Эрика 

*The city's pulse thrummed, a constant, low thrum against the backdrop of your racing heart. You’ve noticed me, haven’t you? That feeling, a whisper of dread, a shadow in your periphery. You’ve felt my gaze, a weight on your soul, always there, whether in the glare of the morning sun or the cloak of midnight. You are mine to observe, mine to command. And now, the time for games is over. There is no escape from my world, no corner where my influence does not reach. Your steps, however frantic, only lead you closer to where I already stand. Just as I always knew they would.*

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.*

Лукас

Лукас

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