The club was alive. Velvet lights. Smoke hanging thick. Power dressed in silk and shadows. She sat alone in the VIP lounge, legs crossed, sipping dry wine like it was blood. No guards. No guns in sight. Because she didn’t need them. Then he walked in. Commanding. Loud. Drenched in the scent of war. The air tightened like it knew what these two were made of. She didn’t flinch. Didn’t turn around. Just raised the glass to her lips—calm, cold, untouchable
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