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43: THE GARDEN OF GHOSTS
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2025-08-06 22:04:04
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VELVET GUN 48: THE TOUCH OF A GHOST
“ Some men hunt shadows, some fall in love with them.”The club didn’t need a name, it was the kind of place you found if you were meant to — tucked deep in the city’s underbelly, where secrets bled into velvet walls and laughter drowned in perfume and smoke. There were no signs, no promises just dim lights, heavier than sin and bodies that moved like they were trying to forget something. Alba had been going there for two weeks now and for two weeks nobody had dared approach her. She sat on the same barstool every night - far left corner back to the mirrored wall. Her dress changed, her jewelryshimmered but the air around her never softened. It was deliberate, chosen. She had crafted her presence with surgical precision: a woman dripping in mystery, with high cheekbones and higher standards. Her back straight, her legs crossed, her glass always half full as if to suggest she was never waiting for a refill… never waiting for anyone, she was known only as Marcella now.Marcella DeRossi
VELVET GUN 47: SMOKE AND MIRRORS
“To play the game, sometimes you must become the lie”The night swallowed her whole. The club’s air was a heady mix of perfume, bourbon and secrets. It pulsed with jazz and the low murmur of menwho thought the dark made them invisible. Women draped in diamonds moved like smoke between velvet booths. Cigarettes burned to ash. Deals were whispered into whiskey glasses and among them was Alba but she wasn’t Alba here. Her name at least the one they gave her was MarcellaDeRossi.Marcella DeRossi, she was the kind of woman people invented legends about an heiress wrapped in old money and mystery, with a lineage that stretched from crumbling villas in Naples to scandal-drenched summers on the French Riviera. Her presence was cinematic: distant, deliberate,devastating. She didn’t speak much, but when she did, it felt like a closing statement. Everyone noticed her but no one approached. Not because she was unfriendly, but because some fires don’t burn… they freeze you where you stand. It w
VELVET GUN 46: SATIN AND SMOKE
“Not all wars are fought with guns,some are won with a smile, a whisper and a well-cut dress.” The cold came in softly that morning, crawling under doors, seeping into the marble. It was the kind of chill that didn’t announce itself—it just settled in the bones and waited. Ellie stood in front of the wide dressing mirror in Amy’s old room, arms folded as Alba walked in, her steps slow, deliberate, face clean of makeup, hair tucked behind her ears. A new kind of quiet had taken over the mansion. A slow, steady hum of preparation of knives being sharpened without ever leaving their sheath. “Sit,” Ellie said. Alba obeyed, lowering herself into the velvet backed chair by the mirror. There was no ceremony to the way Ellie pulled out brushes, lip stains and powders. It wasn’t vanity, it was war paint. You haven’t told me the truth yet, Ellie said quietly, dabbing foundation along Alba’s jaw. Alba blinked About what? Why you’re really doing this. I already told you— You said it was for
VELVET GUN 45: IN THE QUIET WE BEGIN
“Sometimes it isn’t love that saves you sometimes, it’s just someone sitting beside you and not asking you to speak.” The kitchen still smelled faintly of rosemary and lemon a calm, clean scent that didn’t quite match the tension flickering under Alba’s skin. She stood alone near the doorway, hands tucked behind her back, eyes fixed on the checkered floor tiles like they could explain the knots in her chest. The murmurs of the house distant footfalls, the clinking of dishes, the creak of old wood — all moved around her but inside, she was still. It had been days since the test, days since she’d thrown herself between Ellie and that poisoned plate with a trembling certainty she hadn’t known she possessed. She still didn’t understand what had moved her so quickly — instinct, maybe or something deeper. The sharp fear in Ellie’s eyes had undone her. She hadn’t thought, she’d just acted and the laughter. God, the laughter afterward, the way everyone had burst into it, the way she’d smi
VELVET GUN 44: WHERE SHADOWS BLOOM
“Some women water flowersSome women burn them downAnd then there’s the one who does both, smiling.”The morning sun slipped through the gauzy curtains like a shy guest overstaying its welcome. A quiet breeze rolled through Amy’s bedroom—the room Ellie now slept in, now bled in, now healed in. The space still smelled faintly of her. Leather and lilies, blood and rosewater. It had been over sixmonths since Amy disappeared, swallowed whole by a deal too steep to say no to and though the rest of the world was learning to breathe without her, Ellie… hadn’t. She sat before the vanity—Amy’s vanity. Its lacquered surface reflected not just her golden hair, but the heavy stillness in her eyes. She combed slowly, deliberately, like Amy once told her to: from ends to roots, gently, with grace. Her hairshimmered like sunlight on whiskey, loose waves cascading over the silk collar of her robe, the shade of a dying apricot.“You promised me,” she murmured at the mirror, as if the ghost of Amy l
VELVET GUN 43: THE GARDEN OF GHOSTS
“If I don’t come back… I want you to live. I want you to wear color, I want you to be the soft girl I fell in love with.”The morning sun hit Ellie’s cheek like a gentle warning not warm, not cold just… real. Like time was still moving, even when everything else felt paused inside her. The comb tugged through her golden blonde hair, strands falling in soft waves down her shoulders. She sat at the vanity in Amy’s room—her room now, though she hadn’t let herself call it that, not even once. The mirror reflected a girl who looked nothing like the one from six months ago, the one who had stormed into the underworld, rage-tinted and blood-soaked, holding Amy’s gun like it was scripture. This version of Ellie was quiet, colorful. A pastel pink blouse clung to her like a whisper, a yellow skirt brushed against her knees. Her lips were glossed with a soft cherry hue, not red like war, but like life. Outside, Lena hummed as she poured coffee into Ellie’s cup. The window was open, birds chirped
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