LOGINHe promised to protect him from a killer. He never said he was one. When journalist Ian Parker witnesses a brutal murder, he should have been the killer's next victim. Instead, he wakes up in the hospital, saved by Zhedya Hunter…a brilliant forensic pathologist, a reclusive CEO, and a man with chilling grey eyes that feel hauntingly familiar. Charismatic and dangerously possessive, Zhedya offers Ian shelter in his opulent penthouse, a gilded cage where every comfort is a chain. As Zhedya's obsession deepens, Ian's career skyrockets, with damning evidence against the city's most wanted criminals mysteriously falling into his hands. But each exclusive story comes with a price: a fractured memory, a drugged haze, and a growing pile of bodies connected to anyone who threatens their twisted paradise. Now, Ian is trapped in a nightmare of luxury and lies, unraveling a truth more terrifying than any headline: his savior is a predator, his sanctuary is a crime scene, and the man who claims to love him is the most prolific murderer he will ever interview. Learning how to love a murderer is easy. Surviving him is the real story.
View MoreChapter One Hundred and Forty Five: The End A massive property in the Swedish countryside. The house looked like something from a fairy tale..old stone, tall windows, ivy climbing the walls like it had been there forever. It sat on acres of land, green fields stretching to the horizon, a forest in the distance that seemed to hold secrets. Horses grazed in a fenced pasture. A vegetable garden grew near the kitchen. This wasn't just a house but this was a home. In the middle of a large field, a horse walked in slow circles, guided by an instructor. On its back, a ten-year-old girl with blonde hair grinned like she was flying. Lily had grown so much. She was tall and confident now, her grey eyes bright with joy in a way that made Ian's heart ache every time he saw it. She gripped the reins with practiced ease, laughing as the horse picked up speed, her hair streaming behind her like a banner. On the edge of the field, Ian stood watching, one hand shielding his eyes from the
Chapter One Hundred and Forty Four: My Reward. (Three Years Ago) Elena's apartment was small and cluttered, the kind of place that showed someone was struggling without them having to say a word. Empty takeout containers on the counter, growing stale. Unpaid bills scattered on the table like confetti from a party no one wanted to attend. A box sat on the kitchen counter…small and discreet, the kind that came from a clinic, the kind that held decisions too heavy for one person to carry. Elena jumped when she saw him standing in her doorway. Her hand flew to her chest, heart pounding so hard she could feel it in her throat. "How did you get in here?" Zhedya walked past her like he owned the place, calm as still water. "The door was unlocked or better still, broken." "I don't want you here." Her voice shook. "Get out." Zhedya ignored her completely. He strolled slowly through her living room, taking in the mess, the evidence of her life falling apart piece by piece. He sto
Chapter One Hundred and Forty Three: I’m So Lonely Without Him Three Years Later Morning light streamed through the windows, warm and golden, the kind of light that was supposed to feel hopeful. Ian's apartment was lived-in, messy in that way that meant children lived here and not just adults with their clean lines and empty spaces. Lily's artwork covered the fridge like a gallery of a growing up. Baby toys scattered on the floor, waiting for little feet to trip over them. A toddler's high chair sat in the corner, still crusted with yesterday's breakfast because Ian hadn't had the energy to scrub it last night. Three years. Three years of this life and of building something new. Ian moved through the apartment with practiced ease, a two-year-old boy on his hip. Mateo had dark hair and curious eyes, the same eyes as his biological father, but his smile was all Ian's. He babbled something incomprehensible and patted Ian's face with sticky fingers, leaving behind a smear of s
Chapter One Hundred and Forty Two: The Push Ian and Lily walked out of Elena's apartment building in the late afternoon, Ian carrying a bag of groceries he'd helped bring in. Lily skipped ahead, her little legs full of that endless energy only kids have, completely oblivious to the weight her father carried in his chest. By evening they were buckled into the car, Ian's hands steady on the wheel even as his mind churned in a thousand different directions. Elena had been struggling hard this pregnancy, even worse than with Lily, and Ian had spent the afternoon helping her organize, cleaning up, making sure she had food she could actually keep down. It was the least he could do. Lily bounced in the back seat, her usual endless energy on full display. "Daddy? What's wrong with Mama?" Ian glanced in the rearview mirror at those grey eyes, curious and concerned in the way only children can be when they sense something they don't understand. "She's just tired, bug. Grown-up stuff."
Chapter One Hundred and Thirty Three: My Devil is Bulletproof Zhedya stood at the back of the car, hand on the boot latch. The officer waited, flashlight still glowing. Ian stood frozen a few feet away, phone still in his hand, Elena's voice still echoing in his ears, his heart slamming against
Chapter One Hundred and Twenty Two: A New Life. The apartment was small and white and empty, the kind of empty that felt louder than noise. Church bells rang in the distance, soft and constant, like the town itself was breathing. Ian stood in the middle of the living room with his suitcase at
Chapter One Hundred and Twenty Five: You Are Dead To Me. The door slammed open so hard it bounced off the wall. Ian burst in, breathing like he'd run the whole way home, his heart pounding so loud it drowned out everything else. He moved through the apartment like a man possessed, grabbing what
Chapter One Hundred and Twenty Seven: Pinky Promises The early morning light filtered through the curtains, soft and pale, the kind of light that was supposed to feel gentle. Ian felt none of it. He lay in bed, eyes open, head pounding like someone was using his skull for drum practice. Each pu






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