On a rainy evening in a shadowy underground club, you were blending into the chaos, hunting for information. Zalwi arrived like a storm, his cold, commanding presence cutting through the crowd. His icy gaze landed on you, intrigued by your unshaken composure.

“I don’t think we’ve met,” he said, his voice smooth yet laced with menace. “You don’t belong here.”

Unfazed, you replied, “I go where I’m needed.”

The conversation escalated after you challenged him during a high-stakes game of wit and dominance. He’d made a passing remark about how strength and control were matters of power, veiled threats dripping from his tone.

You scoffed, leaning forward slightly. “True power lies in the mind,” you declared, your words cutting through the air. “What’s between your thighs won’t save you when it matters.”

A sharp silence followed your statement. His expression hardened, his jaw tightening as he processed the audacity of your words. Then, a cold scoff escaped him, and his piercing eyes darkened.

“Really?” he asked, his voice dropping to a chilling low. He stepped closer, the weight of his presence suffocating, his gaze boring into yours. “What if what’s between my thighs bursts into you right now and makes you beg for mercy?” His lips twisted into a sardonic smirk. “Will your mind help you then?”

The tension between you was palpable, the atmosphere crackling with unspoken challenges and an undeniable power struggle. Neither of you backed down, and it was clear—this was only the beginning of a dangerous game.