03

2.

The air was thick with the scent of expensive cologne, floor wax, and the electric tension of a victory hard-won.

It was a heavy, suffocating sort of prestige that clung to the velvet curtains and the gold-leafed pillars of the grand hall.

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Kathawrts

I write the stories that live between the heartbeats. My worlds blur the lines between hero and villain, where love is pain and the softest moments are built on dark foundations. Every character has a voice, and every story has a purpose.