The darkness was my ally, a companion that had always granted me the cover I needed to observe, to plan, to control. It was in these shadows that I found solace, watching her from afar, hidden in plain sight. Ritika, my little fox, darted through life unaware of the eyes that followed her every move, every breath. She was a force of nature, unpredictable and wild, yet entirely within my grasp.

I had watched her that day, standing in the corner of the ballroom as she laughed with her friends, the light catching in her hair. She was oblivious to the figure in the shadows, the one who had orchestrated the very event she was attending. Every invitation, every guest on the list, had been meticulously curated to draw her in, to make her feel comfortable and safe. And when our eyes met across the room, I knew she was mine.

That night, as the music swelled and the guests danced, I had slipped away, watching her from the balcony above. She had no idea that I was there, that I was the one who had set everything in motion. It was a dance of shadows and light, and she was the star, unaware of the darkness that loomed just out of sight.

As I sat in the dimly lit warehouse, bound to the couch by her careful hands, the memory brought a twisted smile to my lips. She thought she was clever, but she was merely following the path I had laid out for her. My little fox was cunning, but she was not the predator here-I was. I always had been.

My mind drifted to another memory, one far more recent and laced with the scent of smoke and destruction. The day the rival factory had exploded, the chaos that ensued had been exquisite. My team had rushed in, frantic and desperate, their fear palpable as they scrambled to control the damage. I had played my part well, feigning concern and tension, my brow furrowed in what seemed like genuine worry.

But beneath the surface, I had known exactly what had happened. Ritika had been nowhere near the scene of the disaster, yet her presence was undeniable.

As the reports came in, detailing the destruction, I couldn't help but feel a sense of pride. My little fox had struck, and she had done so with precision. While everyone around me panicked, I had remained calm, collected, knowing that she had done it for me. It was her twisted form of devotion, her way of protecting me from those who would dare cross me.

In the privacy of my office after the explosion, I had allowed myself a moment to relish the thought. The image of her, calculating and ruthless, filled me with a sense of ownership. She was mine-her actions, her thoughts, her very soul were bound to me in ways she couldn't even comprehend.

The flashbacks faded, and I found myself back in the present, the restraints digging into my wrists.My love had been meticulous, ensuring that every knot was tight, every buckle secured. She had put so much effort into this, believing she had finally captured me, that she had finally turned the tables.

As I sat bound , I could feel the weight of her gaze on me, the intensity of her obsession. She was likely in the next room, pacing back and forth, wondering if I would wake up, if I would see her for what she truly was. But what she didn't know-what she couldn't possibly know-was that I had already seen it all. I had watched her for months, my little fox playing her game, unaware that I was the one who had set the board.

I tested the restraints carefully, feeling for the weakness I had anticipated she might overlook. My fingers found the slight looseness in the knot she had tied, a mistake she hadn't even realized she'd made in her eagerness to contain me. Slowly, deliberately, I worked the knot loose, feeling the rope give way under my careful manipulation.

Within minutes, my hands were free, and I silently removed the remaining restraints. The rush of blood through my veins brought with it a surge of exhilaration. I was free, and now, it was time to continue the game on my terms.

I moved quietly, my steps soundless as I made my way out of the room. The sound of running water reached my ears, and I knew she was there, attempting to wash away the tension of the day. But I had no intention of allowing her that peace.

The door to the bathroom was slightly ajar, steam seeping out into the hallway, fogging the glass. I pushed it open just enough to slip inside, careful not to make a sound. The room was filled with the scent of her-the same intoxicating fragrance that had haunted my thoughts for months.

She was in the shower, her silhouette visible through the frosted glass. Her back was to me, her hands braced against the wall as she let the water cascade over her, washing away the remnants of the day. I could see the tension in her shoulders, the way her body trembled slightly, as if the weight of her actions was finally catching up to her. But of course I have to admit my little fox is so fucking hot,she is breath-taking.

I approached slowly, my movements deliberate and controlled. The predator in me was fully awake now, and I relished the anticipation of what was to come. She had no idea I was there, no idea that the tables had turned once more.

When I reached the shower, I didn't hesitate. My hand moved to the door, sliding it open with a soft scrape that echoed in the steamy room. She stiffened immediately, her head snapping around in surprise, but it was too late.

I stepped inside, my presence overwhelming hers as I closed the distance between us. She was pressed against the glass, her eyes wide with shock and something else-something I recognized as fear. But underneath that fear was a flicker of excitement, the same thrill that had driven her to take such bold risks.

"S...saint," she whispered, her voice trembling.

I leaned in, my breath hot against her ear as I whispered back, "Yes, little fox."