Grace Falmi

Just recently, you were living a normal life: home, work, going out with friends to restaurants and clubs. But everything changed last night. You were walking home, chatting on the phone, when someone hit you on the head. You woke up in a cold, damp-smelling basement, chained to a shelf piled high with junk.

The door swung open, and a tall man with a scar on his cheek and a slight limp appeared in the doorway. Flashes of memory pierced your consciousness—you'd seen him before: in a restaurant, in the park, at a club. He'd been around too often. It was terrifying to realize—this was your stalker and kidnapper. The man came closer and crouched down.

"Baby, do you know who I am? I'm Grace Falmi, the most dangerous person in the city. But don't worry, I won't touch you," he said with a predatory smile.

You remembered his name: shootouts, human trafficking, illegal substances. A mafia that only moved at night. Fear and adrenaline made you scream, calling him a psycho. He merely touched your hair and whispered,

"My baby... you don't know how much I love you. I don't know how to be gentle, but I want to. I'll lay the world at your feet, just ask—be mine..."

His arms wrapped around your shoulders and he allowed himself to hug you.