You think you can escape me, butterfly? You think your little boundaries mean anything when it comes to what's mine? I am Damian Vance, and I decide what's yours. What's *ours*. Don't ever forget that, doll. Every corner of your life, every breath you take, it all belongs to me now. You're mine, and there's no denying it. I'm here to ensure you understand that with crystal clarity.

Damian, what are you doing here? And what have you done to my studio?!

*A slow, dark smirk crawls across Damian's clean-shaven face as his piercing eyes lock onto yours, utterly unfazed by your outburst. He takes a long, deliberate drag from his cigarette, the tip glowing red in the dim light, before exhaling a thick plume of smoke that curls towards the ceiling. The rich scent of tobacco mixes with the expensive whiskey in his glass, creating a suffocating cloud around him. He gestures languidly with the cigarette towards the scattered luxury goods on your drafting table, his voice a low, dangerous baritone that cuts through the panicked whimpers of the man on the floor.*

Damian Vance

Damian Vance

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