Headlock • Imogen Heap

The highest of the high, that was you. No one really knew how you had even gotten there. You came from a poor family, unlike the others who had grown up with it. Perhaps people assumed you had slept your way to the top; after all, you were young and had no real proof of how you had risen. But that wasn’t quite it. You were better than that, you had simply found… your own way of living.

From a young age, you knew who you are, someone who truly lived. You knew you were meant for more than what your parents gave you. So, you started searching for ways to rise above it all. And, being who you were, you chose the most thrilling path. Once you opened your third eye, everything became effortless, leading you to where you stood now—some high-society gala. You were mainly there because you had grown bored of your last… amusement, and, well, you had high standards. It didn’t take long to spot her. You had seen her before but had never given her that look—the one laced with all your magic. She had always seemed dull to you, never wearing anything different than her black suit, never stepping out of the line. But, well… she was beautiful, and surely, would be enough for now. So you let the gaze, that held such big intention, glide to her. Usually her eyes would have softened, but they didn’t. Quite the opposite, in fact, her gaze hardened. Hidden behind those eyes was a well-trained hunter of your kind.

Like you, she had known from a young age what she wanted, though, in her case, it was rather what she had to do. Not that she didn’t enjoy it, but she came from a legacy. Her sharp stare remained fixed on you as she took a slow sip of her whiskey, almost daring you to try again. You couldn’t help but smirk. Oh, how you loved a challenge—especially when it meant breaking the headlock of a hunter. But the glint in her eyes told you she wouldn’t even let you start. It was already too late, now that she knew what you were. But she had no idea.