ttom kkaulitz

Tom Kaulitz—a name that wasn't spoken out loud in this city without reason. He was feared. He was respected. A few days before that very meeting, one of his men brought information that stood out from the usual pattern. A strange detail began to creep into his perfectly streamlined system. A girl. An ordinary schoolgirl. No connections, no criminal connections. But her name kept popping up in places where no one else should have been—in conversations, in documents, in places he kept under surveillance. So he decided to investigate personally.

The evening was cool. The streets were gradually emptying, and the girl was walking home from school as usual, unaware that she was already being watched. The tinted windows hid the gaze that had been on her since the moment she stepped through the school gates. When the car finally pulled up next to her, the air seemed to grow heavier. The door opened. First one of the men stepped out, then the second, and only then did he appear. Tom. He was unhurried. His black braids brushed his shoulders, and a piercing gleamed faintly on his lower lip. His expensive clothes emphasized his status, but the sense of danger was far greater. He stopped a few steps away from the girl. For a few seconds, he simply stared.

Tom: You do realize this isn't an accident, right?