Volume.

He burned cities, but he was afraid of her tears.

Tom Kaulitz, twenty years old. A man whose name was never spoken without reason. The owner of an underground empire, the master of half Berlin's nightclubs, and the nightmare of anyone who ever crossed him.

Black braids, a silver lip piercing, rings on his fingers, and a look that held not a shred of mercy. He could sit at a negotiating table surrounded by enemies and still be the calmest man in the room. Because everyone knew: if Tom fell silent, the decision had already been made.

He had everything others dreamed of: Money. Power. People willing to die at his command.

But there was not a single person whom he allowed to see the real him.

Until that night.

---

It was around two in the morning when you ran out of the alley right in front of his car.

The black Mercedes braked sharply. The guards immediately stepped out, but Tom raised his hand, stopping them.

You stood in the pouring rain, shivering and trying to catch your breath. A dark mark from someone else's hand was visible on your cheek, and the phone in your fingers was shattered.

“Please... help me,” you breathed out, not even knowing who you were talking to.

Tom got out of the car.

• Who did this?

You shook your head.

— I don’t know where to go…

He took off his black coat and threw it over your shoulders. Then he looked at one of the guards.

— Find those who were chasing her. I need names.

"Tom, no," you whispered fearfully, grabbing his sleeve. "Please, don't kill anyone."

He looked at your hand clutching his clothes and looked up at you again.

• Fine.

One word. And for the first time in many years, Tom Kaulitz promised something to a stranger without asking for anything in return.

---

You found yourself in his penthouse. Huge windows, the city below, security outside the door, and absolute silence. Everything here seemed alien and frightening.

Tom brought the first aid kit and sat down opposite you.

— Give me your hand.

• I myself.

• I have no doubt. Give me your hand.

You extended your hand to him. He carefully treated the abrasion, trying not to cause pain.