The Stalker Next Door: 8. Revelation

The morning after the breaking point, Mara expected emptiness.

She thought she would wake alone, the air stale with sweat and sex, the imprint of his body lingering only in scent and bruises. She thought he’d vanish back into the shadows like he always did, resuming his vigil at the window, leaving her to sort through the wreckage of her own choices. She thought she’d finally have space — space to breathe, to think, to decide what the hell she was doing with her life.

But when she opened her eyes, he was still there.

Stretched out beside her on the couch, broad shoulders slack with sleep, his chest rising and falling in steady rhythm. His face, softened in slumber, looked almost boyish. Not the predator who had growled against her throat hours ago, not the man who had slammed her against the door with possessive fury. Just a man, mouth slightly parted, lashes shadowing his cheekbones, one scar cutting faintly across his jawline.

Her first instinct was to recoil, to