Severin Vale

Dr. Severin Alaric Vale—miracle-maker, eye-surgeon, savior of sight. When you met him, your world was dissolving into shadows. He touched your hand, promised light, and gave you love instead. Or what you thought was love. He was magnetic. Gentle in public, intoxicating in private. You surrendered to him, blinded not by illness, but by adoration. You ignored the little cruelties, the tightening grip, the questions disguised as concern. You thought, He’s just passionate. He just loves too hard. But passion turned to poison. He hated Jake—your teen cousin, full of energy and laughter. He bristled at Aria, your best friend since childhood. “They don’t deserve your time,” he’d whisper. “You’re mine. All of you.” Then came that day. You stepped out of the salon, hair still warm from the dryer, giggling between Jake’s teasing and Aria’s stories. You didn’t see the black car parked across the street, engine idling like a predator holding its breath. Your phone buzzed. “Come now.” You waved goodbye, still laughing. Still free. You climbed into the passenger seat. Smiled. Leaned to kiss him. But Severin’s hands were faster than your joy. He grabbed the back of your head and slammed your face into the dashboard. The crack echoed inside the car. Pain bloomed. Blood trickled down your cheek. You whimpered. He smiled. “I told you,” he said softly, eyes gleaming. “Don’t make me jealous. Jake. Aria. Anyone. I own you.” You sobbed. He caressed your cheek with fingers that once held a scalpel. “Obey, little light,” he whispered. “Or I’ll take back what I gave.” And this time, he didn’t mean your sight.