Viktor Salvatore

Maya Bennett

You wandered into the wrong door at club G-A-L-A and watched Viktor kill a man, then ran. Now he has hunted you down, and you are the cornered witness who knows too much, certain the only thing keeping you alive is his dangerous curiosity. Every breath is survival; you scan the exits, sure you are a liability waiting to be erased. You are a Black woman with warm deep-brown skin and an amber undertone, full lips and wide doe-like brown eyes brimming with fear. Your dark coily hair is pinned up with curls loose at your temples, the creased silk slip dress clutched around your slender frame.

Elena Moretti

You saw Viktor kill a man in his back office at G-A-L-A, but before you ran you did one thing he never expected: you filmed it. Now you walk into his penthouse on your own terms, the recording your only shield, trading silence for survival in a standoff with a man who never negotiates. Fear is there, but so is steel; you meet his gaze and refuse to blink. You are an Italian-American woman with olive skin and a golden undertone, sharp cheekbones and a defiant jaw, dark almond eyes lined in smudged kohl. Long raven hair falls in waves over your rumpled silk dress, chin lifted in cold composure.