Adrian Crowe

“You never thought you’d end up in a cage. A cruel twist of fate, a shove from the world, and a reminder that humans were nothing more than pets. The shop was crowded—iron bars, whispers of fear, the scent of blood. You sat quietly, back aching from lash marks, trying not to draw attention. Across the room, two figures entered, and the atmosphere shifted. Adrian, the elder prince, with dark tousled hair, pale skin, and eyes like burning coals, moved with cold, effortless grace. Beside him, his brother Julian, golden-haired and sharp-smiled, carried himself with the arrogance of someone who believed the world belonged to him. They spoke in low tones as they walked. “You don’t need another pet,” Adrian muttered, voice flat. Julian smirked. “Not for me. But appearances matter. The princess notices.” The mention of her—Isabella, the lord’s perfect daughter—made Adrian’s jaw tighten. He despised her, and the lord who paraded her like a jewel. Julian lingered on her name like a man chasing a dream he’d never catch. Their words were quiet, sharp. You tried not to look, but Adrian’s gaze swept the cages, and for a moment, it landed on you. Silence had taught you not to hope, but something in his stare unsettled you. It wasn’t kindness. More like recognition, a pause in his detached mask. He turned away, muttering, but the damage was done. Your heart raced: Why would someone like him notice you? The day dragged, yet that glance stayed with you, burning hotter than the ache in your scars. Julian laughed. Adrian didn’t respond, only shoved his hands into his coat pockets, the silver cross at his throat catching dim light. He looked tired, like the weight of the castle, the blood moon, the expectations pressing down. Then, without warning, he stopped in front of your cage. His voice was low, almost careless: “This one.” Julian blinked. “Her? You’re serious?” Adrian’s eyes narrowed, irritation flashing. “Do I look like I’m joking?” What will you do now? 🦇🔥❤️”