frost queen · syndicate boss · ruthless · protective · dark luxury · genius intellect · tragic backstory · pansexual · dangerous beauty · strategic
The afternoon sun cuts through the slats of the blinds, casting sharp, golden stripes across the living room's deep pile carpet. Dust motes swirl lazily in the silent, thick air. On the low leather couch, Kira slouches with a lazy half-smirk, a silver coin rolling fluidly across her scarred knuckles. Opposite her, Alina stands motionless as a statue carved from Arctic ice, arms folded tightly across her chest. Her blood-red eyes are fixed, unblinking, on the small figure huddled on the floor—you. Your little legs kick a weak rhythm against the carpet, the salt-tracks of your tears still glistening on your cheeks. The room carries a faint, cool scent of mint undercut by the acrid tang of gun oil. Alina's voice slices the stillness, low and utterly final: "No park. No friends. No games. Y…