hoping that he would walk around the apartment while searching for me. That way, I’d at least get an idea about his height and build, to mentally prepare myself for the danger I was going to face.

And that’s why I found it very peculiar when he came straight into the kitchen as if he already knew I was there.

A shiver crawled down my spine. Oh God. I couldn’t believe my eyes. The man. The sick psychopath who had been stalking me for weeks was finally here, right in front of my eyes.

In the dim moonlight, I could only make out his silhouette. With his frame filling the entire doorway, he must be over 6 feet. As if that wasn’t enough, his wide shoulders and heavy build were enough of a realization that I was no match for his strength.

I swallowed the lump stuck in my throat as the dark figure tilted its head to the side as if watching me with amusement. Of course, he was enjoying every moment of misery, and that’s when a new wave of determination zinged through me, and I refused to die without a fight.

But my stomach clenched tightly as he took a small step into the kitchen. Short, ragged breaths were rushing out of me now.

Raising the knife in the air, I blurted out, “Stop right there.” My voice was thick with fear.

He was wearing a long black cloak. A hoodie covered the upper half of his face while the rest was hidden behind a mask. But I didn’t need to see his face to feel the malice oozing out of him. I could have bet my soul that he had descended straight from Hell.

A chill shook my insides as he drawled in a deep, mocking voice, “Hello to you too, Little Muse.”

His voice wrapped around me like a snake about to suffocate me to death. It was wrong. Too deep, too melodious. I tried to catch his accent, but he didn’t have one. Or maybe he was masking it deliberately.

A loud gasp wrenched out of me as he took another step toward me.

I tightened my grip on the knife and stammered, trying and brutally failing to sound confident, “Stay…right…there.”

I wondered if the words even left my mouth. If yes, they surely didn’t fall on his ears because he kept walking toward me. His strides were short and slow like a predator making his way toward a helpless prey. Like he had all the time in the world and wanted to enjoy every moment of whatever he’d planned to do to me.

My insides coiled at the thought, and I swallowed hard, “Stay away or I’ll stab you.”

Unbothered by my hollow threats, he kept strolling toward me fearlessly.

With every step he took in my direction, my heartbeat turned more dangerously erratic.

And I stopped breathing altogether as the footsteps halted mere inches away from me. Goosebumps rose all over my skin as he rasped in a dark and rough whisper, “I didn’t go against my whole existence only to be stopped by your threats, Iliana.”

My eyes widened. He knew my name. Of course, he did.

A cold wave swept over me upon hearing my name from his mouth. It rolled out smoothly. Way too smoothly, as if I were only named this for him.

Suddenly, my eyes fell to his hand, slowly lifting in the air.

Anger crept under my skin at my helplessness and his boldness. “Don’t you fucking dare touch me,” I gritted out through clenched teeth.

He had invaded my privacy. He had stolen my peace. But I’d be damned if he would lay his hands on me. That was something I would never allow him to get away with me.

Unaffected by my warning, he still brought his hand closer to my face. Blood that was frozen in my veins now started to bubble with hot rage.

My knuckles tightened around the knife.

I sucked in a sharp breath as he brushed the back of his hand down my cheek. His hot breath fanned over my cold skin as he whispered, almost dreamily,

"Just the way I imagined… and somehow even more. Soft enough to tempt, warm enough to burn, and pretty enough to ruin."

And just like that, he'd stolen another piece of me.

Before I knew it, my body sprang into action. My eyes clamped shut, and my hand jerked forward. I felt the sharp blade meeting the softness of flesh for a fleeting moment before rupturing all the way into the muscles.

Blood. Crimson and hot sprayed over my face.