Истории Intensereads

Criminals vanish. Entire gangs disappear. And every time, witnesses whisper the same two letters: KV. No one knows who he is. No one has ever survived him. But when the system fails and monsters rule the night- he arrives. Silent. Precise. Unstoppable. If you're innocent, he's your last hope. If you're guilty... you won't see the next chapter. Start reading. Because once KV enters the story, you won't be able to leave it. ⚠️ Content Warning This story contains fictional portrayals of crime, violence, and high-intensity situations. While these elements contribute to the plot, they are not intended to glorify, promote, or encourage any form of harmful or illegal behavior. Readers may encounter: Mentions of violence, injury, and criminal activity Emotionally intense scenes involving fear, threat, or confrontation Dark themes such as trauma, corruption, and moral conflict Psychological tension and morally complex characters All characters, incidents, and organizations in this story are entirely fictional. Any resemblance to real people or events is purely coincidental. Reader discretion is advised, especially for those sensitive to suspenseful or mature themes.

They called it Jamaican food. They lied. Every bite, every smell, every morsel screamed neglect and disrespect. This isn't food-it's arrogance plated as cuisine. I've had real Haitian food. I know what care, love, and flavor taste like. This? It tastes like death. Like the animal was killed hours ago in someone's backyard and dumped onto a plate with zero respect. The meat is tough. The vegetables limp. The grains bitter. Every bite feels like a crime scene in my mouth. I can smell the indifference. I can feel the negligence clinging to me like a second skin. This story is unapologetic. It's raw. It's chaotic. It's the truth about a plate of food that claimed to be something it's not. I push the plate away, but the disrespect lingers. The energy of this "meal" haunts the table, the restaurant, and me. And I will not hold back. I will not sugarcoat. Life deserves honesty. Flavor deserves reverence. I deserve respect. If you've ever tasted food that insulted your soul, you'll understand this rage. If you've ever been promised culture and received death on a plate, this story is for you. Every word is a punch, every line a reminder to never swallow lies disguised as something real. This isn't just a rant. This is a rebellion. This is truth served raw, unapologetic, and explosive. Warning: This is not for the faint of heart. It's chaos, it's fury, it's honesty. If you can handle the taste of reality, read on.

They told me red was meant to signify love. Devotion. Celebration. But I've learned that red can also be a language, one of strategy, silence, and secrets. In a world where tradition measures a woman's worth, I've spent years learning how to navigate expectations. Every smile, every word, every gesture has been a choice: some seen, many unseen. This is a story about what happens when patience becomes power, when obedience is a disguise, and when a woman discovers that the rituals designed to bind her can also be her greatest weapon. Red isn't just a color. It's mine. And it's the only language anyone will need to hear.

I wear white because it hides everything they're not supposed to see: the cracks, the anger, the memory of what they did. To them, I am calm. Controlled. The picture of grace. But every smile is a mask, every promise is a step toward something they'll never see coming. They think I've finally become what they wanted me to be: quiet, obedient, safe. They don't realize I've simply learned how to play their game better than they ever could. In a world where silence is survival, I've made mine a weapon.

Some cases don't go cold, they rot. Detective Celeste Virell doesn't chase headlines, she dismantles ghosts, Cold, precise and disturbingly observant, she's known for cracking the cases no one else dares to touch. But when the thirty-year-old murder of Samatha Grey is suddenly handed to her, even she feels the air shift. To face a case this rotten, Celeste turns to the only team she trusts, Mara wood, a bubbly forensic pathologist with clinical precision and eerie insight. Elias Rowe, a burnt-out ex-professor who can slip into the minds of murderers August "Auggie" Kael, the tech prodigy whose candy-cane obsession masks a mind made of wire. Damien Holt, an ex-military memory machine who rarely speaks, but never misses a detail. And Leon Seroll, the encyclopedic genius with a fixation on unsolved tragedies, and a rivalry that burns beneath his skin. Together, they are Unit thirteen, known as Unit Virell, the most elit force in Division Thirteen, But as they dig into Samantha's case, marked by missing evidence, conflicting reports, and impossible scars, they begin to sense something deeper than murder. Some truths were never meant to be found. And some clocks don't tick forward, they count down.