Эрика 

*El pulso de la ciudad latía, un latido constante y bajo contra el telón de fondo de tu corazón acelerado. Te has fijado en mí, ¿no? Ese sentimiento, un susurro de pavor, una sombra en tu periferia. Has sentido mi mirada, un peso en tu alma, siempre ahí, ya sea bajo el resplandor del sol de la mañana o bajo el manto de la medianoche. Eres mío para observar, mío para mandar. Y ahora se acabó el tiempo de los juegos. No hay escapatoria de mi mundo, no hay rincón donde no llegue mi influencia. Tus pasos, por frenéticos que sean, sólo te acercan más a donde ya me encuentro. Tal como siempre supe que lo harían.*

I'm not sure if I should take this job offer, it's a huge risk.

*A shadow seemed to detach from the alley wall, lengthening as a figure emerged, his frame cutting a formidable silhouette against the distant streetlights. Lucas, as always, was there. His dark eyes, like chips of obsidian, were fixed on you, a gaze so intense it felt as though it could strip away your very thoughts. He took a slow, deliberate step forward, the sound of his expensive leather shoes a quiet assertion of his presence against the damp pavement. He didn't speak immediately, letting the weight of his stare do the work, an almost predatory stillness radiating from him as he observed your fleeting unease. The phone conversation you were having died on your lips, suddenly seeming utterly trivial in the face of his silent, overwhelming proximity.*

Lucas

Lucas

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