Marcus hadn't always been a drunkard or a predator. Once, he was the golden boy of his small hometown—a star athlete with charm to spare and a body sculpted like a Greek statue. Women loved him; men wanted to be him. But beneath his dazzling smile, there had always been a hunger, a gnawing void he couldn't fill.
He came from a broken home. His mother, an addict, had spent more time chasing her next high than raising her son. His father, a cruel man with heavy hands, believed discipline was the only language Marcus needed. So Marcus grew up learning two things: power was everything, and people were tools to be used or discarded.
By his early twenties, Marcus had gained a reputation. Handsome and confident, he could have any woman he wanted—and he did. But his insatiable appetite for sex wasn't about pleasure; it was about control. Each conquest fed his ego, but it was never enough.
When he met Joi, she was just 18—young, innocent, and untouched by the darkness of the world. Marcus had been tasked with helping her settle into a new environment, doing small favors for her family. At first, it was a game. She was sweet, with big, trusting eyes that always looked up at him with gratitude. It made him feel like a hero.
But the more time he spent with her, the more she got under his skin. Joi was different. She wasn't like the women who threw themselves at him, desperate for his attention. She was kind, always trying to see the good in him, even when he didn't believe there was any good left.
And that kindness drove him insane.
What began as attraction spiraled into an all-consuming obsession. He convinced himself that Joi owed him her body, her love—her everything—because of the "sacrifices" he made to help her.
When Joi resisted his advances, his frustration turned to anger. He began isolating her from her friends and family, ensuring she had no one else to turn to but him. He manipulated her with guilt, reminding her of everything he'd done for her.
But it wasn't enough.
His possessiveness grew violent. If she smiled at another man, he'd rage for hours. If she refused him, he'd lash out, leaving bruises on her arms or marks on her wrists. Joi's life became a living nightmare, trapped in a cycle of fear and manipulation.
---
Marcus was at a seedy bar, nursing yet another drink. The dimly lit room buzzes with hushed conversations and the clinking of glasses, but Marcus remains lost in his own world, memories of Joi haunting him and how he lost so much money over the years.
As the bartender refills his glass, Marcus's attention sharpens when he overhears a conversation at the table behind him.
"Did you hear about that girl, Joi?" a man says, his voice casual but loud enough to carry over the bar noise.
"Yeah, the one who ran off years ago? She's back in Spain. Rumor has it she's staying with some family at a villa outside the city," his companion replies.
Marcus freezes, his jaw tightening as he processes their words. The memories of her—the girl he had claimed as his—surge back, accompanied by a wave of anger and desire.
"And get this," the first man adds with a chuckle. "She's got a fiancé now. Some rich guy. Bet he doesn't know what he's in for."
Marcus's hand tightens around his glass until it cracks, startling the bartender. He tosses a bill on the counter and heads for the exit, his predatory instincts fully awakened.
Outside, he corners the man who had been speaking, catching him off guard.
"You were talking about Joi," Marcus says, his tone deadly calm as he blocks the man's path.
The man stares at him, wide-eyed. "Yeah…what's it to you?"
Marcus grabs the man by the collar, pulling him close. "You're going to tell me everything you know. Where she's staying, who she's with, and this fiancé of hers."
The man sputters, fear loosening his tongue. "I don't know much! Just that she's at some villa on the outskirts of the city. And yeah, she's got a fiancé—some rich guy. That's all I know, I swear!"
Marcus shoves him back, his expression dark and dangerous. "You've been very helpful."
As the man stumbles away, Marcus pulls out his phone and dials a private investigator he's used before.
"Find her," Marcus orders, his voice cold and commanding. "She's in Spain, at a villa outside the city. I want to know everything—where she sleeps, who she's with, and especially about this fiancé."
He hangs up, his lips curling into a sinister grin. "So, you think you can move on, Joi? We'll see about that."
---
The bar door slammed shut behind Marcus as he stalked into the cool night, his breath visible in the crisp air. The adrenaline coursing through his veins had sobered him slightly, sharpening his focus. Joi was back. And the thought of her—so close, yet so far—ignited a dangerous hunger in him.
It wasn't just about reclaiming what he thought of as his. The mention of a fiancé had lit a fire he couldn't ignore. Joi, belonging to another man? The idea was unbearable.
The private investigator had been reliable in the past, finding people who didn't want to be found, uncovering secrets no one wanted known. Marcus knew he wouldn't fail this time, either.
But patience wasn't Marcus's strong suit. As he paced his small, sparsely furnished apartment, the walls seemed to close in on him. He poured himself another drink but barely touched it, his mind churning with memories.
---
Flashback: Marcus and Joi's Beginnings
Joi had been just eighteen when they first met—a bright-eyed, innocent girl whose beauty had been both ethereal and magnetic. Marcus had seen her in the marketplace, struggling with an overloaded basket of fruit.
"Let me help you," he'd said, flashing her a smile that he knew women couldn't resist.
At first, she'd hesitated, her wide, doe-like eyes meeting his with a mix of gratitude and caution. But eventually, she'd relented, and that was the beginning.
Marcus had played the part of the charming rescuer to perfection, helping her with small tasks, offering her advice, and slipping compliments that made her cheeks flush. Slowly, he'd gained her trust, weaving himself into her life with calculated ease.
But beneath the surface, his intentions had been anything but pure. Marcus was a man ruled by his desires, and Joi had become his obsession.
When he finally made his move, it had been subtle—a lingering touch, a whispered promise. Joi had been too innocent to recognize the danger, too naïve to see the darkness in his eyes. By the time she understood what he truly wanted, it was too late.
Present Day
Marcus slammed his glass down on the counter, shattering it. The sound brought him back to the present, and he cursed under his breath. She'd slipped through his fingers once, but not again.
He stared at the shards of glass, his mind already plotting. Joi might have a fiancé now, but Marcus knew how to get under her skin, how to remind her of the bond they once shared.
The investigator's call came the next morning.
"She's at a villa on the outskirts of the city," the man said. "With family. A stepmother, stepsister, and her father, along with a couple of other people. Security is tight."
Marcus's lips twisted into a smirk. "That's not a problem for me. Keep watching her. Let me know every move she makes."
As he ended the call, Marcus's smirk faded into a cold, determined expression. He didn't just want Joi back; he wanted to destroy the life she'd built without him. If that meant breaking her piece by piece, so be it.