The forest air feels colder the longer I stare at the name carved into the knife. Elena. The letters are jagged, carved with a hand that shook either from anger or excitement. I cannot tell which possibility is worse.
My fingers tighten around the handle. The metal is still warm from Adrian’s grip. That detail alone tells me he left it purposely. Not a mistake. Not something dropped in panic. A message. A signature. Proof that his obsession has shed the last remnants of restraint.
It confirms what I have feared for weeks. Adrian is spiraling into a place beyond reason. A place where consequences hold no weight and boundaries dissolve. He has always been dangerous, but this version of him lives inside a fever dream of violence and fantasy. And in that fantasy, Elena is no longer a target.
