The masked man went silent.
He tilted his head slowly, studying me like I was some strange creature that didn't belong here. Then he took a few more steps until he was close enough that I could finally see a bit of skin through the net covering his eyes.
Strangely, it was white—too white. Unnaturally pale. Almost inhuman.
"You're too observant," he murmured. "A little too good for your own sake."
It sounded like a compliment, but the warning underneath it was sharp enough to cut skin. If I was reading his body language correctly, he wanted me to choose every word very, very carefully.
I didn't say anything. I only tried to keep my breathing steady, trying to catch a glimpse of his eyes behind the net. He spoke again before I could.
"As for your question… you could say I know him. But…"
He paused, the air stretching thin between us.
"He doesn't know me."
Before I could search his expression again, he stepped back, pulling his presence out of my space.
"Are you his stalker?" I asked. "I didn't know Raven had a gay fanbase too."
Bad habit. Pressure turns me sarcastic. My mouth gets sharper the more scared I am.
He chuckled again—but not with amusement. It was a laugh that sounded irritated, almost offended.
"Oh, Lara," he said softly. "I don't like it when people ignore my words."
His gloved hand lifted, and he traced a line across my throat—horizontal, deliberate, feather-light.
My heart froze, but I couldn't let him see fear. Not him. Not now.
So I stepped back, turned around, folded my arms across my chest, and forced my voice steady.
"Why am I here?"
"I'll be asking the questions now," he replied.
He stepped close behind me. Not touching—just close enough for his body heat to seep through my clothes and crawl up my spine.
"Do you recognize this?" he whispered.