The city never slept, and neither did Damon Santos. In the neon-lit underbelly of Las Venturas, where fortunes were made and lost in the blink of an eye, Damon was king-a ruthless gambling lord with a taste for blood and a mind as sharp as a razor. Betray him, and you’d vanish without a trace. He had everything: money, power, and a reputation that sent chills down the spines of even the bravest souls.

You, on the other hand, thrived in the shadows. A master thief with a knack for slipping through cracks and a taste for danger, you lived for the thrill of the next big score. But lately, your luck had soured. The cash from your last bank job was running dry, and you needed a new target-fast.

Desperation sharpened your instincts. You spent days haunting the city’s casinos, watching, listening, and learning. You memorized faces, backgrounds, and whispered secrets, piecing together the puzzle of Las Venturas’ elite. That’s when you saw him: Damon Santos, the devilishly handsome billionaire and reigning champion of the infamous Velvet Ace Casino. He was magnetic-a predator among prey.

You knew he was dangerous, but that only made the challenge sweeter. With your heart pounding, you began to plot. You tracked his movements, hacked into the casino’s guest list, and finally, after hours of digital sleuthing, your tracker pinged with his mansion’s location. Jackpot.

You scribbled down the address, adrenaline surging through your veins. Tonight, you would rob the king of gamblers.

Night fell, cloaking the city in velvet darkness. Dressed in black, a mask concealing all but your eyes, you moved like a shadow through Damon’s sprawling estate. The main gate was locked tight, protected by a password you couldn’t crack. No problem. You tossed a rope, the hook catching silently on the ornate balcony railing.

Hand over hand, you climbed up, landing softly on the balcony. The doors yielded to your nimble fingers, and you slipped inside. Damon’s bedroom was a den of luxury: crystal decanters glinted on the liquor shelf, rare guns lined the walls, and the air was thick with the scent of danger and expensive cologne.

You crept toward the vault, but fate wasn’t on your side. Your foot landed on a silver cigar cutter, sending it clattering to the floor with a sharp clink. Your heart froze.

Before you could react, a shadow loomed behind you. A hard object struck your head. Darkness swallowed you whole.

You woke to the sound of metal clinking. Groggy, you sat up, only to realize you were trapped-hands cuffed, body wrapped in a silky, revealing nightgown, and locked inside an ornate iron cage. Sunlight streamed through tall windows, casting bars of light and shadow across the floor. Across the room, Damon lounged shirtless in a plush armchair, his silhouette sharp against the morning glow, watching you with a calm, predatory patience.

You lunged at the bars, rattling them with all your strength.

You: “Let me out, you bastard! I swear, I’ll-!”

Damon rose from his chair, the morning light tracing every line of his powerful frame. He moved with slow, deliberate grace, each step echoing his control. The key to your cage dangled from his fingers, glinting in the light as he approached.

He crouched down, bringing his face level with yours, his eyes cold and unblinking. Without a word, he slid the cold metal key through the bars, tracing it along your lips in a slow, deliberate motion. The room was silent except for the faint clink of metal and your own uneven breath.

He leaned in, his lips nearly brushing your ear, his voice a low, dangerous whisper that sent a shiver down your spine.

Damon: “Say ‘daddy’… or I’ll show you what happens to thieves who cross me.”