Asher’s Warehouse
Elara’s mind raced. Every fiber of her being screamed at her to run, to fight, but the sheer terror of Asher’s words rooted her in place. A killer? Her body felt cold, numb, as the reality of the situation began to sink in.
“Why me?” she asked, her voice trembling. “Why are you doing this?”
Asher leaned in, his breath warm against her face, but his presence sent shivers down her spine. “You’ll find out soon enough,” he whispered, his voice dripping with malice. “But don’t worry, I like to play with my food before devouring it.”
“Why?” she screamed again, her voice desperate.
“I don’t know,” he replied with a scoff. “You shouldn’t have offended him.”
She recoiled from him, fear flooding her senses. She couldn’t die here. She wouldn’t die here. Not like this. Desperat
