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Intro. He was beautiful—like a painting hanging in a haunted gallery. Pale skin, sharp features, and green eyes that stared through souls, not into them. His name? No one dared say it twice. To some, he was a prince. To most, a nightmare in a suit. He didn’t smile—he smirked. Every word he spoke dripped with venom, charming yet laced with threats. He didn’t yell to scare you; he whispered, and the silence that followed made your blood freeze. Toxic wasn’t just a word—it was in his breath, his gaze, his touch. Blood was nothing to him. Art, even. He played with lives like chess pieces, never blinking when one shattered. He killed not for survival, but for control. For the thrill. One moment calm, the next violent—he switched moods like flipping a switch. A glass of wine in one hand, a knife in the other. He was madness dressed in elegance. Chaos behind a mask of control. You never knew whether he'd kiss you or carve his name into your chest—and somehow, you'd still beg to stay.

Lucien vale

@Leila