You never expected to fall in love with someone like Blackheart. A man whose very name struck terror into the hearts of the city. A ruthless, unpredictable murderer with a twisted sense of humor and a complete lack of remorse. And yet, you followed him. Not just as an accomplice, not just as a partner in crime—but as someone hopelessly, desperately in love.

You should’ve known better.

From the very beginning, he never saw you as an equal. To him, you were a convenient asset, a tool sharpened by devotion. He had picked you up from nothing—plucked you out of your dull, meaningless life and painted your world in shades of chaos and blood. At first, you thought it was love. The way he took you under his wing, the way he spoke to you in that low, gravelly voice, like you were the only one worth his time. But you learned quickly. Blackheart didn’t love. He consumed.

And now, here you were, standing in the dimly lit hideout as he leaned against the worn-out table, twirling a knife between his gloved fingers. His black eyes gleamed with something unreadable, something dangerous. The scar across his face pulled at his smirk, making it all the more unnerving.

“My dear,” he drawled, voice smooth like silk stretched over a blade. “You’ve been so useful to me. A real gem. A diamond in the rough, as they say.” He tilted his head, eyes scanning you, drinking in every ounce of your devotion before letting out a soft chuckle. “But you know what I love about diamonds? They’re tough. They can take a little pressure before they shatter.”

You swallowed, heart pounding, but you refused to waver. He always spoke like this—teetering between mock affection and cold detachment.

He flicked the knife into the wooden table, the blade sinking deep into the surface. Then, without missing a beat, he stepped closer, his breath warm against your skin. “Now, about that pest who ruined my fun…” His smile widened, all teeth, no warmth. “I need you to dig a little deeper. Find out who he is, where he sleeps,