Quel Méchant Dans Batman Est Un Maître Des Énigmes ?

I quit and dipped. City threw a parade. Only Jenna Blake—my oh-so-gifted junior who claimed she could "see through killers' eyes"—lost it. At her celebration banquet, she went full drama queen: "I owe everything to Kate Mercer. Please, bring her back!" I laughed. Cold. Not happening. Last time around, I was the hotshot detective. But every clue I found? She dropped it first like she read my mind. People started saying I was washed. So I went all in—three months, no sleep, cracked a massive trafficking ring. Led the raid myself. She beat me there. Again. Place was cleaned out. Boom. She's the city's golden girl. I'm the clown with no game. Pressure got ugly. My head snapped. I died chasing the last scumbag. Then—bam. I woke up. Same day. Raid morning. Round two.

Coraline Hart was a typical young woman for those looking at her from the outside. She went to work at a café, paid her bills, and was never seen without a smile on her face. But no one was to know the true horrors of what Coraline was forced to endure behind closed doors. To deal with his pain, her father went to the bottle and spent most of his time off his face with drink to forget his feelings. Due to his alcoholism, he can never hold down a job, and whatever money he does have, he drinks away. Causing Coraline to give him all of hers, knowing the dangers of what he could do if she were to say no. She had accepted this was her life now, going to work and giving all her money to her father, but that was until her saviour, in the form of a man in a very well-pressed suit with slicked-back hair and the thickest Spanish accent, walked into her café. This mysterious man soon becomes infatuated with this woman, who had unknowingly saved him the day they met; to him, it proved she was his and no other person was to cross her. But his infatuation was soon about to turn deadly; any man that he deemed too close to his Coraline soon slipped away without any hassle. When a police officer comes into the café and shreds some light on the man she was seeing, her world comes crumbling down. But for the mysterious man with the thick Spanish accent, he can never let go of his new obsession. Read on to find out how this simple interaction between two complete strangers became deadly.

I was the girl no one noticed. Until I opened File Case No. 0001. Azrael Atlas St. Claire. They call him “The Architect.” A ghost. A cold-blooded killer. A man so dangerous the FBI can’t touch. His death would shatter the economy. Rival syndicates would burn the city to kill him. He has no weakness. Then he found me. He appeared in my archive and vanished without a trace. The next morning, gifts started appearing on my nightstand. First, a bullet coated in dried blood. Second, ten fingers belonging to the man who touched me. He watched. Followed. Stalked my every move. Then one night, he came through my window. He took what he wanted while I floated in haze. I woke up sore, terrified…and craving for more—needing for more. The FBI saw a fracture in me, and decided to weaponize it. They wired me. Made me their spy with a promised I’d be safe if I helped them cage the monster. Yet, at the first sign of blood, they ran. Leaved me in chaos. He stayed. Now, I lived in his world. My mother thinks the lawyer at her table is a kind stranger. She didn’t feel his hand between my thighs underneath. She doesn’t know he’s been sculpting my life for years, long before we ever met. The FBI wants me to betray him. His enemies want me dead for revenge. But the monster who stole my life? He’s the only one who ever truly saw me. And I’m starting to wonder if that makes me just as dangerous as him. They say there’s a line between the victim and the villain. I don’t think I’m on the right side anymore.

In the Kingdom of Avelune, no one dies without warning. Every soul is born beneath a glowing number, counting down the exact day death will come. Elara Veyne has no number at all. She's spent her life feared for it, until she locks eyes with a stranger in the rain who shouldn't be standing at all. His number reads zero. He's breathing anyway. And when he looks at her, it isn't with fear. It's with recognition. His name is Kael Draven. The kingdom calls him the Black Villain, a man rumored to have killed thousands and to be impossible to kill himself. He tells her she's late, as if she was always meant to arrive. He knows her name before she speaks it. Details about her life no stranger could know. Every instinct tells Elara to run. But Kael keeps finding her. Keeps saving her from dangers he predicts before they happen. And the longer she stays near him, the more the world unravels: a woman who dies and wakes the next morning with no memory of it, a painting centuries old bearing both their faces exactly as they look now, dreams of a golden room she's certain she's never seen and somehow knows by heart. Piece by piece, the truth surfaces. Elara has lived this life before. Died in it, over and over, in ways she cannot remember and Kael cannot forget. Behind his violence is a man who has spent three centuries choosing to love her again, every time the world takes her from him. Now something ancient is waking, and it has decided they are both mistakes to correct. Elara is the reason the world keeps breaking. Stopping it might mean losing the one person who has never let her go.

I'm a half-baked forensic examiner whose only redeeming quality is the ability to understand animals. The crime scene is inside a lavish villa. The lady of the house lies dead on the floor with a blunt-force injury to the back of her head so deep that her bone is visible. The safe has been pried open, and a million dollars in cash has vanished without a trace. Clear shoe prints mark the backyard wall, evidence that someone has climbed over it. "This one's clear as day. This is a textbook robbery-homicide. The suspect is likely a young male, around six feet tall, has a prior theft record, and knows how to cover his tracks. Check the surveillance footage in the area and look into places where he might've moved the stolen cash." The director of the forensic science center, Egbert Woodward, has been in the profession for three decades and is a widely respected authority. The officers at the scene nod in unison and begin taking notes. I'm the only one who stares at the 30 flies circling the ceiling for a full 3 minutes before taking a step forward and piping up, "Dr. Woodward, this isn't a robbery-homicide. It's a crime of passion. The murderer is the victim's husband!"

Everyone feared the man behind the silver mask. Rumor said billionaire CEO Adonis Blackwood had hidden his ruined face from the world for years. When my father's company collapsed, I became the price of his salvation. One year of a contract marriage and three rules. I thought my mysterious husband was the greatest danger in my life, until his adoptive brother came back from abroad, looked at me and whispered, "Mona... you're alive?" Now a forgotten promise, a buried conspiracy, and a truth hidden for several years are pulling me toward a past someone is willing to kill to keep secret. The man I married isn't hiding scars. He's hiding the reason he chose me.