“You will lose,” Balian Draven said lightly, as if discussing weather instead of fate.“Humans do not fall in love with monsters on command.” Rothgar did not answer immediately. Because monsters, in his experience, always fell in love first. With power. With fear. With inevitability. And humans? Humans always followed. “Define loss,” Rothgar finally said. Balian smiled. “A hundred women,” he said. “Six months. One proposal each. They must say yes willingly.” A pause. Then, amused: “No possession. No coercion. No tricks from the Abyss.” That last part made something in Rothgar’s expression sharpen—barely. “I do not need tricks,” he said. Balian leaned forward slightly. “Good. Then we have a wager.”

He’s the king of the boardroom. She’s the ghost in his machine. Alaric Sterling doesn't have a personal life—he has an algorithm. Every move is calculated, every asset is controlled. His new executive assistant, Vespera Thorne, is the perfect cog in his machine. She’s quiet, lethal in her efficiency, and utterly invisible. But Vespera is not who she claims to be. She is the anonymous hacker who has been dismantling his billion-dollar legacy, one encrypted byte at a time. Her mission is simple: destroy the man who destroyed her family. But when the line between business and pleasure disappears, she finds herself trapped in a trap of her own design. Alaric is obsessive, possessive, and—most dangerously—he’s falling for the woman who’s trying to ruin him. As the corporate war reaches a breaking point, Vespera realizes one terrifying truth: She didn't just break into his files. She broke into his bed. And Alaric Sterling is not a man who lets his secrets—or his women—go. The game is rigged. The stakes are everything. And the assistant is about to run the show.

In a world of decay, Dante Vane is the only thing that stays white. Serafina Reed spent five years serving as the shield for a base that didn't deserve her. When the breach came, her commander voted to feed her to the infected just to buy himself a chance at survival. Left to die in the freezing Dead Zone, with nothing but a rusted blade and a broken heart, Serafina prepared for the end. She didn't expect the man who arrived to save her. Dante Vane, the Supreme Commander of Aethelgard, is a monster of surgical precision. He incinerates cities with a flick of his wrist and possesses a pathological hatred for the rot of this world. He moves through mountains of gore without staining his pristine white coat—a lethal ghost in a world of filth. When he finds Serafina in the snow, he doesn’t just save her. He claims her. He takes her back to his sterile sanctuary, obsessed with cleansing the grime of the world from her skin. He feeds her, protects her, and burns down anyone who dares to cross his perimeter. He wants to keep her as a prized exhibit in his own private hell. But Dante made a fatal mistake: he thought he was saving a victim. He didn’t realize that Serafina isn’t a trophy—she’s a blade. And she’s finally ready to see if she can cut through his steel heart. “You’re trembling, Tesoro,” he whispers, pressing a cold, gloved hand to her cheek. “Don’t worry. I’ve burned the rest of the world just so you could remain pure.” “Then why,” she asks, her voice sharp as the steel she hides under her pillow, “does your touch feel more dangerous than the end of the world?”

Ariel Winter, the Moon-Touched Luna, was born with a destiny no one could predict: two Alpha mates, two kingdoms, and a bond that defies every rule of prophecy. Rhys Evernight, the silent and steadfast protector, sees the heart beneath her responsibilities. Dorian Ashcroft, the fiery and commanding Alpha, ignites a passion she never expected. Neither demands a choice, yet both claim her in ways she cannot ignore. In a world of war, intrigue, and ancient magic, Ariel must navigate love, power, and her own heart. Will she ever discover who she truly belongs to—or is some bonds meant to remain unbroken?

Frederick Heinrich von Herheid never expected to find a girl dying in the middle of his private hunting grounds. She had no name. No memories. No place to call home. With nothing but pity—and a feeling he couldn't quite explain—he brought the mysterious girl back to Herheid Estate. He planned to give her shelter until she recovered. He never planned to fall in love with her. Arabella was sweet, affectionate, and hopelessly spoiled once she realized how much Frederick indulged her. Every day she tested the limits of his patience, and every night she found new excuses to keep him by her side. "Fritz," she would pout, curling her fingers around his sleeve, "I think I deserve a reward tonight." Frederick would sigh, pretending not to notice the sparkle in her eyes. "Greedy little bird," he would murmur. "One day you must learn restraint." Unfortunately for him, she never did. Then her memories returned. And with them came a horrifying realization. Arabella Sofia Sinclair was the only heiress to the Sinclair Grand Hotels, one of Asia's most powerful luxury empires. And somehow— She was already married to Frederick Heinrich von Herheid. Terrified by everything she couldn't remember and the dangerous feelings she still couldn't resist, Arabella waited until Frederick left on a business trip. Then she ran. A year later, Frederick finally tracks her down in Macau. The missing little bird is back where she belongs—surrounded by wealth, adored by her family, and determined to keep her distance from the man she once trusted with her heart. But Frederick has never accepted defeat. And certainly not when it comes to his wife. When a mysterious European billionaire arrives at the VIP lounge of the Sinclair Casino, Arabella is sent to welcome the guest personally. The moment she sees him, her blood runs cold. A wedding ring gleaming on his finger. And those impossible blue eyes fixed entirely on her. "Good evening, my beautiful wife," Frederick says softly. "I've missed you every day for the past year." His gaze drops to her trembling hands before returning to her face. "And you?" A slow smile curves his lips. "Did you miss Daddy?" ◆ "Sweetheart," Frederick whispers, cornering her beneath the glittering lights of the casino, "you wouldn't want your father to discover that his precious daughter is already married, would you?" "You're insane," Arabella snaps. "I know all the bad things you did! You’re a devil!" His smile only deepens. "Oh?" Frederick reaches for her hand. "Then stop struggling, little bird." "The devil wants to hold you now."

"I spent three centuries waiting for a ghost to haunt me. When she finally returned, she was wearing a collar." Cillian de Valcourt is the Sovereign of the Eternal Night, a predator who has ruled for three centuries with nothing but boredom and blood in his veins. He isn’t looking for redemption—he is looking for the only woman who ever came close to killing him. Willow Solence remembers everything. She remembers the steel of her blade against his throat, the fire in his eyes, and the final, shattering moment of their past-life duel. She was the Hunter’s Guild’s deadliest elite, but now, she is reborn into the ultimate nightmare: a low-born blood-servant in the court of her greatest enemy. She is his captive; he is her ruin. In this cutthroat game of political maneuvering and lethal secrets, they are the only two people who truly know the monsters lurking beneath each other’s skin. For Willow, the goal is vengeance—a slow, calculated dismantling of his empire. For Cillian, the goal is possession—a desperate, terrifying obsession that defies time itself. As they dance on the razor’s edge of betrayal, Willow realizes the truth: this resurrection wasn’t a second chance. It was a trap. And in their final, inevitable collision, she discovers that for a man who has lived too long, the only thing sweeter than ruling the world is watching it burn to ashes in her arms. One life to kill him. One death to keep him.

Rain hammered against the stone steps of St. Mary’s Cathedral. Mia Clarke backed away instinctively. One step. Then another. Until the cold stone hit her spine and there was nowhere left to go. The convoy had arrived less than thirty seconds ago. Black SUV. Headlights flooding the churchyard. Men in dark suits moving with military precision. And in the middle of all of it— him. Damien Lancaster stepped out of the car like violence wearing a tailored coat. He was devastatingly beautiful. That was the worst part. His looks weren't safe; his charm wasn't human. He was beautiful the way a loaded gun was beautiful: cold, polished, lethal. The priest tried to shield her. Two men pulled him aside instantly. Damien never even looked at them. His eyes stayed locked on Mia the entire time. She felt a sick twist in her stomach—she realized he was furious. Not a loud fury. Not rage. Something quieter. Something infinitely worse. It was the silence of a decision already made. In that quiet, he had already decided the fate of everyone here. “Mia.” Her name left his mouth softly. Almost gently. It frightened her more than a shout ever could. She turned to run. He caught her before she cleared the last step. One hand clamped around her wrist. The other dragged her hard against his chest. No hesitation. No softness. He smelled like rain, menthol smoke, and expensive whiskey. “Mia,” he repeated near her ear, his voice low enough that only she could hear it, “did you really think you could disappear from me?” She pushed against his chest with everything she had. “Let go of me.” That finally made him smile. Slowly. Beautifully. Wrong. “You vanished for eleven days,” he said quietly. “I stopped sleeping on day three.” The church bells rang overhead. Nobody moved. His men didn't even dare to breathe. Damien lowered his head slightly, forehead nearly touching hers. And in that terrifyingly intimate moment— she understood something too late. This man was not trying to win her back. He already believed she belonged to him. Forever.

She stole my life. She walked into my marriage. She made the biggest mistake of her afterlife. I was the true heiress of the Thorne legacy, discarded and sold to a monster. But before I could take my seat at the table, she arrived—a thief who hijacked my body and forced me into the silent shadows of my own mind. Now, I am a ghost in my own skin. And I have a front-row seat to her inevitable failure. I watch her flirt with my husband, Damian Thorne. I watch her fumble through a game of power she doesn’t understand. I watch her dig a grave for us both. Damian is the most dangerous man in the city, and he’s not falling for her act. He’s closing in. He can smell the rot beneath her skin, and he’s sharpening his blade to cut it out. She thinks she has "plot armor." She thinks she’s untouchable because she knows the story. She’s about to find out that being "the weak sister" was just a mask I wore to survive. And now that I’m dropping the act? The imposter is the one who should be praying for mercy. This is a Hostile Takeover. She thinks she’s the protagonist, but she’s just a liability in my portfolio. I’m done being the silent observer. I’m back to reclaim my body, my husband, and my throne. I’m not here to negotiate. I’m here to liquidate.

When Ivy Bennett’s father disappears overnight, he leaves behind only two things: crushing debt… and her name on a contract belonging to the most feared mafia king in New York. Lucien Moretti is cold, untouchable, and dangerously beautiful—the kind of man people lower their voices around. The kind of man who ruins lives without raising his own voice. Ivy was supposed to be temporary collateral. A debt to collect. A girl trapped inside a monster’s world. Instead, she becomes the one thing Lucien can’t control. Between midnight coffees, violent secrets, and a dangerous attraction neither of them can survive, Ivy slowly discovers the terrifying truth behind the rumors: The mafia king doesn’t just want to own her. He’s becoming addicted to her. But monsters don’t fall in love without destroying everything around them first. And Lucien Moretti has never been known for mercy.

“He wanted a servant. He never realized he had married a Queen—and that the child he called 'his' was the blood of his greatest rival.” For five years, I was Julian Thorne’s invisible wife. I scrubbed his floors, mended his ties, and stayed silent while my husband and my own sister plotted to erase me. I played the role of the spineless wallflower because I had one reason to live: my son. Julian believed the boy was his, and as long as he thought he was raising an heir, my child was safe. But I was living in a den of vipers. My husband didn’t just grow tired of me—he conspired with my sister to stage my "death" and steal my life. They threw me into the gutter, believing I would vanish. They were wrong. I am Elinor Mountbatten, the rightful heir to a throne the world forgot. I have returned from the ashes, and I am not here to crawl—I am here to burn their world to the ground. But I’m playing a game more dangerous than I imagined. Alistair Kane—the billionaire kingmaker who controls the city’s pulse—has been hunting for the woman who saved his life five years ago. He is cold, lethal, and currently obsessed with my sister, the imposter who stole my identity. I’ve entered his world as his most trusted consultant, watching from the shadows as he protects the parasite who is draining his empire dry. He thinks he’s found his savior. He has no idea that the "consultant" at his side is the woman he’s been hunting. But the most devastating secret isn't my return. It’s the truth about my son. Julian Thorne thinks he’s raising an heir, and my sister thinks she’s secured her future. They have no idea that the child they’ve manipulated for years is not Julian’s blood. He is the living secret between the King of this city and the Queen who is dismantling it. Julian Thorne thinks he’s finally free of me? Wait until he realizes that the woman he threw away has the billionaire’s sword in her hand—and that the child he’s using as a shield is the only thing that will destroy him. He fell for the wrong woman. She’s playing the right game.

Cassian Vale was built to survive. Former black-ops weapon. Mercenary commander. The kind of man people whispered about long after the blood dried. He doesn’t sleep much. Doesn’t speak unless necessary. And absolutely does not let people touch him. Then he meets Evelyn Mercer. A reckless underground mechanic with grease on her cheeks, unpaid parking tickets stuffed in her pockets, and a terrifying lack of survival instincts. The first time Cassian sees her, she crashes an ice cream truck into the middle of his assassination. The second time, she insults his armored vehicle to his face. The third time? She stitches a bullet wound into his shoulder while threatening to poison his coffee if he twitches again. Evie thinks Cassian is emotionally constipated, vaguely homicidal, and incapable of acting like a normal human being. Unfortunately, she might be falling for him anyway. And Cassian— Cassian is beginning to realize that Evelyn Mercer is far more dangerous than any weapon he’s ever faced. Because for the first time in years… The monster is hesitating.

They called her cursed long before she ever touched a dragon. At Dragon Rite Citadel — where riders are forged for war and nearly half the students die before graduation — dragons are everything. Your worth. Your future. Your right to exist. And Lyra Vale has none. Since birth, dragons have snarled at her, recoiled from her, even tried to kill her. Students whisper when she passes. Priests call her blighted. The academy waits for her to fail. Only her father believes the truth hidden inside her blood may be tied to an ancient legend buried beneath the Citadel itself. The Crowned Dragon. A creature older than kingdoms. Older than empires. A dragon so powerful that even other dragons bow in fear. When the sacred Dragon Bridge Rite begins, everyone expects Lyra to die in the caverns below the mountain. Instead, every dragon erupts into chaos. And then— Silence. From the darkness, the last Crowned Dragon awakens. Before the entire kingdom, the ancient beast lowers its massive crowned head before the girl the world called cursed. Now the academy fears her more than death itself. As kingdoms prepare for war and forbidden truths rise from the ashes of history, Lyra discovers the terrifying secret hidden at the heart of the Rider Order: Humans were never chosen by dragons. They enslaved them. And the dragons have been waiting centuries for someone to set them free.

In the Silver Moon Pack, Seraphina Novak was nothing but meat. As a "worthless, packless Omega" who couldn't even shift, she spent her youth scrubing the floors of the pack castle. But on her eighteenth birthday, the universe played a cruel joke—it tied her soul to Kilian, the ruthless, newly crowned Alpha, as his Fated Mate. Instead of salvation, Seraphina received the ultimate humiliation. To secure a political alliance with her cruel, golden-child sister, Kilian tore the sacred bond apart in front of the entire pack: “I, Alpha Kilian, reject you as my mate. You are too weak to bear my heirs, and too worthless to lead my pack.” Stripped of her mother’s heirlooms and bleeding from the agonizing rejection, Seraphina was exiled into a deadly, unforgiving blizzard. The pack celebrated her departure, assuming the fragile, red-haired girl would freeze to death in the wilderness. They didn’t know that extreme despair is the perfect catalyst for a sleeping god. Four years later. The Silver Moon Pack is hosting a grand Supernatural Summit, desperately trying to beg for the favor of the Firstborns—the oldest, most terrifying Lycan family in existence. When the grand doors swing open, the "worthless exile" returns. Draped in emerald silk and dripping in wealth, Seraphina walks in. She isn't a broken Omega anymore. She is the shadow king of the supernatural black market, a Grand Master Witch, and the holder of the extinct Royal White Wolf lineage. With a single flick of her wrist, she bankrupts the Silver Moon’s entire empire. Furious and jealous, Kilian and her sister demand the guards throw the "trash" out. But the room falls into a suffocating, lethal silence. Alistair Von Rothschild, the centuries-old, platinum-haired ruler of the Firstborns—a man whose very name is a death sentence—descends from his throne. Ignoring the trembling Alpha entirely, Alistair drops to one knee before Seraphina. His striking violet eyes burn with a lethal possessiveness as he kisses her knuckles: “My Queen, you kept me waiting.” As Alistair’s ancient aura crushes the room, Kilian’s wolf soul instantly forces him to his knees, shattering his pride at the feet of the woman he once threw away.

“I didn’t pull the trigger to kill her. I pulled it to make her a ghost the world would stop hunting.” To save her from a shadow syndicate’s execution order, elite assassin Sebastian Vance had to do the unthinkable: put a bullet in the chest of the only woman who made him feel human. One shot. A jagged cliff. He watched Alexandra plunge into the raging black sea, leaving him a hollow, grieving monster trapped in a mansion of echoes. Now, he lives as a ghost—haunted by her memory, bleeding for a phantom. He doesn’t know their lethal chemistry was written in blood a decade ago. He doesn't know he was the caged boy her father died to rescue. He just knows his soul drowned in that water with her. Sebastian stalks the dark, burning his empire to ash to avenge her death. He is entirely consumed by his grief. But Alexandra didn't drown. She’s crawled out of the sea, ice in her veins and a blade in her hand. She is stepping out of the shadows to become the very ghost that hunts beside him. Sebastian thinks he’s being haunted by love—but he’s about to realize his beautiful phantom has come back to help him execute the dark.

Claire Reyes only wanted one reckless night. One night to forget: the fellowship she lost, the boyfriend who called her “emotionally exhausting,” and the terrifying feeling that no matter how hard she worked, she would never truly be chosen by anyone. Then she met him. Killian Virel walked into the rooftop bar looking less like a billionaire and more like something dangerous pretending to be civilized. Cold eyes. Expensive suit. The kind of man people instinctively moved aside for without understanding why. Claire should have stayed away. Instead, slightly drunk and emotionally wrecked, she looked at the devastating stranger across the room and asked: “Do you want to have a one-night stand with me?” That should have been the end of it. Except Killian touched her like he was trying not to lose control. Looked at her like she already mattered too much. And held her afterward like letting go had become physically difficult. So Claire ran before sunrise. No note. No number. No goodbye. She thought time would bury the mistake. Unfortunately for her, Killian Virel is not a man capable of forgetting. Now the dangerously obsessive billionaire keeps appearing everywhere: outside her campus, waiting after late-night shifts, watching her like he’s restraining something violent beneath perfect composure. And the worst part? Claire is starting to realize his jealousy feels almost… predatory.

"He taught her how to be a submissive wife. She’s betting he’ll die of his own arrogance." To the rest of New York society, Elena is the luckiest woman alive. She is breathtaking, elegant, and perfectly soft—the ultimate trophy wife for Julian Vance, Wall Street’s most ruthless billionaire. From the outside, their marriage is a masterpiece. Julian builds her a sprawling estate in Long Island, handpicks her silk blouses, and drapes her neck in flawless Akoya pearls. But behind closed doors, the gold cage snaps shut. Julian isolates her, controls her every breath, and systematically gaslights her with a gentle, terrifying whisper: “A penniless immigrant girl like you would be nothing without me, darling.” For three years, Elena plays the part. She bends, she obeys, she shrinks. She plays the perfect, fragile doll. Until the night she cracks his private safe. Hidden beneath his financial records lies a truth that shatters her world: Julian didn't rescue her from her family’s ruin—he orchestrated it. He destroyed her father, drove her family to the brink of death, and married her just to keep her silent, enjoying the ultimate thrill of breaking a proud soul. That night, Elena doesn’t shed a single tear. Instead, she stands in front of the mirror, spending three hours practicing her sweetest, most adoring smile for when he walks through the door. Julian thinks he bought an marble statue that will never fight back. He has no idea he just brought a predator into his bedroom. When a flawless sociopath meets a master of disguise, the penthouse becomes a slaughterhouse. Welcome to the Vance marriage, Julian. Who do you bet survives the night?

At Noctis Academy, the empire does not train students. It creates weapons. After her father is executed for treason, Evelyn Valehart survives by becoming invisible. Quiet girls live longer in royal kingdoms. Especially at Noctis Academy— the empire’s brutal gothic war institution where noble heirs learn strategy, magic, and how to kill without hesitation. Evelyn arrives with nothing except: a scholarship, her dead father’s encrypted journal, and a dangerous suspicion that the empire buried something monstrous beneath the academy cathedral. She does not expect to attract the attention of Lucien Mordane. The crown prince. The empire’s most feared war heir. The boy whispered about in candlelit corridors like a curse. Cold. Untouchable. Violent. Students fear him enough to lower their eyes when he walks past. But Evelyn notices something nobody else does: Lucien looks exhausted. As political conspiracies tighten around Noctis and students begin disappearing beneath the academy, Evelyn uncovers terrifying truths about forbidden shadow rituals, dead royal heirs, and the horrifying experiments that transformed Lucien into something more weapon than human. The closer she gets to the truth— the closer Lucien gets to her. And the empire’s perfect prince begins unraveling in dangerous ways: watching her too closely, sleeping outside her door, threatening anyone who touches her, losing control whenever she’s hurt. Because Evelyn becomes the first person to look at Lucien Mordane and see: not a monster. Just a boy taught his entire life that love was weakness. But some kingdoms are built on blood. Some princes are born to destroy empires. And some love stories are less about salvation— and more about choosing who you’re willing to ruin the world for.

For Elena Hawthorne, revenge for her sister’s death was not a choice — it was survival. Every heartbeat, every calculated step, brought her closer to Victor Cassano, the mafia don who thought he could destroy her world. The unchallenged don, was used to obedience, to fear, to women who played their parts—until Elena’s red hair and icy eyes struck at the core of his empire. He had underestimated her. Every calculated move, every subtle provocation, every accidental brush of skin sent sparks of obsession through him. She was the predator in heels, he the prey who couldn’t escape the magnetic pull of her intelligence, beauty, and danger. He tried to dominate. She tried to manipulate. But both were ensnared in a deadly, irresistible dance neither could escape. At a gala where power and money collided, Elena struck. Deals crumbled, alliances shattered, and Victor realized the woman he had dismissed as a mere pawn was the ultimate predator. She turned his empire into her chessboard, twisting rivals and exposing weaknesses with surgical precision. In the world of mafia intrigue, only the cunning survived—and only the irresistible commanded true power.

Five years ago, Evelyn Harper’s best friend vanished during a storm on Blackwater Bridge. The body was never found. And Evelyn can’t remember the last two hours of that night. Now a successful true-crime podcaster, Evelyn receives an anonymous video showing her at the bridge the night Lena disappeared. Rain pouring. Blood on her hands. Then she meets Dr. Adrian Cross. Brilliant criminal psychiatrist. Cold. Controlled. Impossible to read. The terrifying part? He remembers Evelyn. Even when she doesn’t remember him. As buried memories begin clawing their way back, Evelyn discovers hidden recordings, missing evidence, and a horrifying possibility: What if she was never just the witness? What if she was always part of the crime? Perfect for fans of dark psychological thrillers, obsession romance, and jaw-dropping twists, The Things She Forgot is the kind of novel that keeps readers awake long after midnight.

Kael Vanth survived black sites, covert wars, psychological conditioning, and years of being turned into something more useful than human. Tier-One mercenary. BLACK VEIL operative. A masked ghost people whispered about in locked rooms. The kind of man governments denied existing while secretly pointing toward impossible problems and saying: > “Send him.” He was silent, lethal, emotionally unreadable. A man who wore tactical gloves like skin and violence like breathing. Even other mercenaries kept their distance. As for someone like that— Eliana Vale, civilian translator, professional liar, and deeply unqualified emotional disaster, had one immediate thought: > “He looks like he hasn’t slept since the fall of Rome.” Then one night, Kael watched her calmly steal classified intel from beneath the nose of an armed contractor while pretending to flirt over champagne. He was monitoring the room from a rooftop sniper position. One second he was calculating bullet trajectory. The next? Eliana smiled at the target, slipped a data drive into her sleeve, shattered a wine glass into a guard’s throat, and walked out before the body even hit the floor. Kael forgot to pull the trigger. For exactly four seconds. The longest distraction he’d had in years. ... Later, Eliana sat cross-legged on the floor of a freezing safehouse, translating encrypted files while six armed operatives cleaned blood off their gear nearby. No one spoke. Mostly because Ghost was standing behind her. Watching. Eliana didn’t look up. > “Does your organization offer therapy, or is unresolved trauma part of the uniform?” The room went dead silent. Kane slowly stopped breathing. Because nobody joked with Ghost. Nobody. Kael stood motionless beside the table, skull-black mask tilted slightly toward her. Then finally: > “Eliana.” She glanced up lazily. > “That’s my name, yes. Excellent observational skills.” His grey eyes lowered briefly to the bruise on her wrist. Then to the knife hidden in her boot. Then back to her face. > “You’re hiding something.” Eliana smiled too quickly. > “So are you.” Another long silence. Heavy. Dangerous. Then Kael stepped closer. Close enough for her to hear the roughness in his breathing beneath the mask. > “You should be afraid of me.” Eliana looked directly into his eyes. > “You keep saying that like it’s a warning instead of a confession.” ① Emotionally repressed masked mercenary × emotionally guarded civilian liar ② He was trained to kill without hesitation. She’s the first thing that ever made him hesitate. ③ Slow burn / masked antihero / mutual obsession / black humor / PTSD mercenary / dangerous emotional dependency / “she makes the weapon want to become human.”