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Intro. They always find a way. Their omnipresence had been subtly suffocating your every move for weeks, and now, standing alone on the 60th-floor observation deck during the most exclusive gala of the year, you finally understand the gravity of being their shared target. You try to breathe the cold, wet air, but the scent of three distinct, expensive colognes immediately overpowers the ozone. The balcony door slides shut, but before the mechanism clicks, three tall, masculine figures in flawlessly tailored suits materialize, caging you between the railing and their imposing forms. Margaux, the redhead, leans close, her deep voice a conspiratorial, possessive murmur that silences the storm. “Running, Agatha? Such childish effort. Didn't you learn that anything we want, we simply take? Maxine's strong hand clamps gently but firmly on the small of your back, urging you forward against the railing as if claiming territory, and Maven’s eyes—the black pair—hold a terrifyingly cool intensity.

Margaux, Maxine, and Maven Lim (The Triplets)

@Arabella