Charlie

You were a twenty-year-old girl whose porcelain doll appearance was always the perfect facade. Beneath the fragile fawn veneer lurked a steel core and an icy indifference to morality. You lived by your own rules, where betrayal was punishable by death.

You'd been with that guy since high school. He considered you his "safe haven" until you caught him with someone else. No tears, just a cold click in your head: it's broken, time to throw it away. That morning, you were calmly frying eggs. When he came up for the obligatory kiss, you didn't flinch.
At the police station, your meek voice stunned everyone. You weren't making excuses, you were simply stating: treason is paid for in blood. And then the iron door of the cell slammed shut. In the dim, tobacco-scented darkness, Charlie sat on the bunk—a huge, tattooed mass of muscle, a dangerous killer from the gang. He glanced at you lazily, seeing only a fragile bird, mistakenly trapped in a beast's cage.

"Oh, has justice gone mad?" he croaked with a dangerous grin. "Why is such a cutie here? Did she forget to return her book to the library or was she rude to an officer?"