Disclaimer: I don't own the Grisha Trilogy and its characters – it belongs to Leigh Bardugo. I do not own the Shadow & Bone TV series, which was developed by Eric Heisserer for Netflix and based on Leigh Bardugo's books. Any recognisable dialogue is from the books or TV show – some lines may be included verbatim, others in an amended form.

Serial Killer

Shouldn't have stayed for that last beer, Mal thought.

He'd been flirting with the bartender, missing the chance to ride home with his friends. Unfortunately, the bartender turned out to have burly boyfriend who wasn't too happy with Mal, and he'd had to get out of there sharpish to avoid a fight.

No chance of a lift. No buses running. And his phone had died, which meant no way to call an uber.

Still, things weren't too bad. It wasn't a long walk back to his flat, although the chill in the air was making him wish he'd brought a proper jacket with him.

He looked up when he heard the hurried click of heels on the pavement.

Suddenly, there were thin arms hugging him, the familiar scent of irises in the air.

Only one person he knew wore that perfume.

"Alina?" he asked.

"Hi, Mal," she stepped back, tucking her dark hair behind her ear and gazing at him with the same sort of adoring smile that she'd always worn around him when they were in school.

They'd broken up right before university. His choice, not hers. He wanted the chance to fly solo during his degree, play the field a little bit.

Now though, she looked good.

Alina had certainly lost her waifish, sallow looks. Her skin glowed, her dark hair shiny and glossy.

Maybe the night wasn't entirely a loss.

"Sorry for jumping at you like that," she twisted her hands nervously, glancing behind her, "I just … I think there's some guy following me."

Mal followed her gaze and, sure enough, there was a tall, dark-haired man leaning against the wall just down the road.

"I saw him at the restaurant I was at with my friends," Alina explained, "but I didn't realise he was behind me until a minute ago. It was stupid to walk home at this time, I know, but I only live a few minutes away."

He gave the stranger another look. He couldn't see him too well in the dark, but he thought he could probably take the guy. He didn't like to brag, but he did pretty well for himself at the amateur boxing club he'd joined a few years ago.

Still, there was an easier route to take, one that might end much more pleasantly for him.

"Why don't I walk with you," he suggested to Alina with a smile, "make sure you get home safe."
"Would you, Mal? That's so sweet of you."

She was looking up at him through her lashes. Saints, how did he not realise how hot she'd grow up to be. They'd nicknamed her 'Sticks' in school, and while she was certainly still slender, he wouldn't mind at all exploring what she looked like under her skinny jeans and fitted woolen jumper.

True to Alina's word, it was only two minutes before they reached a beautiful three-storey detached house on a street he was fairly sure he'd never be able to afford to live on.

"This is your house!"

He vaguely remembered she had studied art at university. He followed her on Instagram but didn't pay much attention to her account, since she tended to just post pictures of her paintings. She must have been doing very well indeed, though.

She shrugged self-consciously, "I never understand why people like my paintings so much. When I was a kid, I would never have dreamed of spending so much on a house, but I just fell in love with it."

She stepped closer then, holding out her hand, "do you want to come in for a bit, have a drink. I'd like to thank you for your help."

He nodded, trying to play it cool. The night was definitely taking a turn for the better.

She unlocked the door and pointed him towards the kitchen, telling him there was beer in the fridge.

He didn't use his own kitchen much, but he admired hers, all fancy appliances and marble countertops, as he pulled a beer out and took a long drink.

When he heard movement behind him, he turned around with a practiced, seductive smile on his face.

Only to come face to face with the tall, dark-haired man Alina had pointed out to him earlier.

"Hello, Mr Oretsev. I'd like to say it's a pleasure to meet you, but I'd be lying."

"What the hell!" Mal shouted, just as Alina walked in.

She smirked at him, "I see you've met Aleksander, my husband."

"Your … husband … I thought …"

Alina scoffed, "what, you thought I'd bring you inside my house and fuck you to say thank you for walking me home. As if I'd owe you anything for doing what any decent person should."

"Then what I am doing here?"

"Well, you see, I was telling Aleksander all about my school days, about the boy who used me and laughed behind my back, who never thought I was good enough. And, well, my husband doesn't really like it when people make me cry, even if it was a few years before I met him."

She sighed, "he gets these urges too. Likes a little blood on his hands every now and then."

At Mal's shocked gape, she simply laughed, "no one who doesn't deserve it, of course. And you're special, Mal, because you're my anniversary present."

"You're insane!" he shouted, surging forward in an attempt to escape this crazy nightmare.

Except … his head felt fuzzy, his limbs heavy.

"That will be the sedative in the beer," Alina told him conversationally, "very predictable with your drink choices, Mal."

"We're going to have so much fun together," Aleksander said with a cruel shark's smile, his dark eyes like bottomless pits.

The last thing Mal saw, before he slumped unconscious to the floor, was his ex-girlfriend wrapping herself around her maniac of a husband, pressing their lips together in a frenzied, passionate kiss.

"Oh, Sasha," Alina murmured, "you really do get me the best presents."

Thanks for reading. Hope you enjoyed it.