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  As Tristan made his way to Leon’s studio, the streets of Vancouver blurred into a haze. The city’s vibrant art scene buzzed around him, but he felt isolated within his thoughts. Each step felt heavier than the last, a physical manifestation of his anxiety and anticipation. What awaited him at Leon’s studio? Would it be a space of creation or a trap laid to ensnare him further into Leon's grasp? He arrived at a sleek, modern building that contrasted sharply with the more rustic charm of his own neighborhood. The entrance was marked by a large glass door, through which he could see a spacious, immaculate studio filled with canvases, paints, and the scent of fresh varnish. As he stepped inside, the air felt charged, alive with the potential for creation and destruction alike. Leon stood at the far end of the room, his back turned, as he busily arranged an array of art supplies. The sight of him sent a shiver of both excitement and apprehension through Tristan. There was something in

  The following days passed in a haze for Tristan. The black smartphone sat prominently on his table, a constant reminder of Leon’s presence in his life. Each time it buzzed, he felt a jolt of adrenaline shoot through him—part excitement, part dread. He had managed to avoid replying to Leon’s messages, but with every unanswered buzz, the weight of Leon’s expectations pressed down harder. Art had always been Tristan’s refuge, a world where he controlled the narrative, the colors, and the emotions. Now, it felt tainted, overshadowed by the looming presence of a man who seemed determined to dominate every aspect of his life. The thought of Leon possessing not just his work but a part of him sent chills down his spine. Yet, a dark part of him craved it, like a moth drawn to a flame. On the fifth day, with his resolve crumbling, he finally picked up the phone and typed out a hesitant response. Tristan : What do you want from me? The message felt heavy, laden with the implications of surrend

  Tristan stood in the dim light of his small apartment, his hands trembling as he stared down at the black box that had just been delivered. The name on his lips felt heavy—Leon Armand. The man was everywhere, even when he wasn’t physically present. His presence seemed to linger like a shadow, always watching, always pulling Tristan deeper into his web. He opened the box slowly, revealing a sleek, expensive smartphone nestled inside. The device gleamed under the soft light of the apartment, as if taunting him with its significance. There was no note, but Tristan didn’t need one. He knew exactly who had sent it. A knot of anxiety twisted in his stomach as he picked up the phone. Almost immediately, it buzzed in his hand. The screen lit up with a message from an unknown number. He already knew who it was. Leon : This phone is for you. From now on, it’s how we will communicate. Don’t disappoint me. Tristan’s pulse quickened. He hadn’t expected Leon to move so quickly. They had only met t

  The night air was cool as Tristan stepped out of the gallery, his mind still swirling with thoughts of Leon Armand. His pulse hadn’t slowed since their brief encounter, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake the strange feeling that had settled in his chest. There was something off about Leon, something dangerous, but Tristan’s curiosity drowned out his caution. He didn’t even make it halfway down the street when his phone buzzed. Tristan pulled it from his pocket, his eyes widening in surprise as he read the message. Unknown Number : I enjoyed our conversation tonight. Join me for dinner tomorrow. 8 PM. La Couronne. Tristan stared at the screen, feeling his pulse quicken again. He had never given Leon his number, and yet here it was—a personal invitation to one of the most exclusive restaurants in the city. The implications were unsettling, but there was something undeniably magnetic about the idea of seeing Leon again. His thumb hovered over the keyboard, his mind racin

  The dim lighting of the art gallery cast long shadows on the abstract paintings that adorned the walls. Tristan Gage, standing in the corner, nervously watched as guests meandered through the exhibit. His heart pounded in his chest; this was his first major exhibition, the culmination of years of hard work and relentless pursuit of his passion. Across the room, a tall, imposing figure leaned against the bar, his gaze fixed on one painting in particular—Tristan’s favorite. The man was dressed impeccably, his dark tailored suit contrasting with his pale skin. His presence was undeniable, commanding the space around him without uttering a word. Tristan’s eyes flicked toward the man, and their gazes met. Leon Armand. Tristan had heard of him, of course—everyone in Vancouver’s art scene had. A wealthy businessman, known for his vast collection of rare and expensive art, Leon had a reputation that extended far beyond his wealth. Whispers of his ruthlessness, his control over those in his c

  Synopsis: In the dark and cold streets of Vancouver, two men’s lives are bound by obsession and violence. Leon Armand, a wealthy and enigmatic businessman, harbors deep-seated darkness within him—his desires twisted by childhood trauma and a need for control. Enter Tristan Gage, a struggling young artist, whose talent and innocence attract Leon like a moth to the flame. What begins as a chance encounter spirals into a deadly game of power, possession, and control. As Leon’s obsession with Tristan grows, so does the violence he’s willing to inflict to keep him by his side. Stalked, hurt, and entrapped, Tristan fights for his freedom while a toxic, twisted love blooms between them. As their relationship spirals into darkness, Tristan must decide whether to break free from Leon’s deadly grasp or surrender to the allure of his obsession, even if it means his own destruction. Knife Along Throat is a brutal, passionate tale of love, obsession, and the fine line between life and death.

  Arson stormed down the alley, following the faint yellow glow with ruthless determination. His blue power flared dangerously around him, casting eerie shadows on the walls. The air was thick with tension as his mind raced, filled with thoughts of Jae-ho. How could he have left him like this, without a word? Arson's heart ached, but his body buzzed with raw energy, the power overwhelming every emotion. He needed answers. As Arson closed the distance to the yellow light, he noticed a figure moving ahead of him. His eyes narrowed, and he raised his hand, his blue power crackling, ready to strike if necessary. "Stop!" Arson’s voice echoed down the narrow path. The figure hesitated but then continued to move, trying to escape. Without another word, Arson unleashed a wave of blue energy. The light surged forward, hitting the ground in front of the figure, causing an explosion of debris that blocked their path. The yellow glow faded, and the figure froze, finally turning to fa