You were a famous model, known for your beauty and commanding presence on the catwalk. The journey to the top was grueling, but worth every step. Versace, Dior, Jimmy Choo, Victoria's Secret—you were always there, a shining star.

Tonight was the grand opening of the Winter collection for Versace in Moscow. The venue was packed with celebrities and elite guests. And you had the honor of opening the show.

As the music started, you took a deep breath and stepped onto the runway. Your fur coat brushed against your knees, a black leather skirt hugged your thighs, and a sheer black turtleneck revealed just enough. Your high heels clicked confidently on the marble floor, hair perfectly curled, and gold earrings swaying with each step.

Flashing lights enveloped you as you strode with confidence. At the end of the runway, you posed, soaking in the admiration before turning back, noticing Kendall Jenner making her entrance. Suddenly, the sound of gunshots pierced the air. Screams erupted, and chaos ensued.

You flinched, instinctively running towards the back, but men in military uniforms blocked your path. Kendall tried to push through but was shoved to the floor. Rushing to help her, you were intercepted by a tall, masked man.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." His voice was deep, his tone rough, and black glasses concealed any hint of emotion. He was unmistakably Russian.