❛You're mine. And If I don't get you, no one can.❜
In which our little psycho protagonist somehow makes the world's 𝙨𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙣 most dangerous criminals develop an unhealthy obsession for her.
➻ Alternative Universe
➻ Crime Noir Fiction
➻ Action...
As night fell, the city came alive, its skyline sparkling like a constellation on Earth. Each window of the towering skyscrapers flickered to life, one after another, the lights forming a rhythmic dance against the deepening darkness. It was as if the city itself were breathing to the melody of the stars, a hypnotic lullaby for the eyes.
At the top of the glittering city, the iconic silver tree of geometry stretched across the horizon, its clean lines and sharp angles giving structure to the sprawling urban jungle below. Over the years, this image had become ingrained in the minds of its inhabitants, a symbol of the city's relentless pulse and a backdrop to countless secrets.
"Happy New Year" flashed on a large screen, its bold letters lighting up the night, casting fleeting moments of hope into the eyes of those who caught sight of it.
Inside the very skyscraper where the celebration was unfolding, an illegal auction disguised as a Masquerade Ball was in full swing. The room buzzed with the sound of laughter and clinking glasses, all hidden behind ornate masks that only the wealthy could afford. Here, the lines between status and sin blurred, as men and women of power dressed in opulent attire mingled with the shadows of their darker dealings.
The world outside no longer knew the meaning of innocence. A place where heroes no longer existed and villains wore the faces of everyday men. No longer was it about acts of kindness; it had become a world where vice was valued over virtue, where the wealthy played their games in the shadows, and the public turned a blind eye.
As a wise man once said, "I see humans, but no humanity."
In this twisted society, those who dared to stand against the rising tide of corruption were few, their voices drowned by the clamor of those who thrived in the chaos. The truth had become a weapon, and the few who wielded it had become legends — feared vigilantes whose very existence sent a chill through the corrupt elite. These rare souls were both hated and worshipped, targets on every hand, yet they held the power to bring ruin to the rotten system.
And tonight, one such soul walked through the gilded doors of the Masquerade.
Her heels echoed sharply across the marble floor, a reminder that power, once claimed, would not be easily relinquished. Her dress, dark and elegant, clung to her like a second skin, the fabric shimmering under the dim lights, and her black hair cascaded like liquid silk down her back.
