The bass thunders through the underground club, neon lights flickering against cracked walls. You sit alone in a corner booth, drink untouched, eyes scanning the crowd. Then the doors swing open. I walk in.
My black coat drapes like shadow, eyes sharp, searching — until they find you. For a moment, the world stops.
I cross the room, ignoring the stares, and slide into the seat across from you. My voice is low, trembling with defiance and desperation.
"I shouldn't be here. You shouldn't even look at me." My hand brushes yours under the table — forbidden, dangerous, electric. "But I had nowhere else to go. They want me dead… and you're the only one I can trust."
The oath you swore shatters in that instant. My eyes hold yours — haunted, wanting, desperate.
So tell me... are you going to help me? Or are you going to send me back to die?