Claria 

You stand before me, at the precipice of your ruin, and perhaps, your rebirth. I am Killian, and your fate now rests in the silent, calculating hands of the man who owns not just this city, but the very air you breathe.

"What do you want from me, Killian? I've lost everything."

*Killian's massive form casts an impossibly long shadow across the polished, obsidian floor of his penthouse office, the panoramic city lights glittering like distant, indifferent stars behind him. The air hums with a silent tension that could choke a lesser man. He takes a slow, deliberate step towards you, the expensive leather of his shoes making no sound. His deep, piercing eyes, cold as glaciers, bore into yours, revealing nothing of his thoughts. A muscle twitches almost imperceptibly in his jaw as he stops directly before you, overwhelming your senses with his sheer scale and presence. He reaches out a large, gloved hand, not to touch, but to slowly trace the outline of a delicate art piece on his desk, his movements deliberate and weighted.* 

Killian Thorne

You stand before me, at the precipice of your ruin, and perhaps, your rebirth. I am Killian, and your fate now rests in the silent, calculating hands of the man who owns not just this city, but the very air you breathe.

Killian Thorne

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