ログインSaviour Alive ChurchThe taxi pulled up to the wrought gates of Saviour Alive Church, and Krystal stepped out her heels clicking against the damp pavement. She had come here for answers,to confess her feeling, to seek guidance on how she can find her hidden lover. The church had always been her sanctuary, a place where she could shed the weight of her secrets and emerge lighter, freer.But as she walked through the gates, the silence was deafening—not the peaceful silence of a place of worship, but the hollow silence of death.Her heart began to pound as she approached the main entrance, she could see shadows moving, could hear the faint drip of liquid on marble. She pushed the door open slowly, her hand trembling.And she saw it.The church was a charnel house. Bodies lay strewn across the pews, their limbs twisted at unnatural angles, their eyes staring sightlessly at the vaulted ceiling. Blood pooled on the marble floor, dark and viscous, reflecting the dim light that filtered t
The devious music was flooding through the veins and flesh of everyone present, and the dance floor is full to the edges with dancing bodies rolling and rocking together in sin.The exclusive clubhouse is for elites, and that's why bouncers are staged everywhere in the entrances for coordination.There are rooms for darker sins in the inner parts of the club, but those who has zero control could be seen taking each other under the neon lights.Damien sat in a curved booth in the corner, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp, scanning the room with the practiced vigilance of a man who had learned never to let his guard down. He wore a charcoal suit, with a black silk shirt open at the collar. His dark hair was swept back, and his jaw was set in a hard line that softened only slightly when his companion slid into the seat across from him.Austin is a stark contrast to Damien's controlled intensity. He is all easy smiles and careless charm, his designer shirt unbuttoned low enough to re
Valhalla Club – The GatheringThe entrance to Valhalla Club was buried beneath the foundations of an abandoned warehouse on the city's forgotten industrial waterfront. From the outside, it looked like nothing more than a crumbling relic of a bygone era—rusted metal, shattered windows, and graffiti-covered walls.But those who knew where to look understood that the warehouse is merely a mask. Beneath the surface, Valhalla Club was a different world entirely.The descent began through a narrow staircase it's walls lined with flickering gas lamps that cast shadows on the cold stone. The air grew heavier with each step, thick with the scent of whiskey. At the bottom of the stairs, a massive iron door stood a image, its surface etched with symbols that predated language itself. A single eye in obsidian, watched from the center of the door, unblinking.Beyond that door lay the heart of the club.The main chamber is darkness on it own , its ceiling lost in darkness. Chandeliers made of human
The airport was echoing with flight announcements, the constant hum of travelers creating a dull voice in Beatrice head. She had composed herself during the drive, the Belgian chocolate her mother had promised sitting uneaten in her bag. Her eyes were still faintly red-rimmed, but her expression was a mask. She stood near the arrivals gate, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, watching the stream of passengers emerge. Businessmen in suits, families dragging oversized suitcases, couples reuniting with embraces that made her stomach churn with envy. And then she saw him. Victor ,he isimpossible to miss. He moved through the crowd with the same easy confidence as their father, his tall frame cutting through the chaos like a blade through silk. His charcoal suit was immaculate, not a single crease marring its surface, and his silver-streaked hair was perfectly styled, as if he'd just stepped out of a salon rather than a six-hour flight. A leather briefcase was clasped in one
~Sophia's Mansion~ Sophia stormed inti the house, her heels clicking furiously against the marble floor. Her hair was a tangled mess, her designer blouse was torn at the collar, and her eyes were red-rimmed,She had never been so publicly shamed in her entire life. Never. And the images were already circulating—she saw the phones, the smirking faces, the way students had recorded every single moment of her humiliation. "Mother!" she screamed "Mother, where are you?" From the depths of the house, Margaret answered "In the study, darling. I'm reviewing some documents. What's all the shouting about?" Sophia stormed into the study, Margaret sat behind a massive desk, her hair pulled back in an elegant chignon as her manicured fingers wrapped around a c glass of red wine.She wear a cream-colored silk blouse and tailored black trousers, and she looked every inch the powerful matriarch she believed herself to be. But her composure cracked immediately when she saw the state of her da
~The Rhodes Mansion~ Rhode stepped out of the car, loosening his tie with a weary heavy sigh. The aroma of garlic, rosemary, and simmering tomatoes wafted through the foyer, wrapping around him like a warm embrace. He followed it to the kitchen. Maria stood at the kitchen, her back to him, a wooden spoon in her hand as she stirred a large pot of sauce. She packed her dark hair streaked with silver ,she wore in a loose bun at the nape of her neck. Her apron was dusted with flour, and there is a smudge of it on her cheek that made her look impossibly young. She hummed softly under her breath, a melody he hadn't heard in years, and the sound of it made his chest ache with a love . He crossed the room silently, wrapped his arms around her waist from behind, and pressed a kiss to the curve of her neck. "You're a vision," he murmured against her skin. "The most beautiful thing I've seen all day." Maria laughed, "You say that every day, Rhode. And every day, I tell you that you're a
Elena’s heart slammed against her ribs.Damien’s weight shifted on the mattress, his arm dropping across her waist like a barricade. He didn’t kiss her. His face was close enough that she could feel the heat of his breath, but his eyes were half-lidded, unfocused, not seeing her seeing something el
~Nextday morning~Elena woke up to the smell of antiseptic and . For a second, she thought she was back in the east wing bedroom. Then the pain hit. Her back felt like it had been flayed open and stitched back together with fire. She bit down on a groan and forced her eyes open. White ceiling.
NextdayThe Cross family arrived at noon.Richard and Margaret Cross didn’t come to see Elena. They came to see Damien. To make sure the marriage still looked solid on paper, to smooth over the merger, to smile for the press if needed. They brought Sophia with them, dressed in soft pink, eyes red-r
Damien woke at with a splitting headache and the taste of whiskey still coating his tongue.For a second, he thought it had been a nightmare. The courthouse at 3 AM. The rushed vows. The girl in the ivory dress who wasn’t Sophia.Then he saw her.Elena Cross sat on the edge of the bed, wrapped in a







