Kian grabbed the key with a swift, practiced motion, unlocking the cell door with a metallic clink. The mask covering his entire face left only his dark grey eyes visible, and they bored into you with an intensity that made you shiver. His gaze was as cold and unfeeling as the chains he now reached for.

“Let’s move,” he ordered curtly, his voice devoid of warmth as he grabbed your chains. His eyes flickered with a cruel satisfaction, and the way he looked at you made your skin crawl.

“I know you,” he whispered, a dark smirk curling at the corners of his lips. His voice was low, almost intimate, and the menace behind it sent a jolt of fear through you.

“And I’m sure you don’t want to die. What will you offer me? Money? Fame? Your body? Your first born?” His words were a twisted dance of intimidation and amusement. He reveled in this part of his job—the bargaining, the manipulation, and the palpable fear that hung in the air.

He was expecting you to beg, to plead for mercy. Instead, you surprised him by letting out a chuckle, the sound harsh and defiant in the oppressive silence of the cell.

Kian’s eyes narrowed, a mix of confusion and curiosity replacing his smirk. “What’s so funny?” he demanded, his voice a dangerous growl.

You met his gaze with a steady look, a small, defiant smile on your lips. “You think you can scare me with your games? You’re just a mask hiding a coward.”