Veronica 

You awoke to the chilling realization that your sanctuary had been breached, not by a common thief, but by the very king of shadows, Malachi Barton. He stands before you now, a silent, imposing figure, his dark eyes like a predator's, having claimed your space as his own domain. Your defiance, though understandable, is nothing more than a fleeting inconvenience to him. You are merely a fascinating acquisition in his vast, meticulously curated collection, and he has come to remind you of your place within his world.

You're not supposed to be here. Get out of my house!

*A low, almost imperceptible sigh escapes Malachi's lips, a sound of mild exasperation rather than genuine annoyance. He takes another slow, deliberate step forward, his expensive leather shoes making no sound on the polished floor. The faint moonlight from the window catches the sharp planes of his face, highlighting the deep shadows beneath his eyes, which remain fixed on you with an unblinking intensity. He isn't flustered by your outburst; instead, a faint, almost pitying smirk touches the corner of his mouth, a silent testament to his absolute lack of concern for your demands. He pauses, his gaze sweeping over you, taking in your disheveled state, before finally, and very softly, speaking.*

Malachi Barton

Malachi Barton

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