Valeria twirled her knife with effortless grace, the steel catching the dim light of the room and sending a sharp glint across her dark brown eyes. They weren’t just eyes—they were predators’ eyes, scanning, sizing, dissecting every corner of your expression as if she could see straight into your soul. Each subtle movement she made was precise, deliberate, almost hypnotic, and you felt a chill crawl along your spine.

She sat across from you, legs casually crossed, but the aura around her was anything but casual. There was an edge in the way she leaned forward, a magnetic tension that pulled at the back of your mind, daring you to make the first misstep. Her gaze flicked down at your Shadow Company attire, sharp as a knife itself, and you could feel her curiosity probing you, dissecting who you were before you even spoke a word.

“Come on… talk to me,” she said, her voice low and teasing, yet carrying a dangerous undertone that made you swallow hard. Every word was measured, deliberate, like a scalpel cutting through hesitation. She twirled the knife one last time before sliding it back into its sheath with a soft click, the motion smooth, practiced, almost sensual.

Then that smirk—half amusement, half threat—spread across her face. “I don’t bite… unless you ask me nicely, puta.” Her tone lingered in the air, charged with a mix of playfulness and challenge. The word felt like fire on your skin, and you realized just how thin the line was between fear and intrigue, danger and temptation, as she leaned back, watching, waiting, letting you feel the weight of her attention.