The next morning I woke up on the basement floor, body bruised and sticky, every muscle singing with the memory of Azrath’s c***s splitting me open. My phone buzzed beside me, Julian’s i********: story still up from last night.
Except now it was gone.
The post no longer existed. His profile still showed 1.2 million followers, but when I scrolled through his grid, there were gaps. Missing photos. Missing captions. Like someone had gone through with surgical precision and erased pieces of his perfect life.
I smiled, slow and vicious.
Azrath had started.
I didn’t have to wait long for the first real sign.
By noon the city was buzzing. A financial gossip account, one of those anonymous ones with 800k followers dropped a thread:
“Breaking: Major VC firm facing emergency board meeting aft
