Moon_knight12

She solves murders.
She used to commit them.

Detective Aesira walks the rain-slicked streets of Old Town with a mind like a scalpel and secrets buried in shadows. Known for cracking the most confounding cases, she’s cold, brilliant—and haunted. Years ago, she silenced the killer within herself. Or so she thought.

When a series of murders begin to mimic her long-forgotten crimes—complete with chilling floral arrangements at every scene—Aesira is forced to confront a terrifying truth: someone knows who she used to be. Someone is recreating her work. And they want her attention.

As she chases a phantom through the twisted alleys of her past, Aesira meets Lucian, a man who sees through her mask and into her darkest desires. He knows everything. He may even love her. But his obsession could destroy them both.

Flowers of Death is a slow-burning psychological thriller where beauty and brutality entwine. With each case, the line between justice and madness blurs—until Aesira must choose who she really is: the hunter, the artist… or the killer.

Flower Of Death

"Every story bleeds somewhere.This is where mine does."

The air at the villa was heavy. Salt, rot, and flowers.

The door creaked open before I even touched it.

The hallway was lined with candles.

Petals scattered across the floor—lilies, marigolds, orchids, roses.

Like a woman walking into her own grave.

At the center of it all was the greenhouse.

He was standing in front of the table.

The same one he'd used to arrange his "art."

But this time, there were two spaces prepared.

"You came," he said, his voice soft, reverent.

I raised my gun. "I should kill you."

"You should. That would be... poetic."

He gestured to the table. "Shall we begin?"

I stepped closer, gun still steady.

Just looked at me like I was the sun.

"You know, I never wanted to hurt you," he said.

"I just wanted you to remember. To come back. To see what you really are."

"No," he said. "You're better."

He knelt then. Right there in the dirt and flower petals.

Spread his arms like he was offering himself.

"Do it," he whispered. "Make it yours. End it like only you can."

I could feel my finger tighten around the trigger.

Because the truth is, I didn't know anymore if I wanted him dead.

"You love me," he said. "You hate me. But it's the same thing, isn't it?"

"You can't escape me, Aesira. Because I am you."

My voice cracked. "No. You're what I could've been."

He smiled. "Not could've. Should've."

The moment snapped like a wire pulled too tight.

I don't remember how long we fought.

Just the flowers crushed beneath our feet.

Just the mirror behind him shattering as we slammed into it, glass raining down like stars.

I left him there, bleeding among the flowers.

But because death would've been too easy.

Chapter 16: The Final Kill