𝐀 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐨 [𝐑𝐨𝐲𝐚𝐥 𝐨𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧]

1 - THE CALL

AUTHOR POV:

Somewhere

Night time

The four cars, like dark stallions, come to a halt in front of the ancient mansion, their engines sputtering into silence.

The guards, like loyal sentinels, pour out of the vehicles, their eyes scanning the surroundings with a mix of vigilance and unease.

They take up positions around the perimeter, their bodies taut with anticipation.

One guard, like a loyal servant, approaches the Mercedes,

his hand reaching out to open the back door with a reverence that speaks of the occupant's importance. And then, she emerges.

The girl in black.

Her aura is a dark cloud that precedes her, a palpable force that seems to draw the very light out of the air.

Her suit is a black armor that seems to shimmer in the moonlight, her brown eyes gleaming like polished onyx.

Her beauty is a weapon, honed to perfection, and her presence is a declaration of dominance.

She walks into the mansion, her heels clicking against the old wood like a death knell, the sound echoing through the stillness like a challenge. The guards follow closely behind, their eyes fixed on her with a mix of awe and trepidation.

She moves with the grace of a panther, her movements economical and precise, as if she knows that every step she takes is a declaration of her power.

She enters the room, her gaze fixed on the man bound to the chair, his eyes sunken, his skin pale. He begs for death, his voice barely audible, but she shows no emotion.

She sits on the couch, crossing her legs with a regal grace, her eyes fixed on the man with an unnerving intensity. Her face is a mask of stone, her eyes burning with an inner fire that seems to pierce the very soul.

She is the Devil Queen, a monarch of the night, and this is her domain. And no one dares to defy her.

As the man in his late twenties approaches the Devil Queen, his calm tone belies the tension in the air.

"Boss, he's not saying anything," he reports, his eyes fixed on the man bound to the chair.

The Devil Queen's gaze remains fixed on the prisoner, her eyes burning with an intensity that seems to pierce the very soul.

With a slight nod, she issues a command, her voice cold and detached. "Pour cold water."

The guards spring into action, pouring the icy liquid over the man's head, his body jerking in response as his skin burns from the sudden change in temperature.

The man's laughter is maniacal, his eyes gleaming with a mix of fear and defiance as he taunts the Devil Queen.

"So the great Devil Queen has come for me," he jeers, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

But the Devil Queen remains unfazed, her expression unreadable, her voice cold and dominating.

"So, I don't think you should have any hope that your boss will save you," she says, her words dripping with disdain.

The man's laughter ceases, his eyes widening in fear as his body aches from the cold water. He tries to taunt her again, but his words are laced with a mix of fear and desperation.

The Devil Queen's patience wears thin, her voice commanding.

"Enough with your nonsense talk. Now, tell me where he is." The air is thick with tension, the man's fate hanging precariously in the balance as the Devil Queen's gaze bore into his very soul.