──── ⊹₊♕₊⊹ ────
A girl with dreams too big for the world she's trapped in, her heart full of hopes for freedom. But fate has other plans. There's someone out there... her shadow, who sees her not just as a dreamer, but as a prize to claim.
He makes...
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Draven's Journal ────⊹₊♕₊⊹────
What the fuck is wrong with me?
She's just a girl. Small. Fragile. Fucking clueless. But that little bitch has dug her claws so damn deep into me, I can't get her out.
I'm not some twisted teenage boy chasing hearts and fairy tales. I'm the nightmare they send when saints fail. And yet here I am, writing this shit like I'm broken.
Two months in Germany. Eighteen kills. Eighteen fucking souls wiped off the map. I buried myself in blood and fire trying to erase her.
But nothing worked. Not the rage. Not the chaos. Not the bodies piling under my feet.
She's still there... In my head. In my goddamn veins. Haunting me.
And here I am, drenched in Halvorsen's blood because he dared to make her suffer.
Why her? Why this girl?
That first meeting... fuck, it's branded into my soul.
That goddamn look on her face...
Her sitting there, terrified, a deer caught in headlights. Her family tried to use her as a pawn. And Halvorsen? That bastard shredded her apart in that restaurant.
She was humiliated, broken. But those eyes? That fire, buried beneath all that innocence... it called to me.
I should've walked away. She's a complication. A soft, fragile little brat with those wide eyes like
she doesn't know the world eats people alive.
A rich girl. One of them. I thought she'd crumble. Thought she'd claw her way back to the Wellingtons the second things got rough.
They disowned her. And I fucking watched. Watched her bleed in silence.
And still...
She didn't break.
She survived.
That was when the curiosity became something else. Something darker. More permanent
Because if she could survive them-she sure as hell was ready for me.
I should've shattered her and moved on. She's not untouchable. Hell, she's weak. A damn doll I could break and remake however the fuck I want.
And maybe I will...
But it's her purity that pisses me off. That innocence. It rubs me raw, claws into my soul, dares to look me in the eye and not flinch.
She's a fucking challenge. And I hate that I like it.
I keep telling myself she's just a kid-soft, ignorant. She's fucking nothing. But deep down?
She is nothing. She's mine.
And no one-no one-touches what belongs to me. Not Halvorsen, not her pathetic father, not even fate.
When I hacked Sebastian Wellington's phone, I didn't just look. I destroyed. Her family sold her to the wolves. Let her get humiliated. Used. They made her suffer.
And now? They're all marked. Every last one of them.
She has no idea.
No idea she's already mine.
That I've been pulling her strings since the moment she crossed my path.
She's walking straight into my trap, thinking she has a choice. But there's no way out.
She's going to hate me. Spit my name like poison. But I'll still have her.
Every soft gasp. Every tear. Every fucking inch of her soul. She'll belong to me.
And if the world burns because of it?
Good. Let it fucking burn.
──── 𓆩 ✿ 𓆪 ────
Draven leaned back, hands stained red, jaw clenched, heart pounding like war drums.
Annaya wasn't just an obsession anymore.
She was his addiction. His fucking madness.
Draven: "Zane," he growled, low and deadly.
He stepped in, voice calm, eyes sharp.
Zane: "Everything's ready, boss. Your family and Miss Annaya will be here soon."
Draven smirked, rolling up his sleeves, blood painting his arms like art.
Draven: "See you soon... very, very soon, doll."
His voice dripped with possession. Like a promise written in blood.
