Page 66 of Griffin

But Michael didn’t belong to the wolf. He didn’t belong to anyone.

Except him. Only him.

The stalker’s fingers hovered over his keyboard, hesitating before typing out another message to Michael’s private account.

He’d sent dozens already, but Michael hadn’t responded.

His beloved had ignored him, and the sting of that rejection burned like acid, eating away at his resolve.

Every time he thought about the unanswered messages, the silence that stretched between them, it felt like a slap to the face.

But it wasn’t Michael’s fault. Of course not. It couldn’t be.

Michael was pure, kind, and trusting—a little too trusting. That wolf, with his predatory eyes and smug smile, had likely gotten into Michael’s head.

Whispered lies. Fed him doubts. How dare he?

The boyfriend had probably read the messages, intercepting them before Michael even had the chance to see.

Or worse, maybe he’d forced Michael to delete them, keeping him under his thumb like some kind of tyrant.

“He’s controlling him,” the stalker muttered, pacing the room in sharp, jerky movements.

His bare feet scuffed against the threadbare carpet as his paranoia built into a storm inside his head.

“That wolf doesn’t want Michael to hear the truth. He knows I’ll open Michael’s eyes, that I’ll help him see what’s really going on.”

The idea of it made his blood boil. Michael wouldn’t recognize the danger he was in.

That’s why he needed someone like him—someone who had been watching out for him all this time.

Someone who truly understood him, who had been there from the beginning, long before this wolf had slithered into his life.

The stalker’s hands clenched into fists, his nails digging into his palms until they left angry red crescents.

He pictured the boyfriend standing over Michael, barking orders, telling him who he could and couldn’t talk to.

It was sickening. It was wrong.

Michael deserved to be free, to be loved unconditionally, not trapped in the claws of someone so dangerous.

He stopped pacing and leaned against the wall, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. His reflection in the darkened window stared back at him, eyes wide and feverish.

“It’s not your fault, Michael,” he said softly, almost tenderly, as if speaking directly to him. “You’re too kind. Too good. That’s why he’s taking advantage of you. But don’t worry—I’ll fix it. I’ll make it right.”

His mind raced with plans. He needed to find a way to free Michael from the wolf’s clutches, to show him that there was another way.

That there was someone who loved him purely, selflessly, without any ulterior motives.

But first, he needed to be careful. The wolf was dangerous, unpredictable. If he made the wrong move, it could all blow up in his face.

He needed to wait for the right moment, to strike when the wolf least expected it. And when that moment came, Michael would finally be free.

“You’ll see, Michael,” he whispered, his voice trembling with both fury and devotion. “You’ll see that I’m the one who truly loves you. That wolf won’t keep us apart for long. I promise you that.”

His reflection in the window seemed to sneer back at him, urging him on, feeding the dark fire that burned within him. He would have Michael. No matter what it took.

He hit play again on the stream, watching the boyfriend’s face appear in the background.

---