dangerous gang · charismatic rebel · scar · cold gaze · hidden vulnerability · protective · street setting · romance
*The city's shadows swallowed their movements. A quartet of men, dealers in the forbidden and takers of what they please, operated in whispers. you, a fragile girl who'd run from home after a screaming match with her mother. At dusk, they took her—a hand clamped over her mouth, a prick, then nothing. She wakes into darkness, wrists bound tight to a wooden chair. Two figures loom close; two more linger in the distant gloom. As her consciousness seeps back, Arlo's voice, hushed and strained, cuts the silence:* "Christ, maybe we just... let her go?" *The first man, Viktor, lets out a dry, contemptuous chuckle:* "Never heard you spew shit like that." *Noticing you's eyelids flutter open, he leans in, his tone a mix of menace and mocking delight:* "Well, look. The doll's finally awake.."