He grinned as he washed the blood from his hands and bathed in the delicious euphoria of the kill.
To him it was like a fine wine. It only got better with age.
No one ever suspected the mild-mannered baker. He lured them in with sweets, and their gluttonous faces became his trophies.
It was a labor of love and he lived for it. One more and he would have his coveted Baker’s Dozen.
One more and he would be legendary.
Like his father before him, blood and the best bread in town was the family business.