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I take another drag, holding the smoke until my lungs burn. It feels good–that burn from the inside out. He waits. When I finally exhale, the words tumble out with the smoke.

“No. Upset isn’t the right word.” I pause, ashamed of what I’m about to say. “I wanted to do it. I wanted to kill him and make him pay for all the hurt and chaos. My hands wanted it. My heart wanted it.” I touch the spot and look at him. “Is that crazy?”

“Probably.” He lets out a dark, low laugh. “But I understand it. All too fucking well.”

Hunter stares at me, the red ember of the cigarette reflecting in his eyes. I know he doesn’t like to share his thoughts with anyone. He’s quiet and private. I respect that, but I also want to know more. I want to know him more.

Across the yard, Ares barks sharply, then darts into the brush. “He’s a shit hunter,” he says, shaking his head. “I mean, he tries hard, but I think he’s mostly chasing ghosts out there.”

He takes one final drag, then drops it to the ground and crushes it beneath his boot. Hunter stares out into the darkness for a long time before he speaks again. The night air feels colder now, like it’s holding its breath along with me.

“That feeling you described?” he says, voice low and rough. “That urge deep in your chest–that itch? I know it, Nettie, more than I know myself. It scares me. It’s why I keep my distance.”

He takes a slow breath, like he’s steeling himself.

“I didn’t always have this level of control. Not even close.”

My heart thuds heavily in my chest. “Tell me what happened.”

Hunter rubs a hand over his jaw, then lets it drop. His eyes are distant, haunted, like he’s walking back into a room he never wanted to revisit.

“I told you about my dad and what I saw that night between him and that woman. That part was true. The voyeurism, the way he talked about control–all of it. But the story I gave you about how I learned to just watch and never touch? That was a lie. A pretty one that I told myself for a long time.”

“What do you mean it was a lie?”

He pauses, jaw flexing. “It started innocent enough–at least that’s what I told myself. I’d slip away from my father at work and crawl through the vents of the old dormitory buildings. I’d shift the slats and watch girls in the showers. In their rooms. Changing. Sleeping. Doing homework. At first, it was just curiosity. Then it became hunger, the kind that started to eat me alive.”

His voice drops even lower.

“It wasn’t really about their bodies. Sure, seeing all that bare skin made me hard as fuck. I was a teenager with zero experience and raging hormones. But what got me off the most was the power. The fact that I could see every secret part of them–every vulnerable moment–and they had no idea I was there. Breathing their air. Devouring them with my eyes. I was in complete control, and they were completely exposed.”

“But it didn’t stop there?” I ask.

“No.” He swallows hard. “There was this one girl, who lived on the third floor. Long dark hair, pretty smile. It was obvious everyone thought she was cute and sweet and pure as snow, but she had a boyfriend who was rough with her. He’d come over almost every night and fuck her like he hated her. Calling her names. Slapping her. Holding her down. She never fought him, but I could see in her eyes that she didn’t want it. Not like that.”

Hunter’s hands curl into fists on his thighs.

“It was like I’d been searching for them the whole time, bypassing the rooms with standard missionary sex, with the whispered, ‘I love yous.’ No. This was what I wanted. I’d crouch in the vent above her room and watch the whole thing. I’d jerk off while he used her–when he made her cry. Night after night. It became an obsession. I started timing my visits around when he’d be there. I needed to see it. Needed to feel that sick thrill of control.”

His voice cracks slightly.

“One night, I got too bold. I leaned forward too far. The boyfriend heard the vent grate shift, and he caught me. He came after me like a fucking animal, screaming that he was going to kill me. I crawled through the vents,” he cuts his eyes at me, “I had them memorized, but he was right behind me. I was almost out when a jagged piece of metal caught my belt loop. I got stuck, hanging there like a piece of meat.”

Hunter’s breathing changes, coming in and out shallower and faster.

“I was struggling to get free when my boot slammed into a live electrical conduit. The surge that went through me…” He shakes his head. “It was white fire. Pure agony. My entire body locked up. My jaw clenched so hard I thought my teeth would crack. I pissed myself. Convulsed so violently that I nearly broke my own neck. Then everything went black.”

He goes quiet and the only sound is the wind moving through the trees and Ares sniffing somewhere in the grass.

“I woke up in an ambulance. Oxygen mask on my face. My dad was there–pale as a ghost, covered in blood from ripping the vent open to get to me. He just kept saying the same thing over and over: ‘You could’ve died, Hunter. You could’ve fucking died.’”

Hunter finally turns and looks at me. His eyes are raw and exposed, more vulnerable than I’ve ever seen him.

“That near-death experience didn’t scare me straight, Nettie. It woke something darker up inside me. Made the hunger stronger. More violent. After that, watching wasn’t enough anymore. I started fantasizing about taking it further. About having that same control over someone who knew I was there. Someone who couldn’t get away.”

He reaches out and brushes his thumb across my cheek, his touch surprisingly gentle.

“When Timothy chose me to be a Baron, he gave me my biggest fantasy on a silver platter. But there were strings, and one of those was that you belonged to him, too. I had to lock in on my control more than ever. That’s why I keep my distance from you. Because every time I’m close to you, that old version of me comes roaring back. The version that wants to own you completely. To watch you when you’re vulnerable. To control every moan, every tear, every breath you take. I don’t trust myself not to break you.” His hand lifts, pushing a strand of hair off my cheek and behind my ear. He leans in closer, our bodies a breath apart. A shiver runs down my spine as his lips brush over the shell of my ear, his voice barely a whisper. “And the worst part? I think you’d let me.”