Chapter 2: The Predator’s Arrival
The heavy mahogany doors flew open, hitting the walls with a force that rattled the foundation. The Lover—Chloe’s partner in life and, as the Rival would soon learn, in schemes—didn't run. He moved with the terrifying speed of a man who had anticipated this moment for months. He reached Chloe’s side, his hands hovering over her, his expression a frantic blur of human sorrow.
But then, the transformation occurred.
His grief didn't fade; it solidified. It hardened into a calcified, bone-chilling rage that seemed to draw the warmth from the air. He didn't look at the guests; he didn't look at the police sirens wailing in the distance. He looked up, his eyes locking onto the Rival with a predatory intensity that turned the grand staircase into a scaffold. He didn't need to scream. He simply withdrew his phone from his pocket, his thumb hovering over the screen. He pressed "Play."
