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Cracks in the Glass.
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2025-10-26 18:15:04
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How To Love A Murderer. Then Hunting Ground.
Chapter Seventy-One: The Hunting Ground The apartment felt like a tomb. Dim, quiet, suffocating. Ian shoved the last of the plain, cheap clothes into his duffel bag, his hands trembling just a little. Just get out…get out and don’t look back. Living off cash, jumping at every shadow, terrified that using a credit card would light up some screen in front of Zhedya… it was eating him alive. He needed to vanish for good. His phone buzzed on the coffee table. An unknown number. His heart didn’t just skip a beat…it seized, cold and hard, in his chest. It had to be Zhedya . A new burner or anew game. He stared at it, the vibration humming against the wood, before snatching it up. “Hello?” His voice was tight, a thin attempt at control. The voice on the other end was wrong. Digitally warped, cold, like something speaking from the bottom of a well. “Ian Parker. If you want the truth about the monster you’re with, you need to see it for yourself.” “Who is this?” Ian demanded, his k
How To Love A Murderer. Props and Stages.
Chapter Seventy: Props and StagesThe interrogation room at BSI was too bright, the kind of fluorescent light that made everything look cheap and sickly. Zhedya sat perfectly still in the hard plastic chair, his tailored suit looking wildly out of place. A severe-looking lawyer with a sharp bob sat beside him, her fingernails tapping an impatient rhythm on the metal table.Across from them, Detective Miller looked tired. And Zhedya was playing on that."Detective, this is beyond absurd," Zhedya said, his voice a calm, reasonable ripple in the tense room. "It's a violation of my human rights. You've held me for days based on the word of a man you, yourself, have been trying to pin as a serial killer.”“A man who is, by every account, profoundly disturbed. Where is your evidence? Where is the logic?"His lawyer leaned forward. "My client is a respected businessman and philanthropist, not a character in one of your crime shows.”“We demand an immediate psychiatric review of this 'Loui
How To Love A Murderer. The Trap Closes.
Chapter Sixty Nine: The Trap Closes The morning sun was soft and golden, spilling across the pristine tiles of the villa's pool deck. Zhedya sat in his favorite silk robe, a cup of perfect black coffee in one hand, his other scrolling idly through his iPad. Then a notification pinged, a new update from Feral Minds. His thumb tapped the screen. The site loaded. His gaze, lazy and content, flicked over the headline. And the world stopped. AN INTERVIEW WITH DETECTIVE CALLISTA MONROE: UNMASKING THE MANIPULATOR BEHIND THE HEADLINES. His own name jumped out at him. Over and over. Paired with words like "evidence tampering." "Obstruction of justice." "Psychological coercion." And there, near the bottom, a line that made his blood run cold… "...sources suggest a deeper, more sinister connection to multiple unresolved homicides, including the Nicholas Chan case." It wasn't an article. It was a bomb. A declaration of war written in black and white for the entire world to see. Ian had
How To Love A Murderer. Conspiracy and Confusion.
Chapter Sixty Eight: Conspiracy and Confusion Ian sat on the edge of the sofa, hunched over like the world was too heavy for his shoulders. A towel, already stained rusty red, was pressed to a cut on his temple. His knuckles were raw and scraped, flecked with dried blood, he looked wrecked. John paced in front of him, his own heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs. He finally stopped, his voice cracking with worry. “Look at you!” John burst out, gesturing wildly at Ian. “You can’t let him do this to you, Ian! You can’t let him turn you into… into someone like him. Someone who does this!” He pointed at the blood. “We should be grateful he’s not pressing charges! Do you get that? You could be in a jail cell right now, not on the sofa!” Ian didn’t move for a long time. He just stared at a crack in the floorboards. When he finally spoke, his voice was hollow, a ghost of itself. “He won’t press charges,” Ian whispered, the words flat. “He probably likes me like this.
How To Love A Murderer. The Cut That Always Bleed.
Chapter Sixty Seven: The Cut That Always Bleed. Zhedya's hand was an inch from the restroom doorknob. Inside, Ian was pressed against the cold tile wall, his hand clamped over his own mouth. Tears down his face, hot and silent. His whole body shook with the effort of holding in the sob fighting to rip out of his chest. He had just hit ‘send.’Bzzt. Bzzt. Bzzt.The sound was sweet and melodic…the special tone Zhedya had chosen just for him. It sliced through the deadly quiet of the office.Zhedya’s hand froze. The intense, hunting look in his eyes faded, replaced by a flicker of distracted interest. He pulled his phone from his pocket, his gaze dropping to the screen.Ian: Come home. Now. Please. I’m sorry. I miss you.A slow, triumphant smile spread across Zhedya’s face, lighting up his features with cruel satisfaction. The scent, the paranoia… it was nothing. Ian was back at the penthouse, broken and begging for him to come back to him. He didn’t even glance at the bathroom doo
How To Love A Murderer. When It All Comes Out.
Chapter Sixty Six: When It All Comes Out. Zhedya stood in the doorway, holding the small, black velvet box like it was a treasure he’d unearthed. He flipped it open, the two platinum bands catching the light. A slow, smug smile spread across his face.“Well, well,” he purred. “Planning a little surprise for me, älskling?”Ian didn’t even turn around. He kept knotting his scarf, his shoulders so tight they ached. “Put it back,” he said, his voice flat. “It’s not for you. Or for us. I’m just holding it for a friend.”Zhedya chuckled, the sound too smooth, too knowing. He moved closer, plucking one of the rings out and holding it up like he was inspecting a diamond. “A pair of men’s bands? Come on, Ian. You don’t have any other ‘friends’ to buy these for.” His tone was playful, but when Ian finally glanced at the hallway mirror, he saw Zhedya’s reflection…his eyes were sharp, watching him like a hawk. “Unless there’s something you’re not telling me?”Finally turning, Ian let all his
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