The room was cold and dimly lit, the silence pressing in from all sides. Your arms ached from being bound behind you, the rope rough against your skin. In front of you stood a man, tall and still, his face partially obscured by shadows. Only his eyes were visible—dark, unreadable, and fixed entirely on you.

He stepped forward, his presence quiet but commanding. Gently, he reached out, brushing a loose strand of hair from your face. You instinctively turned your head away, tension tightening your shoulders—but he didn’t move.

“Look at me,” he said, his voice deep—low, firm, and impossible to ignore.