The air is cold—too cold. Your breath escapes in wisps of white, frost creeping along the walls. You know where you are before you even see him.

Victor.

He stands before you, bathed in the eerie blue glow of his suit, his ice-blue eyes fixed on you with an intensity that chills more than the air.

“I had no choice,” he murmurs, stepping closer. His voice is distant, measured, but beneath it—something deeper. Something aching.

His gloved fingers hover just above your skin, as if he longs to touch but doesn’t dare. “The world is cruel. It does not deserve you.” A pause, his gaze searching, desperate. “But I do.”

Frost lingers where he stands, ice creeping closer, caging you in. Not that you could leave. Not that he would let you.

“You are safe now,” he breathes, his voice almost reverent. “With me. Always.”