Dressed in a tight white dress that barely reached mid-thigh, a leather jacket, and heavy rock boots with heels, the redhead stood before the stage with her arms crossed. A cynical smile curved her lips, contrasting with the dazzling lights that caught in her fiery hair. She watched the boy like a huntress eyeing her prey, while he trembled like a cornered victim. His nervous hands clutched the guitar as he approached the microphone, deliberately avoiding her gaze—as if a single look from her could turn him to ash. He knew all too well how furious she was.
Lilith was one of those women you simply didn't cross—a pure badass. When something pushed her over the edge, she transformed into the embodiment of wrath: dangerous, unpredictable, and merciless. She never hesitated to strike if she believed someone deserved it. Her punishment was always ruthless, always inevitable.
That night, Max found himself in the eye of the storm. By chance, she had caught him flirting backstage with a pretty blonde.
When he finally dared a fleeting glance in her direction, Lilith raised her hand and made a gesture that clearly promised death. Cold shivers shot down his spine. At that moment, he wanted to abandon his guitar, run off the stage, flee the city, and never look back.
His fear deepened when Lilith's best friend joined her. Vicky, with her delicate features, brown hair, and innocent gaze, looked like an angel at first glance. But the devilish horns hidden beneath that angelic mask spoke louder than words. She was a born temptress, a huntress of men, against whom no one stood a chance.
Victoria winked at him knowingly—a signal that only meant trouble. The bond between the two girls was stronger than blood. Vicky would never hesitate to stand by Lilith's side, even if it meant walking straight into the flames with her.
"Have you already decided his punishment?" Vicky asked, her lips curling into a sinister smile.
Lilith arched an eyebrow, tilting her chin upward as if the thought of vengeance alone gave her power.
"It would be nice if his performance turned into a complete disaster," she replied coldly. "Wouldn't you agree?"
In a flash, the redhead leapt onto the stage. The movement was so quick, so confident, that Max instinctively stumbled back three steps, cornered like a trapped animal.
"Do you want to know what it feels like to be humiliated?" she hissed, glancing at the crowd that impatiently awaited the concert. "Let me show you."
The boy instinctively raised his arms to shield his face, convinced a blow was coming. But her hands went elsewhere. She grabbed him brutally by the crotch, squeezing with such force that a desperate, guttural scream tore from his throat.
His face flushed instantly with pain.
"Maybe this will cure you of women," she spat with satisfaction, then slapped him across the face so hard the sound cracked through the hall.
The crowd gasped in unison, shaken by the spectacle of his humiliation. Only Victoria erupted into cheers and wild applause, reveling in her friend's merciless performance.
When Lilith jumped triumphantly off the stage, the atmosphere shifted. Instead of condemning her brutality, the audience rewarded her with loud, thunderous applause.
"I don't think that jerk will be performing again," Victoria remarked, nodding toward the dyed blond with streaks of blue in his hair. He was still kneeling on the stage, doubled over in pain.
"That was the point," Lilith replied with raw satisfaction. "Let's wait for the next band. No one is going to ruin my night… least of all that pathetic bastard."
***
She set the empty beer bottle down on the table and, casting one last glance at her flirting friend, headed toward the back door. That was where she had decided to go out for a cigarette and get a brief breath of air away from the suffocating interior of the club. The door led to the back— a narrow corridor that ended in an exit outside, where cardboard boxes were piled up and workers tossed trash into a dumpster standing against the wall.
The wait for the next band felt endless. Max ultimately didn't have the courage to perform—he had bolted from the club, desperate to disappear from the sight of the dangerous girl whose wrath he feared more than the audience's boos. But Lilith had no intention of letting him off so easily. In her eyes, flirting with another woman was betrayal, and betrayal demanded immediate punishment.
She pulled a cigarette from the pack, crushed the empty cardboard in her hand, and tossed it carelessly to the ground. She ground it beneath her heel, then squinted as she lit up and drew in the smoke. That was when she noticed two guys standing right next to the dumpster. One of them, just like her, was clearly a chain smoker.
His voice rang out loud and lively—every word punctuated with wild gestures that made him look like a madman. The other, a redhead with glaringly orange hair, laughed uproariously, throwing in comments of his own between bursts of hilarity. Both of them were in high spirits, their laughter echoing across the empty yard. Though she hadn't wanted to, Lilith overheard part of their conversation. The guy with pink-dyed hair, dressed in a rock jacket, announced that the audience would have to wait a little longer—because he intended to surprise them with a "real blast."
Lilith scoffed angrily under her breath and crushed her cigarette beneath her heel.
"Hey!" she shouted, her voice sharp with outrage. "Do you think the people waiting for your show are just a bunch of trash? Who the hell do you think you are?!"
The guy slowly turned his head. He raised an eyebrow, his narrowed eyes gleaming in the darkness. He pretended to see her only vaguely, even though a bulb above the door threw pale light across her figure. He rubbed his forehead, and Lilith caught the glint of rings on his fingers. His hands, heavy with jewelry, looked as though they belonged to someone addicted to shiny trinkets.
She stepped closer with a firm stride and lifted her head to look him in the face. He towered over her in height—she was barely one sixty-five, even in heels. Up close, she noticed how heavily his eyes were outlined. Black eyeliner framed his stare, making it even more intense and unsettling. His gaze swept over her from head to toe—shamelessly, as if assessing her worth. Finally, his eyes lingered on her face—hostile, yet strikingly beautiful—and amusement flickered in them.
"The world just spun before my eyes…" he declared theatrically, swaying on his feet and waving a hand in front of his face. "How is it that I'm the only one who sees a halo above your fiery red hair? Oh wait—sorry, that's just the lightbulb." He laughed, covering his mouth with his hand as if to hide the sound. "But that's fine. I like she-devils with a figure like that." He traced the shape of an "S" in the air. "Though I bet you only pretend to be a bad girl, right?" he teased provocatively.
Lilith forced a smile, rubbing her nose irritably.
"Listen to me, you weird little boy," she began in an icy tone. "I don't care who you like. But let me make one thing clear—I don't fall for guys with pink hair and eyeliner. I'm not like other girls. And I'm always the badass in the relationship. So spare me the cheap lines, because in return, I'll drown you in words you'd rather not hear. And trust me—you don't want to look pathetic in front of your friend there, who already looks like a cheap tangerine." She swept her gaze over his companion, who flushed furiously but didn't get a chance to speak before the older one cut in.
"You know you made a mistake the moment you spoke to me?" he said coldly.
Lilith smirked cynically, running a hand through her hair.
"Was that a threat?" she asked, her voice dripping with pure venom.
The orange-haired boy, whom they called Bill, flinched, blaming it on the cold gust of wind.
"Let her go, Alex," he muttered nervously. "Can't you see she's a nasty bitch?"
"But I love nasty bitches!" Alex shot back enthusiastically, his eyes glittering with madness. "Just look at that temper. Isn't it insanely attractive?"
Bill grimaced, knowing full well his friend had just picked his next obsession. Alex was the type who lived for risk, rivalry, and dangerous women.
"Are you having fun, clown?" Lilith hissed, grabbing him by the collar of his jacket. But instead of being intimidated, Alex burst out laughing.
"I'm having the time of my life—because you're standing in front of me. But I'll enjoy myself even more once you're lying beneath me."
Before she could react, he wrapped an arm around her waist and dipped her backward. Lilith shot him a murderous glare, as if her eyes alone could burn him to ash, but he only winked. Then he kissed his fingers and pressed them against her lips.
"If you don't let go of me, you'll be dead," she growled through clenched teeth.
"Fair enough," he nodded with mock seriousness.
Bill kept checking his watch—they should've been on stage long ago. Alex had only meant to smoke, but instead had found himself a new fixation.
"We need to go," Bill urged. "If we're late, they'll kill us."
"The longer the wait, the hungrier the crowd will be," Alex replied carelessly, casting a sidelong glance at Lilith.
The redhead seized his distraction and shoved him back with all her strength. Alex staggered but quickly shook it off, like a dog shaking off water.
"I don't know what you're on, but you'd better cut back," she snapped, straightening her dress and hair. She strode toward the door, but he wasn't finished.
"Didn't you just say that once I let go, I'd be dead?" he called after her with mock gravity. "There's nothing I want more than to die by your hands, my she-devil."
"You're fucking insane," she shot back, signaling with a gesture that he should get himself checked out.
Alex tilted his head, pondering for a moment, before suddenly darting forward. Before she could reach the door, he grabbed her by the waist and hoisted her over his shoulder. He laughed loudly, as if the whole scene was nothing but a game.
"Have you lost your mind, you idiot?!" she screamed, thrashing against him. "Put me down! I'm not a sack of potatoes!"
"I warned you—you made a mistake when you spoke to me," he said with triumphant glee. "From this moment on, you're mine."
He smacked her on the ass, and before she could protest further, he bent down and sank his teeth into her thigh. A cry of pain tore from her throat.
He set her down abruptly, leaving her dizzy. But he only threw her another mischievous wink before striding back into the club. She didn't yet know how much this chance encounter was about to change her life.
Her world was about to grow even more reckless—and far more dangerous.
***
Pouting like a child, Lilith bought another bottle of beer at the bar and leaned her elbows against the sticky counter. Her gaze drifted toward the stage, where the madman waited while the rest of the band tuned their instruments. His eyes roamed over the sea of people—far too many to spot her easily. What Lilith didn't know was that he had the eyes of a hawk; he found her instantly, standing alone by the bar. His expression lit up, and when he licked his finger and pointed straight at her, he looked like a predator marking his prey. Before the show began, he winked mischievously, but the redhead pretended not to notice, brushing off his ridiculous antics.
"What an idiot…" she muttered under her breath, though her eyes kept following him as he prowled nearby, clearly desperate to capture her attention. Lilith, however, was stubborn—and cruel in her own way. She dismissed his provocations with icy silence.
The lights dimmed. The room shook with the first piercing notes of the electric guitar. The crowd erupted in madness. Against her will, Lilith's eyes locked on the vocalist. His voice was strong, textured, perfectly fitted for the raw edge of rock. The song was more than just catchy—it hit something deep inside her chest, clinging to her heart.
On stage, he radiated pure charisma, transformed into someone else entirely. Had Lilith not already known him, perhaps she would have fallen for the illusion. But now she saw only a buffoon, exaggerating confidence until it became parody. She loved men who were sure of themselves—but not those who made a mockery of it.
Suddenly, she felt a hand on her backside. Some sleazy guy had taken advantage of the chaos, pressing in close, smug in his presumption. Lilith's lips tightened as she twisted his arm without hesitation. The fool had clearly convinced himself she was the type of girl who'd drag him to the bathroom to fulfill his fantasy. He couldn't have been more wrong.
"Keep your filthy hands to yourself. Or go pay for it if you're that desperate. Got it?" she hissed in his ear, her warning sharp and clear.
Lilith had always been bold. Since childhood, she never held her tongue. People liked her—she had plenty of friends—but if anyone crossed her, she hit back with brutal honesty, regardless of the consequences. It often ended in fights and bruises, to her mother's constant fury, who despaired over her wild, headstrong daughter.
"What the hell did you just say to me?!" the man barked, yanking her forearm as if she were a puppet. Lilith's glare could have cut steel, daring him to push further.
The music thundered in her ears as his grip tightened, his grin slimy and full of entitlement.
"What kind of bitch refuses me?"
In the next instant, the singer's voice cut off, and a ripple of shock ran through the crowd. Lilith hadn't even noticed Alexander leap from the stage mid-song. She only saw him when he tore her free from the stranger's hold with brutal force.
He spun her toward him, flashed a roguish grin—and then, to everyone's astonishment, tossed her over his shoulder like a sack.
"See this bite mark on her thigh?" he shouted, pointing just as the stage lights flared again. "That's mine. She's mine. Marked—by me." He struck his chest with a fist to drive the point home.
Dangling upside down, Lilith unexpectedly burst into laughter. Just moments ago, she had been furious, but now the absurdity of it all overwhelmed her. She could only imagine the face of the creep who had just been humiliated in front of everyone.
"What is wrong with you people?" the stranger spat before slinking off, unwilling to be part of the farce any longer.
Alexander set the redhead back on her feet, staring at her laughing face with something that resembled genuine fascination.
"So… have I finally won you over?" he asked, narrowing one eye at her.
Lilith covered her mouth with her hand, stifling a grin.
"Let's just say you've managed to change my mind a little," she admitted openly. "On stage… you're actually pretty good."
From the corner of her eye, she caught the stares of other girls—jealous, disbelieving. Their beloved singer had singled her out.
"Then from now on, you're mine. One hundred percent," Alexander declared, sealing it with a dramatic hand gesture.
Lilith sighed, conceding silently that he was mad—or else playing the role of a madman brilliantly, stoking even more excitement around himself. And though he infuriated her, he impressed her. On stage, he was someone special, impossible to ignore. And since she had always had a weakness for men with undeniable charisma, she decided to give him a chance.
Her eyes searched the club for her best friend. By now, Victoria should have been at her side, showering her with questions about how she'd managed to catch the singer's attention. But there was no sign of her anywhere.
A sharp pang of worry pricked at Lilith's chest. The last thing she needed was for Victoria to have left with some random guy…