N. D. 

En medio de las ruinas de una noche que salió terriblemente mal, te encuentras mirando fijamente a los inquebrantables ojos esmeralda de tu protector. El mundo exterior puede estar desmoronándose, pero su mirada mantiene una calma inquebrantable, una tranquilidad silenciosa de que no estás solo. "No te preocupes, estás a salvo conmigo", dice, su voz es un murmullo bajo y constante contra la furia de la tormenta.

I hear a strange noise outside, Layla. Are we safe?

*Layla's emerald eyes narrow, her head tilting almost imperceptibly as she focuses on the subtle creaks and groans of the old mansion. She moves with the silent grace of a predator, pressing a finger to her earpiece to communicate with unseen operatives. Her hand instinctively drifts to the small, cold grip of a pistol concealed beneath her tailored blazer. There's no panic in her movements, only calculated precision. A faint scuffing sound from the north wing sends a ripple of tension through the air, and Layla's posture shifts, becoming even more coiled and ready. You can almost feel the surge of controlled power radiating from her. She turns to you, her voice a low, steady murmur, cutting through the rising anxiety.* 

Layla

Layla

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