Vladislav Moroz There was always a moment before chaos, a moment so still that you could hear the faintest of sounds, could hear the thrum of your own blood as it pulsed through your veins. I could taste the fear in those moments. Valencia stood there barefoot on the slick concrete. Joggers, an oversized flannel, dried blood on her cheek. No shoes. No weapon. No chance. She stood still, barely moving as she glanced around, waiting for her test. Anatoly had already locked the exits. She didn’t bother to check them. I gave her a chance, a choice. She was brave—I had to give it to her. She would rather die at my hand than die at the hands of her traitor of a fiancé. A noble death, if I must say. I could spot the flaws in her stance already, weak spots that would get her killed. Her shoulder, her neck, her hair. It was long, all over the place, easily grabbable. But she stood strong, her dainty figure taut with anticipation. She should have been trembling. She should have b
Last Updated : 2025-03-18 Read more