They said the city was no place for innocence.

Its streets belonged to shadows, to the men who dealt in silence, bullets, and betrayal. But the moment she stepped into my world, all that noise—the guns, the cocaine, the blood—faded into something dangerous and intoxicating: her.

She wasn’t supposed to notice me. Not the way her eyes dissected me, as if she could see every hidden scar, every sleepless night, every sin I tried to bury. She looked at me like I was more than a weapon. And God help me, I wanted her to be right.

But she didn’t run.

No matter how many doors I slammed shut, she followed. No matter how many times I told her she shouldn’t want me, she smiled like she already belonged to my darkness.

What began as obsession burned into something fatal. She became my refuge and my ruin. And maybe I became hers.

I told myself I could keep her safe, that love could shield her from the blood that chased me. But love doesn’t save men like me. It destroys anyone who dares to believe in it.

This is not a story about heroes.

This is not a story about happy endings.

This is the story of how I lost myself to the only thing more dangerous than the life I lived—

her.

ELISE

I’m so tired these days. Too many patients, too much pressure. Even I feel like I need a psychologist now.

Psychology has been my passion since I was a teenager. I used to read psychology books for hours, analyzing people, helping anyone who came to me. I was a smart girl back then. But now? Now I curse myself for choosing this path. The people I deal with lately… they’re no joke.

I glance at the clock. One more session. My last patient of the day. With a deep breath, I push myself out of my chair and open the office door.

Sitting in the waiting area is a man around thirty. He looks up as the door opens and then slowly rises to his feet. He’s tall, broad-shouldered, with a trimmed mustache. Dressed in a fitted black shirt and black pants, he doesn’t look like any patient I’ve seen before.

“Hey… are you the next patient?” I ask politely, studying him.

For a moment he just stares, silent, his dark eyes fixed on me. Then finally, he answers in a low voice.

“Yeah. I called three days ago.”

So he is really a patient.

“Please, come in.”

We sit across from each other. I take a better look at him—his face is strong but troubled, tension written in every line. There’s so much going on behind those eyes.

“What’s your name?” I ask.

“Leonardo Franko,” he replies.

The name is French, but his accent… it’s off. Almost like he wants me to believe something that isn’t true.

“And your age?”

“I’m twenty-eight.”

I wasn’t far off. Around his thirties. I nod and meet his gaze again.

“So, how have you been feeling? What’s troubling you lately?”

His response is nothing but a cold glare. His eyes lock on mine, unblinking. I keep my expression calm, patient. Finally, he speaks.

“I can’t sleep at night. I have dreams.”

“What kind of dreams?” I ask gently, leaning forward to analyze him.

But he doesn’t answer. He just stares—his silence heavier than words. I fill the void.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about them right now. But if they’re tied to trauma from your past, or—”

Suddenly, his hand slams down on the desk, the sound sharp and violent. My voice dies in my throat. I simply watch him, my pulse quickening.

“It’s not my fault,” he says, voice rough. “It’s all because of him. He… he wants me…”

The words crumble. He stops, pressing his fingers to his forehead, staring down as if fighting something inside himself.

I study him carefully. The storm inside him is obvious—too many thoughts, too many secrets. I don’t know what he’s hiding, but it’s heavy.

“Listen,” I say softly, my voice steady, “whatever that person made you do—or still makes you do—it doesn’t define you. People destroy lives, commit terrible sins… but even then, they’re still human.”

Slowly, he raises his head, his eyes locking with mine. I hold his gaze as I continue.

“No matter what they made you do, I know you’re more than that.”

For a moment, silence swallows the room. His eyes don’t leave mine, dark and unreadable. Then, for the first time, the corner of his mouth twitches upward—an expression caught between a smirk and something far more dangerous.

“Are you sure about that, doctor?” he murmurs.

And just like that, I can sense that this man is someone with a lot of mysteries and deep secrets, and a chill runs through me.

✼ •• ┈┈┈┈๑⋅⋯ ୨˚୧ ⋯⋅๑┈┈┈┈ •• ✼

About the characters:

Leonardo / Dimitri - 28 years old, 1.88m tall, 78kg, dark hair, deep brown eyes. Mysterious, dark, and intense, he hides secrets that could change everything.

Elise - 26 years old, 1.67m, 54kg, short blonde hair, deep blue eyes. A young psychologist who stays professional and strong, even as danger and mystery closes in around her.

Prepare for suspense, psychological tension, and secrets that won't stay buried. 💀

The silence between us stretched, heavy and sharp. Leonardo leaned back in the chair, his hand still pressed against his temple as if trying to hold his thoughts inside. His eyes, dark and restless, flicked toward me again.

My heartbeat quickened, but I kept my face calm. Professional. Years of practice taught me never to show my emotions in front of a patient. Still, the way he looked at me, so unblinking, so unreadable, made a chill crawl up my spine.

“Leonardo,” I said softly, my voice steady even if my pulse was not, “these dreams… do they feel like memories?”

His lips twitched, a shadow of a smile, but it wasn’t warm. “They feel like warnings.”

Warnings. The word echoed in my head like the slam of a door. I gripped my pen tighter, careful not to let it tremble.

“From who?” I asked, pretending curiosity instead of the unease twisting in my stomach.

His gaze locked with mine, so sharp it was almost unbearable. “From myself.”

The air in the room felt heavier, pressing down on me. I swallowed, keeping my expression neutral. Inside, my mind was racing. Was he dangerous? Was he telling me a confession disguised as a dream?

I leaned slightly forward, acting composed. “You’re here now. Safe. Whatever you see in your dreams, it can’t harm you.”

He tilted his head, almost amused, and then his voice dropped lower. “I see them… when I close my eyes. Ghosts.”

A shiver ran through me, though I didn’t let it show. “Ghosts?” I repeated, calmly, though my chest felt tight.

His stare didn’t move. “They follow me. They never stop. I see their faces.”

I felt my stomach twist, but my voice stayed professional, even, reassuring. “What you’re experiencing, Leonardo, is linked to trauma. Trauma rewires the brain, it makes the past replay itself like it’s happening again. The mind uses dreams, visions, sometimes even hallucinations, to release what it can’t carry anymore.”

For a moment, he was silent. Then, a crooked smile spread faintly on his lips. “So that’s your answer, Doctor?”

The way he said Doctor, low, deliberate, didn’t sound like respect. It sounded like a challenge.

I held his stare, even though inside, fear gnawed at me. “It’s not an answer. It’s a possibility. And the more you talk, the closer we can get to the truth.”

His smile faded as quickly as it came. He leaned forward, so close that my breath caught. “Trust is dangerous, Doctor.”

Inside, panic screamed: Should I call the police? This man makes me feel unsafe. He could be dangerous.

But another thought crept in, quieter, more terrifying than fear itself:

I don’t want to let him go. I don’t want to push him away. All I want is to know more.

And that craving… was the most dangerous thing of all.