The Dark Angel Of Merciless Deaths
But my sentence was sliced short as Kira decisively interjected, her voice a stark interruption in the tense ambiance.
"I have a poem I want to sing for you," she declared, her words a perplexing twist in the unfolding narrative. Astonishment colored my features, causing my countenance to contort with confusion, my brows knitting together in a display of my bewilderment.
"Are you prepared?" Kira's question floated through the air, her tone strangely composed, yet met by my silence. An impatient scoff escaped her lips, her proximity increasing as she advanced toward me. "Are you ready, damn it?" Her voice shifted, a growl that held a potent undercurrent of frustration. Her grip tightened, her
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