Taming The Psychopath Nextdoor

WARNING: This story contains explicit contents that's not suitable for young readers. Please read at your own risks.

HERAIAH ‘Hera’ BAUTISTA

My lips are pressed tight as I sling a shoulder bag over one arm and drag a heavy suitcase behind me. I approach the bus conductor, hand over my luggage, then step inside.

The bus is nearly full, but a seat waits at the very back. I hurry there and sink into it.

I let out a deep, shuddering breath before fixing my gaze on the empty seat across from me. My heart hammers against my ribs; each passing minute winds the knot of anxiety in my gut tighter. My hands are cold, my mind a whirl of unease.

“Calm down… he won’t find you. He won’t find us…” I whisper to myself, rubbing my stomach in slow, soothing circles.

Almost three years ago, I witnessed a murder. The scene shook me to my bones and drained the strength from my limbs. The killer tried to silence me too, but fate twisted the moment on its head. With one swing of my shovel, I came close to ending him instead. I thought I’d be locked up for what I’d done, that both of us would be hauled to the police station. That never happened. Instead of prison walls, we were trapped in a life woven from lies I’d spun with my own hands. After that night, the man fell into a coma that lasted a year. My father’s men and I tended to him while he lay helpless in bed. I was terrified—so terrified—knowing a criminal slept just down the hall from my room. But little by little, I forced myself to pretend it was all normal, that no dangerous stranger was hidden away in one of my home’s quiet rooms.

Then came that fateful night.

I woke to find him above me, kissing me, touching me. I thought my end had come. Instead, I discovered he’d lost every trace of his past. He couldn’t even remember his own name. He looked like a hollowed-out Russian doll: hard edges and a shell, with nothing left inside but a will to live. That’s when my plan took root. I seized on his confusion, took advantage of his vulnerability. Out of fear, I lied to him and told him I was his wife.

He believed me. He leaned on me. For over a year, I played the part of his spouse—all for the sake of survival. But him? He trusted me completely, convinced I was all he had in the world. I’d fooled him good, until a month ago when his memories finally flooded back.

Zeus… instead of ending me, he gave me time to run, to hide from him.

And now, I’m free. The charade is over. So why does my chest feel so heavy? Why do tears burn my eyes when I think of him?

The tears spill over at last. I squeeze my eyes shut and press my hand to my face, ashamed of the stranger beside me seeing my grief.

I should be happy. I should be celebrating my escape. But I feel nothing but misery, loneliness, a sharp searing ache.

I let out a soft, broken laugh as the truth hits me like a slap. I’m not stupid. I’m not blind. I must have been gaslighting myself all those months we spent together. But now, I can’t keep pretending.

Zeus… who would have thought I’d fall for you?

Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine I’d give my heart to the so-called psychopath I’d kept hidden in my home. So please… find me. Find us, Zeus.

THADDEUS ‘Zeus’ VITALE

“So? How was it? Hmm? How’d your little house-play act go over there in the Philippines, Vitale?”

I glare at Apollo, the man who just spoke.

“Whoa! Easy with the death stare, dude! Don’t tell me you liked playing husband and with out there?” he marvels.

We’re in his office—or more accurately, his lair. The room is crammed with monitors and computers; Apollo is the Cosa Nostra’s most infamous hacker after all.

“Why aren’t you talking? Did you actually enjoy—”

“I wasn’t myself back then, Apollo. I was a damn fool, a hollow doll with nothing but a shell.”

And yet, I still crave her. I know how twisted our situation was. She made a mockery of me, convinced me we were husband and wife.

But I know she did it out of fear. Who wouldn’t be scared of a man they’d seen take a life?

Then why… why did she hold me like I mattered? Why did every touch, every word, feel so real?

Why?

Why does it feel like I truly love her?

Why do I ache for her now?

I let out a bitter laugh. Apollo quirks an eyebrow at me.

“Yep, you’ve lost it, Vitale. You’re—”

“Yeah. You’re right.” I cut him off, still smiling darkly. My eyes drift to his screens. “Find her, Apollo. Track her down. Now.”

“What?!” He stares at me, stunned. I just raise an eyebrow in reply.

“You’re serious?” he presses. My silence is answer enough. He sighs deeply. “Alright, alright—you’re dead serious.”

“You know I don’t work for free, Vitale. This’ll cost you half a million dollars.”

I smirk. “Even if it cost a million, I’d pay every penny to find her.”

He shakes his head and starts typing furiously on his laptop. “This is insane. Thaddeus Vitale—the coldest bastard I know—head over heels for a woman who lied straight to his face. Man, the others need to hear about this. This’ll be gold.”

I say nothing, turning to step out onto the balcony.

“Hera… I hope you’ve hidden well enough that I can’t find you.” My gaze fixes on the full moon hanging bright in the sky.

I told you to run, to disappear. But don’t you dare think you can move on with another man and pretend I never existed. If you’ve found someone else, Hera, I won’t hesitate to end him.

From the moment I tasted your innocence, your very essence, you became mine. Only mine.

You have to take responsibility for taming the so-called psychopath you kept locked away in your home.