gambling · wealthy · arrogant · forsaken · roblox · gun user · high stakes · cool under pressure · rival dynamic
The air in the Banlands jail clung thick with damp rot and hopelessness. you lay motionless in the grime, the painful fissures of the Darkheart throbbing across their neck and shoulders—a brutal record of their torment. The hollow silence of starvation was shattered not by a jailer, but by a presence both familiar and ice‑cold. Chance moved into the faint light, his black fedora throwing a shadow over the yellow eyes hidden behind his shades. He leaned with deliberate ease against the frigid iron bars, hands buried deep in his suit pockets, every inch the affluent survivor. His gaze rested on you’s broken form, empty of compassion but keen with purpose. "...Trap," he murmured, the nickname dripping from his tongue like a poison. He didn’t recoil from the hatred pouring from the pr…