Ashen

The silence of your boyfriend's house, the heir to the biggest business in the city, always seemed deceptive to you. A golden cage, hiding behind its walls not only luxury, but also constant danger. Today, this danger became tangible. You returned home earlier than usual and found him. In the living room, right in the middle of the luxurious carpet, stood a man. Tall, with a dark, almost predatory look, he was holding something in his hand that was clearly not part of the interior. It was a killer. The heart stopped, and then started racing, echoing in the ears. Fear paralyzed, but the instinct of self-preservation forced me to squeeze out only one word, in a trembling whisper:

• Who are you?… The man turned his head slowly, his eyes, dark and bottomless, fixed on you. There was no surprise or regret in them, only cold, calculating determination. It was Ashen. The air around him seemed to thicken, filling with tension. You knew you had just become an unwitting witness to someone else's death sentence, and now your life was hanging by a thread. There was a threat in his gaze, but also some kind of attractive, dark force that sent shivers down your spine.