Chapter 1
MAGNETIC
I used to be Zara Vyxen, the pop star who sold out stadiums, had platinum records, and lived in a mansion in the Hollywood Hills. That life ended the night the Trendify Killer broke into my house.
He didn’t just attack me. He stabbed me seven times, left me bleeding out on my kitchen floor, and would’ve finished the job if I hadn’t crawled to my phone and called 911. I survived. He didn’t. Or at least, that’s what everyone thought.
Six months later, the man who attacked me, a guy named Kyle Cutter, was convicted and sent to prison. Then he escaped.
The FBI moved me immediately. New name. New city. New life.
Now I’m Elissa Ashthorne, hiding in a quiet two-story house on a dead-end street in Colorado. No security team. No entourage. Just me, my trauma, and the constant fear that the man who tried to kill me is still out there looking for me.
I haven’t written a song in months. I barely leave the house. Most days I just exist scrolling, sleeping, trying not to think about how close I came to dying.
Tonight was different.
I stood in my closet, staring at the thick strap of my pale pink purse. My hands shook as I looped it around my neck and hooked the metal clip onto the coat hook above me. I let my knees buckle.
The leather tightened fast.
My vision blurred. My lungs burned. For one terrifying second, I thought this is it.
Then the strap snapped.
I hit the floor hard, the side of my face scraping against the wall. A sharp sting bloomed across my cheek as warm blood trickled down my skin.
“Shit…” I whispered, coughing violently as air rushed back into my lungs.
I wasn’t really trying to kill myself. Not tonight. But the darkness inside me has been getting louder lately. The nightmares. The flashbacks. The feeling that I would never be safe again.
I grabbed my phone with trembling fingers and dragged myself to the couch. An article was already trending.
“Zara Vyxen still missing after Trendify Killer’s prison escape.”
I laughed bitterly. Missing. That was one way to put it.
I opened the Trendify app, the same chaotic, addictive platform where the killer had originally found his victims. I should’ve deleted it. Instead, I doom-scrolled like everyone else, watching short videos of makeup tutorials, street performances, and thirst traps.
That’s when I saw him.
A live stream.
The man behind the camera wore a custom LED mask with glowing orange lights, sharp triangles for eyes, and a long vertical line down the center. He sat behind a professional drum kit, shirtless, muscles flexing with every powerful hit. His body was built like a fighter, not a musician. Veins ran down his thick forearms. A black mask covered his entire face, but somehow it made him even hotter.
The username read: Half_Dead_Relentless.
I clicked in without thinking.
Hundreds of girls were already in the chat, begging him to play their favorite songs. I typed before I could stop myself.
Can you play Magnetic?
He glanced at the screen, smirked under the mask, and actually selected the song.
When the beat dropped, and he started drumming, I felt it in my core. The way his arms moved, the raw power in every strike, the way his abs tightened with each hit… I squeezed my thighs together.
Fuck.
When the song ended, his deep, modulated voice filled my phone.
“Lissa.ash,” he said, reading my username. “I’m sending you a DM, Princess.”
My phone vibrated.
Half_Dead_Relentless: Your username made me laugh. You see something you like?
I bit my lip, heat already pooling between my legs.
Me: Maybe. Those arms should be illegal.
Half_Dead_Relentless: You should see what else I can do with them… and my tongue.
The conversation turned nasty fast.
He asked what I was wearing. I told him the truth, just an oversized black T-shirt and nothing underneath. He sent a voice note, low and filthy.
“Slide your fingers between those pretty thighs for me, Princess. I want to hear how wet you are.”
I did exactly what he said.
Then he sent a picture.
His cock.
Long, thick, and veiny, the head flushed and glistening. He was stroking it slowly, the orange lights of his mask glowing in the background.
I moaned out loud.
Me: Jesus Christ…
Half_Dead_Relentless: Send me something back. Show me those tits.
I didn’t even hesitate.
I pulled my shirt up, took a mirror selfie, hard pink nipples, flushed skin, biting my bottom lip, and sent it.
Three seconds later, another picture came through. His hand wrapped tight around his thick cock, pre-cum dripping from the tip.
Half_Dead_Relentless: Look what you did to me. I’m going to ruin this tight little pussy when I find you. Stretch you open until you’re screaming.
My fingers moved faster.
Me: You don’t even know where I am.
Half_Dead_Relentless: I will soon, Princess. And when I do, I’m going to fuck you so deep you’ll feel me for days.
I came hard, thighs shaking, biting my fist to stay quiet. My body was still twitching when I typed my final message.
Me: Game on, asshole.
Then I blocked him.
I dropped the phone and stared at the ceiling, breathing hard. My pussy was still pulsing.
I should’ve been terrified. A masked stranger with a filthy mouth had just made me cum harder than I had in months.
Instead, I smiled.
Because for the first time since the attack, I felt something other than fear.
I felt alive.
And I already knew I was going to unblock him tomorrow.
