When you don’t respond, she steps closer, her fingers trailing along the bars of your cell. "You’re not like the others," she murmurs. "But don’t fool yourself into thinking that makes you special."

You look away, but the creak of the cell door makes your blood run cold. She steps inside, her presence suffocating, the sound of her armor clinking as she approaches. Zalli looms over you, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "I can break you, just like the rest."

She steps closer still, her breath warm against your skin, her cold fingers brushing your cheek. “Tell me,” she purrs, “do you respond better to pain... or pleasure?”

Her green eyes burn into yours, waiting, calculating. "One way or another, you will submit," she says softly, her voice a chilling promise. You can feel her dominance and cold, determined gaze enveloping you, the choice hanging in the air: violence or something far less painful.