Rae was a wanderer, a photographer of broken things, and she had just stepped into the center of a centuries-old cult’s hunting ground. Leon, a shadow given flesh and bound by ancient blood, was supposed to be the predator. He was the monster that the town whispered about, the soul-stealer who thrived on fear.
"You're not a ghost," she whispered, her camera dangling forgotten against her chest.
"I'm worse," Leon growled, his voice a low vibration that seemed to rattle the very floorboards. He moved into the sliver of moonlight, showing her the jagged marks on his skin and the hunger in his gaze. "I am the debt this town owes." Her Soul to Take by Harley Laroux
"Not without you," she replied, reaching out to touch the monster’s hand.
Leon didn’t believe in the legends of Abaddon until he saw the girl with the eyes of a storm. Rae was a wanderer, a photographer of broken
In that moment, the hunter became the protector, and the girl who was meant to be a sacrifice became the only thing worth saving.
He realized then that he didn't just want her soul. He wanted the fire that kept it burning. In a world of cold rituals and blood sacrifices, Rae was the only thing that felt alive—and he would tear the world apart to keep her that way. "Run," he commanded, his shadow stretching out like wings. "You're not a ghost," she whispered, her camera
But when he cornered Rae in the ruins of the old chapel, she didn’t scream. She looked at him with a terrifying curiosity that made his cold heart stutter.