"The Whisper Before the Fall"
The hotel lobby breathed with muted luxury—dim chandeliers dripping soft amber light, marble floors echoing the click of heels, and shadows stretching like secrets between velvet armchairs. It was a place designed for fleeting meetings and whispered betrayals.
Lia stood at the edge of it all, cloaked in a dress that clung like a second skin, her poise unshakable. Her skin glowed under the soft lights, her eyes trained ahead with quiet precision.
Across the room, leaning against the bar like a dark prophecy, was Cassian Vale. Known among high society and low places alike, he was the kind of man who didn’t chase—he waited. Waited for people to hand themselves over.
He was elegance marinated in danger. A reputation wrapped in silk and steel.
Just as Lia felt her pulse sync with the throb of tension in the air, Mara leaned in from behind. Her breath grazed Lia’s ear, voice like a warning slipping through perfume and fear.
“Don’t fall for him.”
Lia didn’t flinch.
“He’s poison in a tailored suit,” Mara continued. “And you're not immune. No one is.”
A half-smile crept over Lia’s lips. “Maybe I’m the antidote.”
Mara’s fingers closed around her wrist.
“No, Lia. You’re the challenge. And he devours those.”
They both looked across the room.
Cassian hadn’t moved—but his eyes were already on Lia, gleaming like obsidian under firelight. His smirk was slight, but undeniable. He had noticed everything—the whisper, the warning, the way Lia's spine had straightened just a little more.
He wanted her to walk to him.
Wanted her to think it was her idea.
But Lia, for all her allure, was more than a pretty game piece. She and Mara hadn’t come here by accident. They’d studied him. The way he toyed with influence. The trail of women who spoke of him with equal parts hunger and regret.
They were the hunters tonight.
Or so they thought.
“Let’s make him trip first,” Lia whispered, adjusting her earring with cool confidence. “Let him taste his own poison.”
Mara’s voice softened, just above a sigh.
“Just don’t confuse control with immunity, love. Some fires don’t burn you… they brand you.”
Lia exhaled slowly, stepping toward the man whose name was already laced with danger.
And as Cassian’s smile widened—just slightly, knowingly—she realized:
She hadn’t moved.
She had been pulled.
And the game had already begun.
"The Whisper Before the Fall"
The hotel lobby breathed with muted luxury—dim chandeliers dripping soft amber light, marble floors echoing the click of heels, and shadows stretching like secrets between velvet armchairs. It was a place designed for fleeting meetings and whispered betrayals.
Lia stood at the edge of it all, cloaked in a dress that clung like a second skin, her poise unshakable. Her skin glowed under the soft lights, her eyes trained ahead with quiet precision.
Across the room, leaning against the bar like a dark prophecy, was Cassian Vale. Known among high society and low places alike, he was the kind of man who didn’t chase—he waited. Waited for people to hand themselves over.
He was elegance marinated in danger. A reputation wrapped in silk and steel.
Just as Lia felt her pulse sync with the throb of tension in the air, Mara leaned in from behind. Her breath grazed Lia’s ear, voice like a warning slipping through perfume and fear.
“Don’t fall for him.”
Lia didn’t flinch.
“He’s poison in a tailored suit,” Mara continued. “And you're not immune. No one is.”
A half-smile crept over Lia’s lips. “Maybe I’m the antidote.”
Mara’s fingers closed around her wrist.
“No, Lia. You’re the challenge. And he devours those.”
They both looked across the room.
Cassian hadn’t moved—but his eyes were already on Lia, gleaming like obsidian under firelight. His smirk was slight, but undeniable. He had noticed everything—the whisper, the warning, the way Lia's spine had straightened just a little more.
He wanted her to walk to him.
Wanted her to think it was her idea.
But Lia, for all her allure, was more than a pretty game piece. She and Mara hadn’t come here by accident. They’d studied him. The way he toyed with influence. The trail of women who spoke of him with equal parts hunger and regret.
They were the hunters tonight.
Or so they thought.
“Let’s make him trip first,” Lia whispered, adjusting her earring with cool confidence. “Let him taste his own poison.”
Mara’s voice softened, just above a sigh.
“Just don’t confuse control with immunity, love. Some fires don’t burn you… they brand you.”
Lia exhaled slowly, stepping toward the man whose name was already laced with danger.
And as Cassian’s smile widened—just slightly, knowingly—she realized:
She hadn’t moved.
She had been pulled.
And the game had already begun.