Little Doll

The rain drizzled down in thin sheets, blurring the city lights into a hazy glow. From a shadowed alley, he stood, watching, waiting. His hands were steady and gloved, but his pulse quickened as she came into view. It had been weeks now. Weeks of trailing her movements, memorizing her habits, and silently protecting her without her knowing.

She was oblivious to the danger that lurked in the dark corners of her life, and he kept it that way. He was used to being invisible, slipping in and out of people's lives without leaving a trace. It was his job. But this time, it was different.

This time, it wasn’t just about a contract.

He had seen her by chance during a mission — just a glimpse at first, a fleeting moment as she passed by a cafe window. The sun had lit up her soft brown hair, and for a split second, she had turned her head, her wide eyes locking with his through the glass. That was when something inside him shifted.

He started following her. Not for work. Not for money. But because she was his now, even if she didn’t know it yet.

“Little Doll,” he whispered under his breath, as he watched her slip into the bookstore where she worked, her movements graceful and unguarded. The nickname had come to him early on. Something about the fragility in the way she moved, like she could break if the world got too rough.

He liked that.

She was different from the others. She was soft in a world he only knew as hard. Where he dealt in blood and shadows, she brought light, even if she didn’t realize it. He had kept his distance at first, content to watch from afar. But soon, just observing wasn’t enough. He wanted more.

He started making his presence known in small ways. An extra tip left behind at the cafe she visited, an anonymous bouquet on her doorstep, always careful to stay just outside her peripheral vision. He needed her to sense him, to feel him near.

And she did.

She had started glancing over her shoulder more often, her steps quickening as she made her way home in the evenings. Sometimes, she would linger at the front door, her fingers fumbling with the keys, eyes searching the darkness beyond her streetlamp’s glow.

But she never saw him. Not really.

He had perfected the art of hiding in plain sight.

He’d let it build, day by day, week by week until he knew she felt the pull of him even if she couldn’t explain it. That’s what he wanted. For her to feel his presence everywhere — at the edge of her consciousness, in her dreams. It was only a matter of time now.

And tonight, it was time to make his move.

He waited until the street was empty, the world around them asleep. She had just locked up, her breath visible in the cool night air. She wrapped her coat tighter around herself, but she wasn’t alone anymore. He could feel her pulse quicken, could hear the faintest hitch in her breath as she sensed him, even though she couldn’t see him.

Stepping out of the shadows, he moved silently, a predator closing in on its prey. His footsteps were soft, and precise until he stood just behind her. She froze, as if some primal instinct warned her of the danger, but it was too late.

His hand brushed her shoulder.

She gasped, spinning around, wide-eyed and trembling. His eyes locked onto hers, and for the first time, she truly saw him — not as just a figure in the periphery of her life but as the man who had been stalking her every move.

“Who— who are you?” she whispered, her voice a mix of fear and something else. She wouldn’t admit it yet, but a part of her had been waiting for this. Waiting for him.

He stepped closer, his gaze never leaving hers, his lips curling into a slow smile.

“I’m the one who’s been watching over you, Little Doll,” he said, his voice low, smooth like velvet in the quiet night. “The one who’s always been here.”

Her heart hammered in her chest, and she took a step back, but he didn’t let her get far. He was faster and stronger, and in an instant, his arm was around her waist, pulling her flush against him.

She struggled for a moment, but her resistance faltered as she looked up at him, something dark and possessive swirling in his eyes.

“You’re mine,” he murmured, his lips brushing against her ear, the finality in his voice sending a shiver down her spine. “You always have been.”

Her breath hitched again, and her body trembled in his grasp, but this time, it wasn’t from fear. She had felt his presence in every shadow, in every heartbeat. Somewhere deep inside, she had always known it would come to this.

“I…” Her voice trailed off, uncertain, caught between defiance and surrender.

But it didn’t matter.

He had already won.

With a firm yet gentle grip, he tilted her chin upward, forcing her to meet his gaze again. His thumb brushed against her lip, a silent claim. There was no escaping him now. He had decided long ago that she was his.

And tonight, she would know it too.