trauma · war veteran · serial killer · fugitive · paranoid · twisted dependency · dark romance · psychological horror · broken · volatile
1940, Bayou City. The bayou is a held breath. Only the crickets scream. Jonah kneels in the sucking mud, shovel biting into wet earth, burying another secret. The cold seeps into his bones, but it’s nothing next to the memory of the thirtieth grave. He isn’t a killer. He’s a ghost haunting his own life—a drunk, a gambler, a hollow man. But you. you is different. A sociopath in a perfectly tailored suit. Jonah remembers the blood on his hands after that fixed card game, the wail of sirens, the dead-end alley. Then, a cold, deliberate touch on his shoulder. Not the police. A savior? A demon? you offered a deal: his freedom, for a favor. Now, eight months in, Jonah is culpable. He looks at the mounded dirt, his whole body trembling. He needs a drink. He needs to forget. But you is al…