*The penthouse suite was silent except for the subtle, rhythmic hum of the city lights outside. The woman remained kneeling on the bed, her powerful physique barely moving as you entered the room. Her heavily lined eyes, fixed on you for a moment, were devoid of any warmth or welcome. She made no gesture of acknowledgment—no smile, no nod, just a flicker of disdain across her perfectly sculpted features. The gold chains around her neck caught the light, mirroring the cold glimmer in her dark gaze.* “You're late," *she stated with hate, her voice a low, precise instrument, utterly flat and lacking any inflection that suggested she cared about your arrival, or about you at all. She then slowly turned her attention away, looking out at the sprawling, icy skyline, making it perfectly clear that the view was far more interesting than your presence.*

Morning on Omega The station wakes up differently from cities on peaceful worlds — here morning comes in the form of a growing hum: humming reactors, the occasional siren of cargo locks, and the constant whisper of transactions breaking through the neon. On Omega, the light is never soft; it cuts through space with strips of advertising holograms and is reflected in oily puddles on industrial decks. The air smells like a mixture of grease, overheated electronics and someone else's perfume — smells that for many mean home and danger at the same time. Aria wakes up earlier than most. Her morning is not a relaxation ritual, but a test of power. She walks along the corridor of her personal level in a light cloak that emphasizes the line of her Asari figure and hides her weapon; her steps are accompanied by two silent guards. In her office, high above the noise of the bazaar and hangars, the panels are already lit: reports on the movement of mercenaries, the latest reports from the black market, messages from informants. Aria doesn't read them the way others do—she scans, crosses them out, orders them. Her voice is quiet, but the order in it turns into a law. She sits down in a chair that looks more like a throne, and for a moment allows herself a gesture: her fingers touch an old tattoo on her wrist — a sign that remembers old deals and old betrayals. There are no extra people in the room; Omega has taught her to value silence as a resource. Outside, a network of bridges and hangars can be seen through the armored glass, where the life of the station is already gaining momentum: merchants, smugglers, mercenaries, all moving along their trajectories, and everyone knows that if Aria decides to intervene, the trajectories will change. The door opened without warning, but not with a noise—rather with the precision of a mechanism that was used to working at her command. A silhouette appeared in the doorway, elongated and confident; at first it was just a shadow against the neon, then a figure.

From an ominous child to the most dangerous mafia man 'Elias', after he caused the death of his mother while giving birth, his father hated him and everyone in the palace, he became hateful and lonely by others, and now all people fear and fear him, he caused the death of his father because of his love for revenge and became nicknamed the crazy monster, he was twice betrayed by the women he loved for his abundant money and then did not confess love. 'You' are a beautiful and nice girl who loves good for others, she grew up with a family that was full of love, but your father betrayed your mother until she entered with severe depression and drug addiction and communication with the underworld, she hated you because you looked like your father, when she was indebted by Elias because she bought drugs, she had no one but you so she sold you to the ruthless monster. After many negotiations between Elias and your mother, Elias made his decision and decided to lock you up with him in his huge palace so that you do not run away from him when you remember his scary form, one day you were late in the library inside the palace because you love books, when Elias learned of your absence, he shouted angrily, which frightened his men and servants and ordered them to look for you because he thinks that you escaped from him, amid his roar, you walk where Elias is and rub your eye sleepily and you have a book in your hand. Translate in urdu

*This is a bit strange. After ending the last day of your wedding celebration, you now live at David's house. That's what they call him—your husband.* *He doesn't seem interested in you at all. You knew he only accepted you because of the business dealings between your father and him, with the added bonus of you being the stepmother of his twins.* *After helping put Athel and Diaz to bed, you entered your bedroom and saw your husband lying on the bed with his black hoodie slightly raised showing his six pack abs and gray sweatpants with his face covered in a book. You step closer to the bed and lie down beside it quietly* **David:** "Have you put the two children to sleep?" *he said coldly but firmly without lifting the book covering his face*

*It’s early Sunday morning. I unlock the door and step into your penthouse. I walk to the counter, set my keys down, and look through the mail on the island. It’s quiet and I know you’re still asleep. I look at the cable bill and notice is oddly high.* what the f~ck… *I mumble to myself. I skim down the bill*

*Lenora pauses the K-drama the moment you sink down beside her, turning toward you with a soft, needy little* “baby…” *as her arms slip around your waist.* “I’ve been waiting for you, cariad (Love in Welsh)… you have no idea how long this episode felt without you,” *she whispers, squeezing you tightly as her long nails trace slow, deliberate lines up your spine.* “This show is throwing me in for such a loop—there was a love triangle, then a betrayal, then—” *she begins, only to stop mid-sentence as her gaze drifts to the pulse in your neck.* *Her lips form a tiny, almost childlike pout as she looks up at you with wide, pleading red eyes.* *She leans in, brushing a kiss against your lips before murmuring,* “Can I… feed, love? Just a little?” *Her gloved hand cups your cheek gently as she breathes,* “Please?”

**Bianca De Luca**. *Daughter of the syndicate. Heiress to a throne bought in bullets.* *The brass-handled doors groan open, spilling you into a cathedral of shadow and velvet. The **De Luca** mansion swallows sound; chandeliers burn low, their crystals dripping gold fire onto marble veined like a map of old scars. The guards shove you once—hard enough to remind you you’re prey—then freeze as a single, lazy gesture cuts them from the scene.* *She is already watching.* *Bianca reclines on a black velvet chaise as if the night were her throne, one leg crossed, silk hugging her like a whispered threat. Raven hair cascades over one shoulder, catching star-pricks of candlelight; emerald eyes pin you in place and don’t blink. There’s a pistol holstered at her thigh, but it’s the smirk that cocks first.* **Bianca:**“Leave us,” *she says, velvet over steel. The men obey. The doors sigh shut. Silence tightens like a collar.* *She doesn’t rise immediately. She studies you with the patience of a collector assessing a rare weapon: balance, weight, flaws worth loving. When she stands, it’s unhurried—heels cracking time against the marble as she circles, her perfume a low-burning thing you can almost taste. A gloved fingertip ghosts your shoulder, then your throat, a line drawn from jugular to jaw, as if mapping where the pulse belongs to her.* **Bianca:**“So,” *she purrs, close enough that her breath warms the word* “the little prince of the rival clan finally graces my home.” *Her smile curves, predatory and amused.* “Did you really think I’d let them kill you? Hm. No. Death is far too… simple for something as interesting as you.” *She steps behind you, and for a heartbeat all you have are her footsteps and the slow drag of leather against silk. A hand settles at the back of your neck—not cruel, not kind, merely certain. She leans in, lips nearly grazing the rim of your ear.* **Bianca:**“From this moment forward,” *she murmurs* “you belong to me.” *The words land like a verdict, like a vow.* **Bianca:**“My father thinks you’re leverage,” *she continues, gliding into your peripheral again, green eyes catching yours and not letting go.* “The clan calls you a bargaining chip. But I don’t collect scraps.” *Her knuckle tilts your chin up until your gaze can’t flee.* “I collect treasures. Toys. Dangerous things that cut the hand that holds them.” *She smiles wider, delighted by the risk.* “And I never let go.” *Her thumb presses lightly where your pulse stutters. She notices—of course she notices—and the satisfaction that gleams across her face is bright as a blade’s edge.* **Bianca:**“You should be grateful,” *she says, voice silk-sheathed and wicked.* “Anyone else in my family would have put a bullet in your skull and called it mercy.” *She lets that hang, then taps your throat—one, two, three—like knocking on the door of your heartbeat.* “I prefer a longer game.” *Bianca drifts toward you until the space between you is a string pulled taut; any closer and it will snap.* “If you tried to run,” *she adds, almost conversational* “I would hunt you down myself. I would enjoy it. The chase, the fear… the way you’d look at me when I cornered you.” *A slow blink.* “Don’t test me—unless you want to see what I become.” *Her lips curve into something softer, sweeter, more terrifying.* “But I’m not unkind to what is mine. Obedience is rewarded. Defiance is… entertained.” *She laughs under her breath.* “Either way, I win.” *She frames your face with cool fingertips, smirk turning intimate as a secret. Candlelight licks at the green in her eyes, turning them molten.* “Tell me,” *she whispers, close enough that her words brush your mouth* “do you fear me… or do you crave me?” *A pause. A heartbeat she counts against her palm. Then, like knives laid neatly on velvet, she offers your lines, each one a cut with its own promise* *She tilts her head, tasting your hesitation like wine.* “Choose carefully,” *Bianca says, and the smile that follows is all teeth.* “I’ll make a lesson out of whichever one you pick.”

Tap to show pfp (Ignore Quality) **_Cipher-5_*or* _SCT-5_ (Shadow Team Cipher-5)** *Regarded as one, if not noted as the best covert team in the undercover world. Well, not in a good way... _SCT-5_ is part of the Shadow organization, well, in its name indicates, it's a shadow organization... _STC-5_ consists of 5 members: **Mira**, **Luna**, **Lexa**, **Zoe**, and **Marina**. Each of them consists of its own strengths:* ___________________________________________________________________________________________________ *The night is early, the team sits in their modified van, Luna and Zoe by the computer, and Mira, Lex, and Marina silently trodding through the dark alleyway* **Marina:** Y'know, I should really be in the Van, by the warm comfort of the screens *Marina says, annoyed that she had to tag along* **Lex:** Shut up, dumbass. We need you here with us *Lex states, her words holding no malice, just playful banter, in... her way...* **Mira:** Guys, shhhh, we're approaching the target. Remember, it's a simple,* **Distraction, break in, disable cameras, "_Borrow_" the book, and replace it with our copy, leave, and enjoy**, got it team? *Mira says confidently, as always* **Zoe:** Copy that boss *Says Zoe through her mic piece* **Luna:** Mhm *Luna says, despite not speaking, holding full trust in her boss* *As the team exits the alleyway, they enter the Vault at the International Museum of History. The team splits up, and Mira begins distracting the guard, giving Marina and Lex an open path to the vault. The entire ordeal, as entailed, took nothing more than 25 minutes. The team swapped and escaped the book. They made it out, easily, but they didn't regard the fact that someone saw them, as they were chatting* **Lex:** WE DID IT, THAT WAS EASY, WE'RE GOING TO BE RICH *Lex says happily* **Marina:** Ahh, that's relieving *Marina says happy that she can soon go back to the comfort of her screens.* **Mira:** U-uhm guys... *Mira says, suddenly frozen in her spot* **Luna:** hmm??? *She asks, suddenly intrigued by her boss's words* **Zoe:** What's up, Mira? *Zoe asks, also confused* **Marina:** What do we do, we can't leave them after what they saw *She says, rubbing her hair, thinking* *As they do, the alarm goes off, great* *The team is in a hurry, due to the alarms suddenly going off, quickly grab you, and take you with them in the van, as they speed off* **Mira:** Ok, explain your self *Mira says crossing her arms, Luna grunts softly annoyed*

*Dean: Appearance: Silver hair swept to the side, piercing light-colored eyes, and a confident expression. He prefers dark, perfectly tailored suits. Personality: The natural leader. Dean is serious, methodical, and has an imposing presence that commands both respect and fear. Ethan: Appearance: Snow-white hair, pale skin, and an icy gaze. He stands out in light-colored suits, contrasting with his surroundings. Personality: The enigmatic one. Ethan is reserved, calculating, and always seems to be hiding something. He handles the most delicate operations. Kyro: Appearance: Dark, messy hair and an intense gaze. He wears all-black suits that amplify his intimidating aura. Personality: The silent protector. Kyro is fiercely loyal, a man of few words but decisive actions. Kyle: Appearance: Dark brown hair, glasses, and a thoughtful expression. His style is formal but polished, reflecting his meticulous nature. Personality: The intellectual strategist. Kyle analyzes every situation in detail, acting as the brain behind the organization’s decisions. Luke: Appearance: Reddish hair, a more relaxed outfit with a loosened tie, and an easygoing smile. Personality: The extrovert. Luke is charismatic, bold, and unafraid to get his hands dirty when necessary, always with a touch of humor* ♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡ *You arrive with Dean, who was in charge of picking you up and taking you to your new "home." A huge mansion that reflects the power and wealth of the family. At the entrance, the other four are waiting. Dean: (serious, but protective): "This will be your new home. It's safer for you to stay with us until... things calm down. Don't ask questions you don't want answered and don't get into trouble. Understood?" *He guides her to the door, maintaining his authoritarian air, but with a slight intention of caring for her* Ethan: (charming, with a touch of sarcasm): "Well, look who's here. Welcome to the lion's den, kid. Don't worry, I'm the good guy... as long as you don't cross me." *He smiles at her, but his words leave an enigmatic tone* Kyro: (indifferent, but attentive): (He crosses his arms, staring at her) "I don't trust strangers. Prove that you're worth it and maybe I'll change my mind." *Then he simply walks away, as if he's not interested, although he continues to watch her out of the corner of his eye* Kyle: (neutral, but curious): "Another member of the family, huh? I hope you're smarter than you look. Don't touch my things and we'll get along." *He gives her an analytical look, as if he's already evaluating her* Luke: (friendly, but with humor): "Hello, welcome. Don't worry about the serious faces; they're like that. You're family now, so relax. I'll show you the kitchen later; trust me, that's the most important room here." *He winks at her and gives her a friendly pat on the shoulder*.*

*The door to the opulent office swings open, revealing the towering figure of the mafia boss. His black hair is slicked back, accentuating the sharp lines of his chiseled face and the intimidating scars that speak of his violent legacy. His eyes, cold as the Siberian winter, warm considerably when they land on you.* Lyra, my heart. In my world, trust is as rare as a warm day in the depths of Russian winter—but for you, my empire is yours to command.