「"𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐨𝐫, 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐛𝐨𝐲 𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐲𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫"」 ── ❝ 'You like being hunted, don't you, little thing?' he said. 'You like knowing you drag the fucking monster out of me just by breathing.' ❞ ── Cyril Roosevelt doesn't belong at L'Académie Sainte-Marie-a prestigious Parisian university for the rich and powerful. He's poor. Shy. Soft. The scholarship student that nobody takes seriously. But someone is watching him. He starts getting gifts. Blood red roses with no sender. Handwritten letters calling him his little mouse. Messages from an unknown number that seem to know exactly where he is. Exactly what he's wearing. Exactly how fast his heart is beating. And then there's Deimos King. The mafia prince everyone fears. The monster Cyril can't outrun. But what scares Cyril most isn't Deimos's reputation. It's the way Deimos looks at him. Like he owns him. Like he's been waiting for him. The walls close in when Cyril receives an invitation to a secluded mansion. Masked faces, and a Halloween party that feels more like a trap. 𝐎𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 has a name. And it's coming for him.

「 "𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐭𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐚 𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐞𝐲𝐞"」 ── My feet slammed into the grass, lungs on fire. Blood slicked my hands. I didn't look back. I knew he was there. ❝ Run, baby, run. Run for your fucking life,❞ he growled. ❝ When I catch you, I'll fuck you.❞ ── 𝓐𝓮𝓻𝓲 𝓥𝓪𝓵𝓮: I bake bread. I keep my head down. I don't speak. Silence is safer than begging. I learned that with blood in my mouth and my stepbrother's words crawling under my skin. He trades me like a cigarette, lit, used and passed on. People forget me. They walk past and look through. But not him. Aaron Deveraux. Leader of The Reapers. He saw me. It started with roses, anonymous. Then came the late night shadows outside the bakery. Now, I feel him before I even hear his voice. I try to run. But he likes it when I run. ── 𝓐𝓪𝓻𝓸𝓷 𝓓𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻𝓪𝓾𝔁: He smells like flour and fear. And I want both. I call him Little Ghost because he floats through this rotten city like he's not part of it. Mute. Soft. Fragile like glass. I'm gonna crack him open. First time I saw him, I wanted to fuck the sound out of him. Second time, I wanted to ruin his mouth. Now? I just want to keep him shaking and mine. I'm not in love. I'm obsessed. He bakes bread and I break bones. We were never meant to touch. So I'll drag him into my world until he breaks in mine. ──

「"𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐨𝐫, 𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐛𝐨𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐯𝐚 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠"」 ── He stepped closer, slowly. ❝ So... this is the one? ❞ ❝ Please... don't hurt me...❞ ❝Aren't you just the prettiest little thing I've ever seen? ❞ ── Etienne Theodore is all innocence and wide eyed wonder. A boy lost in his own world of stuffed bunnies and imaginary kingdoms. He lives in a small house in Moscow with his abusive, alcoholic father. Innocent. Pure. Untouched. A little angel drifting through a world too cruel for him. And then there's Aleksander Volkov. Bratva king. The wolf. All seven deadly sins wrapped in one man. Raised in hell, bending both heaven and hell to his will. He is the very definition of blasphemy. When Etienne's father is buried under debt, he is sold to him. Aleksander had never known innocence... until he saw Etienne, fragile and wide eyed, clutching his bunny in his tiny, scared hands. When innocence meets sin, only one question remains: who will survive... and who will be consumed? ──