WARNING!!

This chapter contains an attempted rape scene which some users may find disturbing. Please proceed with caution!

A taxi pulls up in front of a modest, single-story house nestled in a quiet, tree-lined neighborhood. The golden hues of the setting sun cast long shadows across the pavement, bathing everything in a warm, amber glow. The air carries the distant scent of freshly cut grass and barbecue smoke wafting from a neighborhood yard.

Ellery steps out of the car, her body heavy wth exhaustion after a long day. She stretches her arms over her head, rolling out the tension in her shoulders before reaching for her bag.

"Thank you," she said. The driver nods in acknowledgment of her gratitude before pulling away, the hum of the engine fading into the tranquil evening.

As she approaches the house, she notes the usual sounds of the neighborhood—the murmur of distant conversations, the occasional bark of a dog, and the rhythmic chirping of crickets. Everything feels... normal. Comfortable.

But when she steps onto the porch and reaches for her keys, an unsettling chill snakes down her spine.

The door is unlocked.

Ellery freezes, her fingers hovering above the doorknob. She and Mona were the only ones with keys, and Mona would never leave the door open like this.

Her heartbeat quickens.

She pushes the door open slowly, wincing as it creaks on its hinges. Dim light filters through the windows, casting strange, elongated shadows across the walls. The air inside feels different—charged, heavy with something unspoken.

Ellery swallows hard.

"Mona?" Her voice is steady, but her pulse races. Silence.

The furniture appears untouched, but something feels off. Her sense sharpens, scanning every inch of the space. That's when she hears it–a faint rustling sound from the couch, just beyond her line of sight.

Her stomach knots.

Taking slow, cautious steps, she moves toward the source of the noise.

"Mona? Is that you?"

A figure shifts.

Ellery's breath catches as someone sits up abruptly, ruffling his hair.

"Jesus—Bud!?"

There, lounging on the couch like he owns the place, sits Bud Carter—Mona's on-again, off-again boyfriend. He's dressed in a crisp white T-shirt that stretches over his lean, athletic build, the sleeves rolled slightly to reveal toned forearms. A dark navy blazer is draped lazily over the couch behind him, his usual worn leather messenger bag resting against the armrest. His black dress pants are slightly wrinkled, as though he's been sitting there for hours.

He looks up at her with amused golden-brown eyes, running a hand through his short, neatly cut dark hair. His expression is lazy, confident, exuding an effortless charm that has always grated on Ellery's nerves.

"Oh, hey," he greets casually, as if his presence isn't completely violating her sense of privacy.

Ellery storms toward him, slamming her bag onto the couch. "How the hell did you get in here!?"

Bud holds up a key between his fingers, twirling it playfully. "Mona gave me one."

Ellery's jaw tightens. Why would Mona give him a key? She's made it clear how she feels about Bud—he's reckless, unpredictable, and worst of all, he knows exactly how to manipulate Mona's heart.

She inhales sharply through her nose, reigning in her frustration.

Bud smirks, tilting his head. "Relax, princess. No need to look at me like I'm about to rob the place. I was waiting for Mona, but, uh... fell asleep."

Ellery folds her arms. "Well, Mona is not home and I have no interest in entertaining you, so leave."

Bud stands, stretching his arms above his head, and adjusts the watch on his wrist—an expensive one, sleek and minimalist. He looks polished, refined even, but there's still something undeniably, roguish about him. His posture is confident, bordering on arrogant, like someone who rarely hears the word no.

He grins. "I know Mona's not here. That's not why I stayed."

Ellery narrows her eyes. "Then why are you here?"

Bud steps closer, his gaze dipping over her before meeting her eyes again. "I wanted to see you."

Ellery recoils slightly, caught off guard. "Me?"

His lips curl into a slow, knowing smile. "Mmhmm."

There's something different in his gaze now—something heavier. Calculated.

Ellery's stomach twists. "Cut the crap, Bud. Whatever game you're playing, I'm not interested."

Bud chuckles, low and smooth. "Oh come on, Ellery. You're smart. You had to have noticed."

"Noticed what?"

He licks his lips, eyes darkening as they sweep over her figure. "That you're sexy as hell."

Ellery stiffens.

A bitter laugh escapes her. "Are you serious right now?"

Bud's smirk deepens, utterly unbothered. He takes a lazy step closer, his presence somehow managing to take up all the air in the room.

"Yes," he answers smoothly, like the answer was obvious, inevitable.

Ellery scoffs, shaking her head. "You're delusional."

Bud just shrugs, unfazed. "Maybe. But I'm also right."

Ellery folds her arms tightly across her chest, a barrier between them. "I have a boyfriend, Bud."

His expression doesn't change, but something flickers behind his eyes—amusement, curiosity, something unreadable. "Yeah? And?"

Ellery lets out a sharp breath, her frustration bubbling over. "And his opinions are the only ones that matter to me. Besides, you're dating my best friend, you piece of trash! How dare you say shit like that to me?"

Bud rolled his eyes, as if there was nothing wrong with his actions, and Ellery snaps.

"Get out!"

Bud steps forward, challenging her, and before she could react, he catches her wrist. His grip is firm—not painful, but unmovable.

Ellery's pulse spikes. "Let. Go."

His fingers tighten slightly as he pulls her close, the heat of his body pressing against hers. His scent—clean cologne mixed with a hint of cigarettes—makes her stomach churn.

"You're a little tense," he murmurs, voice low and coaxing. "You should let loose a little."

Ellery jerks her arm, but he does budge.

Her breath turns shallow. "Bud, I'm not playing with you. Let me go."

He lifts his other hand, brushing his fingers along the buttons of her blouse. "Why don't we have a little fun?"

Ellery reacts before she even thinks.

Her palm connects hard with his cheek.

The sharp crack echoes in the quiet house.

Bud flinches, his jaw tightening as he slowly turns his head back toward her. His cheek burns red where she struck him, but instead of anger, amusement flickers in his eyes.

"You're such a fucking turn-on," he muses, rolling his jaw. "Damn, I like them feisty."

Ellery's heart pounds against her ribs. Every nerve in her body screams for her to run.

She takes a step back. Then another.

Bud moves faster.

Before she can bolt, his arms seize her arms, and he shoves her onto the couch.

Ellery's breath hitches as his weight presses down on her, pinning her beneath him.

"No—get off me!" She thrashes, but he's stronger. His fingers slide along her jaw, titling her face toward his. "You smell so fucking good," he murmurs, trailing his lips along her cheek.

Ellery squeezes her eyes shut, panic surging through her veins.

"FUCK OFF!" she screams, twisting violently beneath him.

The door slams open.

"What the fuck is going on here?" Mona's voice rings out like a gunshot.

Bud stiffens.

Ellery gasps for air.