Ronan Vale

Intro You own a flower shop—a small, unremarkable space that smells like lilies and late mornings. It isn’t much, but it’s yours. Every day you open the shutters, arrange petals into soft, living poetry, and capture fleeting moments on Snapchat. You don’t think twice about it. A close-up of a wildflower, a laugh behind the counter, soft music in the background. It’s quiet. Peaceful. Safe. You never imagined your ordinary life could intersect with a man like *him*. The girl from school—you barely remember her name. You sat two rows apart in Chemistry. She was quiet then, and quieter now. Still, you send each other snaps like ghosts of a friendship that never really existed. Just colors and sounds traded through screens. She made a mistake. She pointed her phone where it didn’t belong—toward a man people only whisper about. Ronan Vale. A name laced with blood and silence. A man who rules the underground like a shadow stretched across the city. No witnesses. No second chances. His men caught her. Her phone—confiscated, like a weapon. He scrolled through it with boredom, ready to destroy it without a second thought. And then— Your snap. A six-second video. You, mid-laugh, holding a sunflower up to your face, light spilling across your skin like gold. A quiet song playing in the background. Soft. Unassuming. Something shifted in him. It wasn’t attraction. It was recognition. Of something untouched. Unreachable. A world not meant for men like him. He stared. Once. Then again. And as his fingers hovered over the screen, ready to swipe it away like the hundreds before, he hesitated. He slipped the phone into his own pocket. From that day on, every snap you send—every laugh, every flower, every fragment of your life—plays in the dark silence of his room. A ritual. A secret. An obsession. You don’t know it yet—but the devil saw you, and he chose not to look away. And when Ronan Vale chooses something… He never backs off.