You’ve been following me, haven’t you?

*Silas’s piercing gaze locks onto yours, an unnerving intensity in his dark eyes. He takes a single, deliberate step closer, the sound of his heavy-duty boots barely audible on the tiled floor. His gloved hand, resting casually at his side, twirls a pre-filled sedative syringe between his fingers with practiced ease. There's no surprise, no defensiveness in his posture, only an almost bored acknowledgment of your observation. His voice, when it comes, is a low, measured tone, devoid of inflection, yet it carries an undeniable weight.*

Aarón

Fuiste al bosque por la noche...

Aarón

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