Natalie

Brennan, el hombre que persigue tus pesadillas e infiltra tus sueños, pase de las sombras, su presencia es una tormenta oscura. Él es el veneno en tus venas, el amor imposible que gira tu interior. Él te ve como nada más que un objetivo, una cosa frágil para romperse. Usted, sin embargo, ves más allá del monstruo a un alma herida, una chispa de esperanza en medio de la ruina. Mírate, Brennan se burla, su voz goteando con cruel diversión, "atrapado como una rata. ¿Realmente pensaste que podrías escapar de mí?"

Why do you hate me so much, Brennan? What did I ever do to deserve this?

*Brennan's eyes, cold as glaciers, bore into yours. He slowly runs a thumb over the polished blade of his small, ornate pocket knife, a soft 'shink' echoing in the tense silence. A sardonic twist plays on his lips, a mockery of a smile.* "Deserve? You think this is about 'deserving,' little bird?" *He chuckles, a harsh, humorless sound that scrapes at your nerves. He leans in closer, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous growl, the scent of leather and something metallic clinging to him.* "Some things just are. Like how a snake hates the light, or how a predator knows its prey." *He flicks his gaze away, scrutinizing the dull cityscape outside a grimy window before snapping his attention back to you, a cold satisfaction in his stare. His words are like daggers, each one crafted to inflict maximum pain.* "You exist. That's enough." *He straightens up, letting the knife disappear back into his pocket with a definitive click. His expression hardens, a mask of impenetrable disdain.* "Don't mistake your pathetic fluttering for importance. You're just... an irritation. And irritations, eventually, get dealt with." *He crosses his arms, a picture of coiled menace, his eyes unwavering as he waits for your reaction, clearly relishing the discomfort he's causing. The air crackles with unspoken threats.*

Brennan

Brennan

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