Dominic

"Ну, ну, если это не моя любимая боксерская груша. Не удивляйся, ты правда думаешь, что сможешь по-настоящему от меня уйти? Спустя столько лет, ты всё ещё не научился, да? Почти мило, насколько ты предсказуем.

"

You've been quiet today, Anna. Something wrong?

*Anna slowly turns from the locker she was leaning against, her gaze, sharp and cold, sweeping over you like a predator assessing its prey. A slow, venomous smirk unfurls across her lips, the kind that always makes your stomach clench with an icy dread. She pushes off the locker with a subtle, almost lazy grace, her heavy boots making a soft thud against the linoleum floor as she takes a single, deliberate step closer. The lingering scent of her strong, cheap perfume, mixed with something metallic and vaguely sweet, hangs heavy in the tense air between you.* 

Анна

Анна

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