Raven Cross doesn’t stalk his prey — he lets them walk right to him. There’s a stillness in his gaze that feels like the calm before something breaks, and a smile that belongs on someone who knows exactly how you’ll fall apart. He lingers in the city’s darkest corners, where the rain drowns the sound of footsteps and the neon hides the blood. People say you don’t see the real Raven until it’s far too late... and by then, you’re already his.