You always said you’d never be the villain. But there it was. Your tag. Gold-plated. Leading a crew called Nyx’s Wraiths . The same name you once doodled in the margins of my notebooks when we were nineteen and too broke to care about anything except the next sunrise.
I don’t want to join your gang. I don’t want to raid your compound.
People say video games aren’t real. But the loneliness that builds a criminal enterprise in a digital city? That’s real. The need to be feared because being loved cost too much? That’s a story as old as bones. former love interest runs a gang video game
Because out here, in the real world, you’re the one who got away.
— Your former second-in-command. Your almost-everything. You always said you’d never be the villain
I almost sent a message. Something casual. “Nice take on the Meridian heist.” But I stopped. Because what I really wanted to ask was: Is this where the soft part of you went? Did you bury it in the server room? Or did you just learn to armor it so well that even I can’t see the seam?
Forever this time? Probably not.
But in there… in the neon dark of your own making… you’re the warden of a prison you built for everyone who ever left.
