Chapter Ten

I bolted, my legs barely holding me up as I stumbled down the hallway. Each breath burned my throat—sharp and desperate—but the sound behind me sent chills down my spine. The slow, deliberate scraping of claws against the walls. He was in no hurry—he didn't need to be. His movements had the confidence of something that knew exactly how this would end.

I skidded into the living room, my heart thudding against my ribs. I pressed into a corner, hoping to disappear into the shadows, but deep down, I knew it wouldn't matter.

The footsteps grew louder, heavier with each step. He wasn't rushing. He was savoring it, dragging it out like a sadistic game. My stomach churned with dread, and I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block out the terror gripping my body. My heart pounded so hard I could hear it in my ears.

But even with my eyes shut, I knew he had found me. It was like he could smell my fear, could sense exactly where I was huddled in the corner. He was coming closer—I could feel it in the thick, suffocating air. I braced myself, waiting for the attack, but it never came.

Cautiously, I cracked my eyes open, just a sliver, and what I saw stopped my heart.

The Creeper knelt in front of me, his glowing yellow eyes fixated on me with a strange curiosity. His towering form cast a shadow over everything. I was trembling, my body betraying me with uncontrollable shakes. If he could smell fear, like Alex had said, I was drenched in it.

He inched forward, his gaze never leaving mine. Then, with deliberate slowness, he opened his mouth. My breath hitched as a long, forked tongue slid out. Cold dread shot through me. He leaned in, his tongue reaching out to graze my face, leaving a wet, icy trail.

I braced for whatever horror was coming, but instead of attacking, he pulled back. I felt the shift in the air as he moved away, as if he was… waiting, watching me. Testing me.

A surge of panic raced through my veins. My body reacted before my mind could catch up. The instinct to do something, anything, to break the suffocating tension took over. My hand fumbled around, desperate to grab something—anything. It landed on the slipper on my right foot, my fingers curling around the soft leather. Without thinking, I took it off and hurled it at him.

It was a reflex—an act of sheer, desperate fear. But the second it left my hand, I realized how ridiculous it was. This wasn't some stray dog I could scare off with a shoe. He wasn't some tiny animal that would flinch at my slipper. He was a creature—a monster. Immense, terrifying, and entirely unbothered by the feeble attempt.

The slipper hit his shoulder with a dull thud, barely making an impact. For a moment, he stilled, his glowing yellow eyes narrowing as he looked down at the harmless thing I had thrown at him. I held my breath, heart racing, as he reached down and picked it up.

He brought the slipper to his face, inhaling deeply. His nose brushed against the fabric, almost tenderly, like he was savoring the scent. It was so bizarre, so wrong. My throat tightened, and I couldn't look away. There was no anger, no threat in his movements, just this unnerving fascination with the object I had thrown at him.

My mind spun, trying to process what was happening. It was almost like he didn't see my desperate move as an attack, but as something… interesting. His reaction wasn't rage or fury. It was intrigue.

He tossed the slipper aside, barely sparing it a glance, and his focus snapped back to me. His glowing eyes drifted downward, locking onto my chest. The damp stains on my shirt were fully visible. Panic flooded my veins as he leaned in, his head lowering toward me like he was catching a scent that drew him closer. His nose brushed the fabric, and I pressed myself harder against the wall, praying it would swallow me.

His lips parted, and he licked them, slow and deliberate, like he was savoring the moment.

I hugged my knees tighter, hoping it would make him stop,but it didn't. His cold hand gripped my knees, pulling them apart with terrifying ease. I was frozen, paralyzed by fear as he leaned closer.

His tongue flicked out, tasting the air, hunger gleaming in his yellow eyes.

Without warning, he tore my shirt open. The fabric tore,and the cool air hit my skin where the stain had spread. His fingers hovered over my skin, gathering the milk that had leaked out. Then, he brought them to his mouth. The moment he tasted it, his eyes fluttered shut, and he moaned—a deep, guttural sound that sent a chill through me. It wasn't just satisfaction. It was like he had tasted something sacred. Something euphoric.

That was my chance.

With all my strength, I kicked him hard in the gut. For a moment, I thought I had a chance—a slim shot at freedom. I scrambled to get up, but my foot caught on the sharp shard of the broken vase, pain shooting through me like fire. I screamed before I could stop myself. The Creeper was on me in an instant, his claws wrapping around me with an iron grip. Then, with a powerful flap of his wings, we were airborne.

The world spun around me as the wind whipped past, cold and cutting. My heart pounded in my chest as he carried me deeper into the mansion, my body hanging limply in his arms, helpless. He crashed us into a room—a ballroom, it looked like—setting me down on the cold, hard floor. I shivered as the chill of the stone seeped into my skin, but he knelt beside me, his glowing eyes focused on my wound.

I watched in stunned silence as he carefully removed the shard from my foot. His touch was surprisingly delicate, his movements precise. He tore a strip of fabric from a nearby curtain and tied it tightly around my ankle, securing the makeshift bandage. His actions confused me—why help me when he had just been hunting me?

But before I could process it, I saw the change in his eyes. That hunger. His gaze shifted from my wound to my chest, where the dark circles from my leaking breasts stained my shirt. His breathing quickened. I could feel it—the heat between us, the predatory intensity in his eyes. My stomach clenched with fear, but my body refused to move.

He moved closer, his breath brushing against my skin. His hands were on me before I could react, gripping my shirt and tearing it open. Cold air hit my skin as he exposed my chest, his eyes locking onto the wet stains. My heart raced, terror flooding me, but my body responded differently. A soft gasp escaped my lips as he leaned down, his tongue flicking out to taste me.

Before I could scream, his mouth latched onto my breast, his teeth lightly grazing my nipple before he began to suck, pulling at me with greedy, deliberate force. My body jolted at the contact, a shock of fear and sensation rushing through me. His grip was firm, holding me in place as he drank from me, his mouth hungry and eager, swallowing the milk as it flowed.

I wanted to push him away, to fight, but my body betrayed me. My breaths came in short, shaky bursts as his other hand tore at my dress, ripping the fabric until it hung loosely on my shoulders. His claws retracted just before he shredded my panties, and I whimpered as cool air brushed against my exposed skin. His fingers, now smooth and sure, moved with terrifying precision as they slid between my legs.

I squeezed my thighs together, trying to stop him, but he forced them apart easily. His fingers slipped between my folds, brushing against my clit with surprising care. I whimpered, my mind screaming to stop, but my body... my body reacted. A wave of unwanted pleasure hit me, and I hated myself for it—hated how his touch made heat pulse through me. He switched to my other breast, sucking harder, each pull of his mouth sending jolts straight to my core. I gasped, my hips lifting without my control, betraying my thoughts.

His mouth stayed on my breast, sucking with deep hunger, his tongue flicking over my sensitive nipple while his fingers rubbed my clit with calculated intent. My skin burned under his touch, every nerve on edge, torn between fear and desire. His fingers moved lower, sliding inside me with ease, his thumb still pressing on my clit. I shuddered, my breath catching in my throat as his fingers curled inside me, finding the spot that sent sparks through my body.

I didn't want to enjoy it, didn't want to give in—but I couldn't stop it. His mouth kept pulling at my breast, his sucking growing more intense as his fingers worked inside me, stroking my walls while rubbing my clit. Pleasure surged through me, overwhelming everything else. I moaned, my muscles tightening as heat built between my legs. His fingers pumped deeper, faster, and I cried out as my body convulsed, an orgasm crashing through me, leaving me trembling and helpless beneath him.

I sobbed, hating how my body had surrendered to him, how I had given in to something so twisted and wrong. But he wasn't done. His mouth released my nipple with a slick pop, his face wet with my milk, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. His fingers stayed inside me, moving slowly, deliberately, enjoying every tremor that ran through my body.

Then, to my shock, he curled beside me. His wings folded behind him, and after a moment of eerie calm, his claws slowly extended again, as if he had finished what he came for and no longer needed to hold back. There was a dark satisfaction in his eyes, as though the chaos he had created had given him exactly what he wanted.

I laid still. Still not understanding what just happened and then my fingers brushed against something cold and solid—an old candelabra. My pulse raced as I gripped it, heart hammering so hard I thought it might break through my ribs. His eyes were closed; this was my chance. My only chance.

Without thinking, I swung it with everything I had.

The metal smashed into the side of his head with a wet, sick thud. He let out a guttural sound, like a deep, rattling moan—more startled than hurt. Blood splattered across the floor as he jerked away, his eyes snapping open, wide with shock.

I scrambled back, my chest heaving, knowing this wouldn't be enough. But I swung again, not waiting, panic flooding my veins. The candelabra connected with his skull a second time, and I could hear the crunch of bone. His head twisted to the side, blood dripping down his face.

He let out a low,dangerous snar, but he didn't attack. His eyes were wild, dark, his body trembling with barely contained fury. He lifted a hand to his head, blood pouring between his fingers as he yanked the candelabra free. Flesh tore as he pulled it out, revealing raw, pulsing muscle and bone beneath.

But then, right in front of me, his skull began to knit itself back together. Skin stretched over the bone, fresh and whole, like it hadn't been shattered moments before.

That was when I lost it. I got up on my feet and ran, but he flew and caught me, straddling me. I thrashed beneath him, my hands pushing and clawing, trying to pry him off. But he was too strong. His weight pressed down on me, his claws digging into my skin. I kicked, punched—anything to get him off. Nothing worked.

Then, he let out a screech.

The sound was like nails scraping against glass, a sharp, piercing cry that rattled through my bones. His face—twisted and monstrous—shifted right in front of me, the skin peeling back to reveal something far worse than I could've imagined. The corners of his mouth split open, stretching unnaturally wide as rows of razor-sharp teeth were exposed, glistening with saliva.

But it was his mandibles that froze me in place. They flared out from the sides of his face, jagged and insect-like, snapping open and shut with a sickening sound. Thin strands of mucus hung between them, gleaming in the dim light. His whole face seemed to shift, his skin pulling back and splitting along the edges as if it could barely contain the raw, seething rage underneath.

His deep, glowing eyes locked onto mine, gleaming with hunger and reflecting nothing but darkness, as if he could see every fear and weakness inside me.His breath came in ragged, foul-smelling bursts, hot against my skin, mixing with the sound of his mandibles clicking together. His face looked less human with every second, like something out of a twisted nightmare—something that should have never crawled into this world.

I tried to scream, but no sound came out. My voice was trapped in my throat, my body locked in place by sheer terror. My pulse hammered in my ears, drowning out everything else. The world around us blurred into nothing but him and the grotesque horror of his face.

I knew I was going to die.

And then... a noise.

It was distant, soft—like a door creaking open. The sound cut through the air, breaking the moment between us. The Creeper's head snapped up, his eyes narrowing. He hissed, and with one final snarl, he launched himself off me. His wings sliced through with a powerful gust, knocking me back and sending me sprawling across the floor.

I lay there, gasping for breath, my body shaking uncontrollably as I watched the Creeper vanish into the dark hallway. His anger was like a living thing, radiating through the walls. I could hear the distant screams growing louder with every second, but I couldn't move. My limbs felt frozen, paralyzed by fear. I tore down a curtain and wrapped it around myself, trying to cover my exposed body, trying to feel safe, but it didn't work.

The sounds from the hallway—the horrifying mix of screams and something wet and tearing—made me nauseous. I didn't want to know what was happening down there, didn't want to see. But I couldn't stop myself. My body, against every instinct, pushed me toward the door.

I peeked into the hallway.

Brian was there. The Creeper had him—his claws wrapped tight around Brian's neck, lifting him off the ground like he weighed nothing at all. Brian was kicking, flailing, his face flushed red from the effort to breathe. But what hit me hardest was the sheer panic in his eyes. That cocky, smug attitude he always had was gone. Now, he was just terrified. And, God, I felt a strange satisfaction rise in me, a dark twist of emotion as I watched the arrogance stripped away, leaving only his fear.

Then there was Alex. Poor Alex, frozen a few feet away, trembling. He was watching it all unfold, his body too rigid to move. I could see it in his face—the battle in his mind between wanting to save Brian and himself.

"Help me!" Brian choked out, his voice cracking with panic. He flailed his arm toward Alex, eyes wide and pleading. But when Alex didn't move fast enough, Brian did the unthinkable. He pushed Alex forward, right into the Creeper's path, offering him up like a sacrifice.

"Take him! Not me!" Brian screamed, his voice shrill, desperation dripping from every word.

The Creeper paused, his glowing eyes locking onto Alex. For a moment, it was as if everything went still. Then, in one horrifying motion, the Creeper's claws slashed through the air, cutting deep into Alex's chest.

Alex fought back, his hands flailing as he struck atthe Creeper with wild desperation, but it wasn't enough. I couldn't let it happen. I lunged forward, my body acting before my mind could catch up. I threw myself between them, my heart pounding so loud I could barely hear the sound of my own scream.

The Creeper stopped, his claws hovering just inches from my face. His eyes flickered with something... maybe curiosity. He tilted his head, watching me like I was an insect pinned beneath his gaze. I held my breath, every nerve in my body screaming to run, but I couldn't move. Alex was hurt, bleeding out beside me. He stumbled, clutching himself as blood poured from the deep gashes the Creeper had inflicted. His breath came in ragged gasps, his eyes wide with shock. Before he could even take another step, the Creeper's claws lashed out again, this time striking him with brutal force.

Alex let out a choked cry as the creature's talons tore through his torso, ripping flesh and bone like paper. His body convulsed, a sickening gurgle escaping his throat. Blood sprayed across the floor, pooling beneath him as his legs gave way. He collapsed to the ground, his body twitching for just a moment before going completely still, lifeless.

The Creeper stood over him, panting, his glowing eyes shifting, watching the last bit of life drain from Alex's body.

I wanted to scream, but the sound died in my throat, trapped there by the horror of what was unfolding before me.

Brian, seeing his chance, tried to back away. His body shook violently, his breath coming in ragged, desperate gasps. But the Creeper wasn't done. Not yet. He turned back to Brian, his claws flexing, his movements slow and deliberate as if savoring the moment.

The satisfaction I had felt earlier dissolved into something colder, darker. The Creeper took pleasure in torturing him, dragging it out like a game. For a moment, I just stared, frozen, the twisted scene unfolding like a nightmare. But then it became too much. I turned and ran. The way the Creeper's eyes followed me, as though he could sense my fear, terrified me to the core.

Brian let out a sob. "Please... no. Please!" His voice was thin, broken.

But the Creeper didn't listen. He grabbed Brian by the throat again, lifting him effortlessly, like he weighed no more than a ragdoll. I watched, helpless, as the creature toyed with him, dragging his claws across Brian's chest, slicing through flesh with sickening ease.

Blood sprayed the walls, turning the narrow hallway into a slaughterhouse.

Brian's screams were like nothing I had ever heard before—raw, piercing, filled with the kind of agony that tears the soul apart. The Creeper moved with a slow, methodical precision, tearing into Brian bit by bit. He enjoyed it, taking his time. The sound—the wet, horrifying sound of flesh being torn from bone—echoed around me. Brian's cries for mercy turned into wet, gurgling sounds as his body went limp.

The Creeper didn't stop until there was nothing left to scream for.

I felt bile rise in my throat, my stomach twisting violently. I had to get out of there—now. I stumbled backward, my legs shaking so badly I thought they might give out. Every inch of me was soaked in terror.

I couldn't think about what I had just seen; I couldn't let it sink in.

As I climbed the stairs, step by trembling step, the house seemed to close in on me, the shadows stretching and twisting, creeping closer, like they could sense the terror clinging to me. Brian's screams still echoed in my ears, each one tearing at my sanity. The brutal image of Alex, lifeless and broken, burned into my mind, leaving me aching inside. But I didn't look back.

I couldn't.

Because I knew—deep inside me—that the Creeper wasn't finished yet.

He was coming for me next.

I stumbled into the nearest bedroom, hands shaking as I crawled under the bed. Darkness closed in, thick and suffocating, with the smell of mildew filling my lungs. I curled up, breaths shallow, heart pounding so loud I thought it would give me away.