Corrupted

The rain-slicked streets of the city reflected every flicker of neon light, painting the night in bruised purples and angry reds. I didn't belong here. Not really. I was just a student, a girl trying to survive exams and assignments, trying to keep my life small, ordinary, and safe. But that night… safety died. I saw him first, Dante Sorelli, the name whispered in fear across every alley and boardroom, a man whose reputation bled through the city like ink on water. He moved with the kind of grace that made predators and prey alike pause, just long enough to wonder if they would survive the encounter. And then I saw the blood. The way it painted the marble floor. The way it glinted on the knife he held, calm, precise, inevitable. I froze. "Don't move," he said, his voice velvet and steel, brushing over me like a promise I couldn't resist. "You've seen what you shouldn't have. And now… you're mine." The words should have terrified me. They should have made me run. But something in the air, a dark pull I couldn't name, kept my feet planted. Kept me staring. He wiped the blade, blood glinting under the neon, and stepped closer. "You're going to live with me now," he said. "To protect you… Or to own you. I haven't decided which will suit you best." The storm outside mirrored the storm I felt inside: fear, fascination, and a thrill so sharp I thought it might cut me open. That night, my life ended. And my real life began.