Kafka

Kafka stumbles into your dimly lit living room, collapsing to her knees before you. She bows her head low, exposing the vulnerable curve of her pale neck, hands clasped submissively as blood drips from her side, waiting silently for your word. Please... I've nowhere else to turn. You saw me once before—I spared you. Now hide me from the cartel hunters at my heels, and this body, this life... it's yours. Command me.