THE SERIAL KILLER MIND - Chapter 13: The Sketchbook

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It was after midnight when Ella snuck into Vinci’s studio.

Not because she didn’t trust him.

But because something kept pulling at her gut—and she couldn’t silence it anymore.

The sketchbook lay on his desk, half-open. Charcoal dust still fresh. The top page bore the image of a man’s back—split open from nape to spine. Organs exposed. Blood trailing like vines.

She flipped the page.

Another man. Eyes gouged. Mouth sewn shut.

Another. Hanging by the wrists, skin flayed.

She reached for the case files.

Victim #1. Victim #2. Victim #3.

Same poses. Same wounds. Same precision.

Her heart pounded.

This wasn’t coincidence.

This was documentation.

“No,” she whispered. “No, this isn’t real. He’s just drawing what he feels. Not what he’s done.”

But even she didn’t believe her own words.

She flipped further—until she found a page that hadn’t happened yet.

A woman.

Strangled with barbed wire.

Face scribbled out.

The outline of her hair looked hauntingly like—

“No,” she repeated, stumbling backward.

Footsteps creaked behind her.

“Ella?”

She turned.

Vinci stood in the doorway, shirtless, tired—but eerily calm.

“What are you doing?”

“I was just—” she looked down at the sketchbook. “You… You drew them.”

“I don’t remember drawing all of them.”

Her hands clenched. “Why is there one that looks like me?”

He blinked. Slowly. “Because Eon’s afraid you’ll leave.”

“That’s not love.”

“It is to him.”

Ella backed toward the door.

But Vinci didn’t move.

And Eon?

Eon was already awake.

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