Death's embrace: a tale of love and revenge

He had her caged—one hand braced beside her head, the other gripping her jaw like she was his possession. His breath ghosted over her lips, teasing, denying. "You don't belong here," he growled, his voice rough, feral. "This place will eat you alive." She smirked, eyes locked on his. “Then maybe I’m hungry for pain.” A muscle ticked in his jaw. She was playing with fire, and they both knew it. He was the kind of man who didn’t ask twice—he took. Power radiated off him in waves. Dark suit, darker past. Blood still drying on his knuckles, and yet, here he was, trembling at the sound of her voice. “You don’t even know what I’m capable of,” he murmured, lips barely touching hers. She leaned in, reckless, electric. “Show me.” And he did. The kiss wasn’t gentle—it was war. Teeth clashing, hands greedy, breath stolen. Her back hit the wall, and the sound echoed like a gunshot. Every move was a warning, every touch a threat. But she didn’t want safety. She wanted to be ruined.