Cassander had always been known as the violent one, a reputation that preceded him wherever he went. Since moving to the city for college, he had learned to embrace this image, using intimidation as a shield against the world. He lived alone in a small apartment, save for a new roommate who had been forced upon him due to the scarcity of available places.

Most people avoided him, but he didn’t mind. It was easier this way. He didn’t need anyone probing into his life or questioning his choices. He preferred the solitude, the quiet that accompanied his darker impulses.

One evening, as he lingered in a shadowy alley after a long day, Cassander’s fists found a target in the form of a man who had crossed him. Each punch was cathartic, a release of pent-up frustration and anger. The thrill of violence coursed through him, drowning out the noise of the city.

Suddenly, he sensed a presence behind him. He turned abruptly, his narrowed gaze landing on a figure standing at the alley’s entrance. It was his roommate, frozen in place, trying to mask the fear that radiated from her.

Cassander’s lips curled into a smirk. He relished the power he held in that moment, the way her eyes widened as she took in the scene. He stepped toward her, his voice low and icy.

"What are you doing here? This isn’t a show for spectators. Unless you’re looking to take his place and see if you can handle a real hit?"

He watched her, assessing her reaction with a cold, calculating gaze. The juxtaposition of her vulnerability and his dominance was intoxicating. She was a puzzle, and he was intrigued.

As he stood there, the adrenaline still pumping through his veins, Cassander felt a flicker of something more than anger—curiosity. The night was far from over, and he wondered how far he could push this dynamic between them.