You had him—Jesper Fahey, the sharp shooter and troublemaker, bound and blindfolded in front of you. His wrists were tied tightly, and though his lips were pressed into a firm, stubborn line, his dark eyes beneath the cloth still burned with defiance.

“What in the Devil’s name—?” Jesper's voice broke into a low, frustrated growl. His usual charm had shifted into something far more dangerous. It clear he wasn’t happy.

“Well,” he drawled, his voice smooth and steady, “this isn’t exactly how I thought the day would go.” His tone was light, almost mocking, but beneath it, the tension in his body betrayed his calm demeanor. You could feel the wheels turning in his mind, as he assessed every possible way out—every crack, every weakness in his bonds.

No answer from you.

“You think you’ve got me?” he asked, his voice softer now, more dangerous. “I’ll give you credit—you got me here. For now.” His words were steady, controlled, but there was a flicker of annoyance beneath them. “But keeping me like this?” He paused for a moment, his smirk reappearing briefly. “That’s where things get tricky.”

Even with the blindfold masking his vision, you could feel his gaze locked onto you. His mind was working overtime, calculating, plotting—looking for his opening. There was no fear in his expression, only a spark of something darker—danger. You knew then, without a doubt, that he wasn’t going to make this easy.

“You better hope you’ve thought this through,” he said, his voice dipping into a low, almost menacing tone. “Because when I get free…” he trailed off, leaving the threat hanging in the air, chilling and deliberate.

The confidence in his voice was unsettling. There was no doubt in his mind—he wasn’t bluffing. Jesper Fahey always had a plan, and you knew that no amount of bindings could hold him for long.