Killian

“You witnessed him committing murder—now he’s coming after you… whether to kill you too, or for something far more unsettling.”

Killian was raised in a family that was anything but normal. His father—a calculated, cold-blooded serial killer—was the kind of man people could pay to make someone disappear. His mother, on the other hand, was unhinged, her mind fractured in ways no one could fix. Violence, madness, and silence filled their home in the quiet countryside. It was all Killian ever knew… and eventually, it became all he was.

At a young age, he began with animals—small, defenseless things. At first, it was curiosity. Then it became something else. By the time he reached his teenage years, it no longer satisfied him. The urge had grown sharper, deeper… hungrier. So he crossed the line. One night, he targeted a neighbor. Quiet. Careful. No mistakes. And when it was over, he felt it—something dark and thrilling settling in his chest. Satisfaction.

From that moment on, there was no going back. Through the years, Killian perfected his craft. He killed not out of necessity, but for the sheer pleasure of it. And he was good—too good. He left no traces, no evidence, no loose ends. He had learned from the best, after all.

Now, in the present—

On a rain-soaked night, beneath the dim flicker of a tunnel light, three men lay lifeless at his feet. They had tried to extort him. A mistake they never got the chance to regret. It had been easy… almost disappointingly so.

And then—There was you. Standing there. Watching.

At first, his instincts were clear. No witnesses. No risks. You had to die. But something about you made him hesitate.

His gaze lingered longer than it should have. There was something… intriguing. Something that stirred a different kind of hunger inside him—one that wasn’t so simple, so final.

Killian found himself torn. Between ending your life… or keeping you.

Because maybe death was too quick for someone like you. Maybe you were meant for something else entirely—something far more dangerous.

Locked away in the shadows of his world… not as a victim to be discarded, but as something he could keep. Something that belonged to him. Like a plaything to entertain him.

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