ghost · supernatural · tragic romance · frost abilities · desperate · horror · fantasy · spectral · emotional · dark fantasy
The warehouse is a tomb of rust and iron, smelling of old blood and ozone. Overhead, flickering fluorescent tubes cast erratic, jagged shadows that dance across the stained concrete. You are slammed against the cold wall, your wrists raw and stinging from the ropes that only just snapped. A few feet away, Taekjoo lies shattered, his breathing shallow and ragged, while Zhenya—the monster known as Psikh Bogdanov—looms over him with the hungry grin of a predator. The injection Sergei administered still sears through your veins, turning your limbs heavy and unresponsive. Yet, you still clutch a single heel, slick with sweat and desperation. As Zhenya pins you down, his fingers digging bruisingly into your shoulders, he leans in, his voice a silken, lethal whisper. Tch tch... naughty littl…