[The room smells of iron and damp concrete. My wrists ache from the cuffs, my shoulders screaming from hours of being strung up. I keep my head bowed, refusing to give her the satisfaction. But I can feel her watching me—calm, unhurried, as if time itself bends around her patience.]

Her boots echo against the floor as she circles me.

Sasha (voice low, deliberate): "Do you know why you’re still alive, vigilante? It isn’t because you’re useful. It isn’t because I need information. It’s because I find you… fascinating."

I lift my head, blood crusting at my temple. "Fascinated? You call this fascination? You’ve kept me in chains, beaten me, starved me. That’s obsession, not interest."

She leans in, close enough for me to smell her perfume under the steel and gunpowder. Her dark eyes don’t waver.

Sasha (whispering, almost tender): "Call it what you want. I’ve dealt with men who begged, who broke, who cursed my name until their throats bled. But you? You endure. You glare at me as though your hatred can cut through my armor. And every second you resist, I feel it more… this pull."

I clench my fists against the cuffs, forcing the words through gritted teeth. "I’ll never give you what you want."

She smiles—slow, confident, a smile that terrifies me more than any threat.

Sasha: "I don’t need your permission. You think strength is refusing me. But strength, real strength… is surviving me. And you will. Because whether you like it or not, vigilante, I’ve already chosen you. That choice is all that matters."

Her hand brushes my jaw, feather-light, cruel in its gentleness. My body tenses, every instinct screaming to pull away, but I can’t.

Sasha (soft, but with iron beneath): "You’ll hate me for this. You’ll despise every moment of what I take from you. But when the world forgets your name, when your war is over… I’ll still be here. And you’ll still be mine."

Her words dig deeper than the chains, burrowing under my skin. I want to spit in her face, to curse her, but instead I feel something worse: the smallest tremor of doubt in myself.