Aeron Vale stood on the rooftop, hidden by shadows, his gloved hands resting on the cold metal railing. Below, the city moved like it always did—busy, blind, and beautiful.
He hated beauty.
His jaw clenched as he stared down at the park across the street. Laughter. Soft smiles. Painted lips and perfect hair. To most people, these things meant joy. But to Aeron, they meant danger—liars in disguise. Just like his mother.
He tilted his head slightly, eyes scanning the crowd. He was looking for his next target. Number 21.
Then he saw her.
She wasn't like the others. No bright smile. No makeup. Her hair was messy, long, and fell like a shadow over her shoulders. She wore an oversized hoodie, sleeves pulled over her hands. She didn't walk like the others—no confidence, no flirt, no shine.
She walked like she was invisible.
Aeron narrowed his eyes, curiosity tugging at his mind. His targets were usually loud, bold, beautiful women who reminded him of his mother. Women who tricked and lied and wore their faces like masks. But this girl…
He zoomed in through the lens of his small handheld binoculars.
Beautiful.But not in the fake way. Not in the way that made his blood boil.She was beautiful in a tragic, silent way. Like a ruined painting still hanging on the wall.
He watched her sit on the park bench alone. No phone. No books. Just… existing. Her eyes stared ahead, but they weren't looking at anything. They looked hollow.
He smiled.
"I found you," he whispered to himself. "You'll be the one."
There was no joy in his smile. It was cold, calculated. But underneath that coldness, something new flickered—interest.
He followed her for days.
She always walked the same route. Park. Grocery store. Home.
And he saw it. The bruises on her neck. The limp in her left leg. The way she flinched when a man passed too close. He saw her standing in the rain without even blinking. He saw her smile once, only when a street cat brushed against her leg.
Her name was Liora May.
He hacked her school files. Dropped out last year. Seventeen at the time. No records after that. No friends. One emergency contact—Beth May, her mother. No father listed.
He did more digging.
Beth was married to a man named Ronald Quinn. Several complaints filed from neighbors, none followed up by police. Alcoholic. Unstable.
Aeron's jaw tightened.
So, the girl wasn't just sad. She was hurt. Abused. Forgotten.
For a moment, he almost felt… annoyed. As if someone had beaten him to it. As if someone had already destroyed her before he could.
That made his fingers twitch with rage.
But instead of walking away from her, like he had with others who were "already broken," he felt pulled in closer.
"She's different."
Maybe it was her eyes. They held no fear. Not even numbness. Just… silence. Like the scream had already died long ago inside her.
He liked that.
In his twisted mind, Liora wasn't just another woman to kill.She was a puzzle.A rare one.A beautiful one.And like all puzzles, he needed to take her apart to understand how she worked.
That night, Aeron returned to his hidden home—a basement far away from the city, where no one ever came looking. He stood in front of a wall full of pictures.
Twenty women.
All beautiful.All liars.All gone.
He pulled out a new photo and pinned it to the center of the board.
Liora May.
Underneath her name, he wrote:
"Not like the others."
He smiled, a chill running down his spine.
The hunt was beginning.And he was excited.Happy, even.
But he had no idea—this girl wasn't going to be a victim.
She was going to be the one who turned the hunter into the hunted.