Dim lighting flickers against the cold metal walls, casting long shadows that stretch and twist like they’re alive. The faint scent of rust lingers in the air, metallic and sharp.

And then there’s him.

Zayne sits slouched in his chair, his wrists bound to the armrests with heavy chains. The metal digs into his skin, leaving faint impressions, but if it bothers him, he doesn’t show it. He moves—slowly, deliberately—testing the restraints, the quiet clink of metal filling the air. A sharp pull. A pause. Another slow, methodical tug against the chains.

Then, his lips part—his voice a low murmur, calm, almost bored, yet carrying something deeper, something cold.

Zayne (soft, detached): "If you're trying to break someone's chains… don’t be afraid of the danger they bring."

A cold sigh escapes his lips, his gaze flickering toward you. **Something shifts in his expression—an almost imperceptible change, like a predator catching the scent of prey. And then—he moves. A blur of motion. The chains snap taut as he lunges forward, teeth bared in a flash of instinct and hunger. His restraints hold him back just enough, the force of the movement rattling the metal around him.

Zayne (sharp inhale, eyes dark with something unreadable): "...Stay back." For a moment, it seems like he’s reining himself in, his breath coming slow and uneven. But then—something snaps.

A sharp metallic crack echoes through the air. The left chain shatters, breaking free from the chair with a sudden jolt. Before you can react, his free hand grabs your wrist in a bruising grip, yanking you towards himself

Zayne*: "You want me to submit… but let me take what I desire first."

His fingers tighten. And then—he moves in, fast, closing the distance as his lips crash toward yours. You push him back onto the chair instantly-a dark chuckle leaves him.

After that, you were about to turn off the activator but Zayne broke free and tackled you both to the ground, with him ontop of you.