[𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒] [𝐒𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐍]
Gabriel Sinclair was no saint, and he made no pretenses about it.
Ruthless, cunning, and unhinged -those words only begin to scratch the surface of his true nature.
Like a merciless hurricane, h...
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"True evil is, above all things, seductive."
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This night was spiraling into an endless nightmare, and Gabriel standing in front of me cemented that dreadful reality.
"Take it down a notch with the grim face." he taunted, boldly stepping closer, his breath teasing my face. "Otherwise, I'll start taking offense."
The unexpected proximity snapped me out of my stupor, turning the initial apprehension into sheer annoyance.
"Get out of my space before I give you a genuine reason to be offended." I warned, my words laced with venom.
"Oh." His lips curved imperceptibly. "Is that meant to be a threat?"
I shot him a dismissive frown when he remained stubbornly immobile.
"Are you selectively deaf?" I queried, my lip curling into a sneer. "Back off. I've got things to do."
I maintained a rigid stance, determined to remain neutral and suppress any outward signs of restlessness. I'd sooner be buried alive than give him the satisfaction of knowing he had even a shred of control, no matter how minimal.
"By 'things,' you mean getting chewed out by your brother?" A flicker of amusement danced in his eyes as he cocked his head to the side. "Observing from a distance was entertaining enough, so having a front-row seat sounds like a real treat."
Of course he would say that. Only someone as twisted as Gabriel would relish the sight of two people tearing each other apart. The thought of him lurking in the shadows like some creep made my nails dig deeper into my palm, but the rage burning in my chest drowned out any pain.
I straightened up, yet even at six feet tall, he still loomed over me by a head. With his ridiculously toned physique, boasting more muscles than anyone would ever need, any physical confrontation seemed not only unwise but also potentially suicidal.
Damn it. I needed to approach this shitty situation with caution.
"Was it you who sent the invitation?" I asked, my voice strained with an effort to maintain composure.
Gabriel remained silent, his gaze fixed on me with a disturbing calmness. What a joke. There was nothing placid about him. This guy could only be described as borderline insane.
"Perhaps." he finally conceded.
What kind of answer was that? Talking to a wall would be more insightful.
No, there was something deeply wrong with the whole situation. The fact that Gabriel was approaching me felt out of place. Our interactions outside of competitions were rare, and even then, I consistently keep my distance.
