I’ve always wanted to be stalked. Turns out, I already am.

Signing that contract was supposed to give me control, masked strangers, the illusion of danger, and a fantasy I could walk away from. Except the men who answered weren’t strangers at all.

They chased me through cemeteries, cornered me in libraries, and left notes on my pillow while I slept.

I thought it was a game I controlled.

Then the masks came off.

They intercepted my contract. Hacked the website and manipulated everything to make me theirs. One of them has been watching me for months before I ever signed anything.

I should run, scream, or at the very least feel violated.

Instead, I feel alive.

Because while the rest of the world wants me polished and perfect, they want me to be theirs just how I am.

And the most terrifying part? I want them too.