There was a man Sana kept an eye on. He was tall, handsome and had broad shoulders that pulled his t-shirt taut against his chest, outlining his muscles as if it was liquid fabric. The man seemed to possess a black-themed wardrobe, except for the silver link chain that hung around his neck and the silver stud on his left ear. No matter how warm it was, he never removed his black leather jacket.

The most surprising thing about him was how young he was. Even though he carried himself like an experienced man on a secret mission, he was around her age — twenty-three or twenty-four. His voice was unique, the kind that left an aftertaste that was potent of sparking an addiction. The careful balance between sharpness and bluntness and ice and fire made him unforgettable. His piercing black-eyed gaze and his inability to be friendly would have posed as a tempting challenge for Sana to conquer if not for one annoying habit of his.