A crazy stalker

MIGUEL

I sucked in a sharp breath, the cold air biting my lungs as I moved away from the wall. My body shook, still buzzing from where Salvatore’s fingers grazed my face. I looked around the street which was alive with flickering lights and stumbling drunks. Nobody seemed to notice me.

I was just another shadow slipping through the chaos. I forced my legs to move. I needed my bed, my locked door, and something solid to shut out the mess in my head.

But as I walked, something pricked at the edge of my vision. A shape, too steady to be drunk, was trailing just out of sight. My gut twisted. I didn’t turn my head or give away my tension. I kept moving, darting my eyes to the corner to avoid a surprise hit.

There it was again. A broad form, lurking, sticking to the shadows like a damn ghost. My pulse kicked up. No way I was leading this creep straight to my place. I had enough to deal with at home. I couldn’t add lewd visits from a horny weirdo. 

I veered left suddenly and ducked into an alley. The walls closed in, the air thick with rotting trash and stale piss. I’d catch whoever it was here, pin them down, and make them regret tailing me. My hand hovered over my knife, ready to slice into skin. But as I rounded a bend, I stumbled into two guys leaning against the bricks, their cigarettes glowing red in the dark. 

They straightened up and eyed me as smoke curled from their mouths.

“Well, look at this,” the taller one drawled, flicking his cigarette to the ground. His grin stretched wide, his yellow teeth glinting under the faint streetlight. “Pretty boy lost his way.”

The other one, shorter with a buzzcut, stepped closer, exhaling a cloud that stung my nose. “Bet those curls feel real nice wrapped around my fingers. Come here, sweetheart, let’s see what’s under that jacket.”

I stood still and watched them circle me like dogs sniffing a meal. The tall one licked his lips, slow and deliberate. “Gonna strip you down, see that tight little ass. Bet you squeal real sweet when we take turns.”

“Back off,” I warned in a low voice, giving them the chance to bug off. My hand rested on my knife, but I kept it sheathed… for now.

Buzzcut laughed, then suddenly lunged forward and grabbed my arm. His fingers dug into my skin, almost drawing blood. That was it. I moved fast, driving my knee into his stomach hard enough to double him over. 

He wheezed and choked on his spit, and I yanked my knife free, slicing a quick line across his shoulder. 

“Fuck!” 

Blood welled up, slicking down, and soaking his shirt as he stumbled back.

The tall one gasped, then suddenly charged at me, swinging his fists, but I sidestepped and planted a foot behind his leg. 

He tripped, the momentum carrying him forward, and I seized the opportunity to slash his arm. He howled, clutching the cut, as blood dripped between his fingers.

“You little bitch!”

“Just wait there!”

They staggered to their feet, glaring at me, but I didn’t wait to see if they’d try again. I spun around and bolted.

But even before I moved, I still caught the eerie stare of that bulky silhouette watching from the shadows at the alley’s mouth. Those damn eyes burned into me, unblinking, eerie as hell.

I kept moving with my knife still out and those bastard’s blood slick on the blade. The alley spat me out onto the next street, quieter now, with just the hum of distant cars. 

I didn’t run, not yet. 

I walked fast until I hit a corner with a low wall. Perfect. I slipped behind it and pressed my back to the cold stone, calming my erratic heartbeat. My grip tightened on the knife. Whoever was following me wouldn’t get far.

Footsteps echoed closer. I held still, counting the seconds. The sound rounded the bend and I lunged, slamming the blade to the throat before they could react. My eyes locked on his, and my breath hitched.

Salvatore. The bastard followed me!

His dark gaze met mine, calm, steady, like the steel pressed to his neck was nothing.

“Put the knife down, Miguel,” he said in a smooth voice with no hint of fear. “I just want you for myself.”

I pressed the blade harder, feeling his pulse thrum under it, but he didn’t even flinch. “I’m not your damn property,” I snapped, voice shaking with anger, with something else I wouldn’t name.

He tilted his head, just enough to make my hand twitch. “Stay away from me,” I warned, staring him down, and waiting for him to back off. He didn’t.

“Can’t promise that,” he said softly like it was a fact I’d have to live with.

“I don’t want you following me around, you fucking—“

“Salvatore. It’s Salvatore.”

I blinked in disbelief. “Don’t you understand? I do not give a fuck about you or your name!” 

My heart slammed against my ribs, fear creeping in now. Nothing was working. Not the knife, not the threats. I stepped back, keeping the blade up, my hand trembling. He took a step toward me.

“I said stay away!” I shouted, my voice cracking as it bounced off the walls. “Leave me the fuck alone!”

My eyes flicked over him, tracing the black shirt stretched tight across his chest, hugging the biceps that bulged under the fabric. A tattoo peeked out, dark ink curling from his collar, sharp against his skin. His jaw was hard and shadowed with stubble. And those eyes—fuck, those eyes—amber as lit coals, piercing into me like they could see straight through my skull. 

Salvatore didn’t move. He watched me intently, his lips curving into a smile. “You look so beautiful,” he murmured, calm as anything. “More than anything I’ve ever seen.”

I froze. His words hit me like a punch. My throat closed up, panic clawing at me. “I’m fucked,” I whispered under my breath, barely audible. Then I turned and bolted, my legs pumping as I tore into the night.