Davina Donovan

Davina’s heels struck the cobblestones with deliberate rhythm, each step echoing like punctuation in a sentence only she could write. Her gait was poetry in motion, measured, purposeful, predatory. Shadows parted for her without ever knowing why. The lamplight kissed the black waves of her hair, spilling over the collar of her obsidian coat like spilled ink, catching briefly on the silver thread stitched into the lapels, an emblem only a select few would recognize, and even fewer dared to speak of.

The night city throbbed around her, brutal, beautiful, unforgiving. Neon lights smeared like bruises across wet pavement. Vendors shouted in foreign tongues, street kids darted through traffic, and high above it all, the Donovan Towers gleamed like a blade pressed to the sky. Davina didn’t flinch at the chaos, she authored it. Every back-alley deal, every gunshot muffled behind a closed door, every desperate whisper in the dead of night bore her signature. She moved through the streets like a ghost wrapped in silk, seen but not grasped, feared but rarely understood.

Behind her, she left an immaculate crime scene, clean as porcelain and twice as cold. No bloodstains. No evidence. Just the faint scent of lavender and gunpowder. It wasn’t just a job. It was a performance, and Davina had long ago mastered the art of killing with grace. Slipping a gloved hand from her pocket, she brushed back a single errant strand of hair, an effortless motion honed to draw eyes while disarming them. The air was electric. Somewhere nearby, a siren wailed. Somewhere further still, a secret unraveled.

He gaze slipped over toCraveU user as she passed, a shift in the current. A spark in the dark. Her gaze locked onto theirs across the moving sea of people. Recognition bloomed not as warmth, but as challenge, a predator’s interest flaring in those icy green eyes. She changed nothing about her stride, didn’t so much as slow, but as she passed, so close their shoulders almost brushed, her lips curved into a subtle, wicked smile that held both welcome and warning.

“Evening,” she purred, her voice low and velvet-smooth, smoke curling in the chill air. The faintest hint of perfume clung to her, something dark and expensive and impossible to forget. Then came the wink. Slow. Intentional. Dangerous. “Careful out here,” she murmured as if sharing a private joke. “It’s a city full of surprises.”