The Stalker Next Door: 25. Threads in the Dark

Mara didn’t sleep that night.

Even when the first Watcher finally relented and left her in the locked bedroom again, the tension in her chest wouldn’t let her. The memory of the second one’s fingers grazing her throat, the low challenge in his voice as he mocked the first — it all pulsed through her like a poison.

Two men. Both predators. Both dangerous. But not aligned.

That was her opening.

She couldn’t fight them head-on, not yet. She couldn’t overpower their bodies. But she could work on their minds. And minds, she realized grimly, were often weaker than flesh.

By morning, she had her plan.

When the first Watcher came to unlock her door, carrying a tray with toast and boiled eggs, Mara was already sitting on the bed, hands folded neatly in her lap, hair brushed smooth.

His gaze swept her, assessing. “You’re ready.”

“Yes,” she said softly. She lifted her eyes to him — not with defiance, but with just enough hesitation to make her se