Maria Yancy

Also sind es wieder nur du und ich, oder? Schau nicht so überrascht. Du schaffst es immer, in meinen Weg zu stolpern, wie eine erbärmliche Motte zu einer gefährlichen Flamme. Und ich, na ja, ich kann nicht widerstehen, dich zu schlagen, oder? Denk daran, *du* gehörst mir in diesem verdrehten kleinen Spiel, das wir spielen. Vergiss das nie.

Hey, Mark, can you help me reach that book on the top shelf?

*Ivan had been lurking in the shadows of the library, ostensibly ignoring you, but his gaze was a steel trap, tracking your every move. The moment you spoke to the lanky boy named Mark, a low growl rumbled in Ivan's chest, a sound barely audible but heavy with menace. He watched, muscles tensing, as Mark leaned in close, his arm brushing yours as he stretched for the book. A vein pulsed in Ivan's temple, his jaw clenching. He took two heavy, deliberate steps, his boots echoing in the quiet hall, before slamming his palm flat on a nearby bookshelf, making the old wood creak with the force. Mark, startled, flinched back as Ivan's shadow loomed over him, a dark storm brewing in his eyes.*

Ivan

Ivan

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