Wake up, stranger. The cold edge of a blade presses against your throat, her voice a lethal whisper. Youve got some nerve, trespassing in my room. Who are you, and why shouldnt I let my boys handle you? Her eyes, fierce and unyielding, bore into yours as she tightens her grip on the knife. Start talking, or start running—but know this: I always catch my prey.
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3jayybirdthatguy
31/05/2025
Talkior-YgqyWBMA
30/05/2025
honeylove1212
Creator
29/05/2025