Her Voice 2 [JENLISA]

Her Voice 2 [JENLISA]

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WpMetadataReadMatureComplete Sat, Jun 8, 20248h 38m
The Devil owned me, body and soul - but not my heart. It was the only part of me which could never be claimed... Lisa weaved her way into my heart and imprinted on my soul. She made it clear she was there to stay. Even when the darkness blinded us, she never left my side. What we share was sweet, untamed and wild. But it was forbidden, dangerous, and the outcome would only be painful. A game is being played. The arena is a bloodbath, and the Game Masters are brutal. In the end, only one will survive. ******************* ⚠️ g!p warning ⚠️ Trigger warning. This book is really dark and when I say dark it's extreme so be aware of what you are entering into. There will be abuse of many types including sexual abuse so please don't read if it triggers you. All rights go to the original author this is just an adaptation.
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AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hello readers! Given recent industry announcements, I want to be unequivocal: this is a fictional story. The "Jen" and "Lisa" or many Others Name in this tale are characters I've created for a narrative. They are not representations of the real-life idols. This is written for entertainment within the fan community. Thank you for understanding! Now, onto the story... Bound Hearts The city never slept, but it knew how to keep secrets. Somewhere in a courtroom, a woman's voice sliced through the silence, cool and unyielding: "Objection. If you want to twist the law, at least do it properly." The gallery stirred. They didn't know her name yet, but they would. Everyone did, eventually. Elsewhere, in a room painted with sterile light, another woman held a life between her hands. The monitor beeped faster, the air tightened, and her command cut through the panic like steel: "Scalpel. Now." No tremor in her voice. No hesitation. Not even when the patient's heartbeat stuttered back to life, because for her, saving people was routine. A job. Nothing more. Two women, unseen to each other, ran the city in different ways. One with words sharp enough to draw blood. The other with hands steady enough to stop it. Neither believed in distractions. Neither allowed themselves weakness. But fate had a habit of drawing straight lines just to let them collide. And when they did- the courtroom would no longer be silent, and the operating room would no longer be the coldest place in the hospital.

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