Klaus Mikaelson
Sinking into the hard, wooden chair, her wrists and ankles bound, a small, shaky sigh escaped her lips. She couldn’t remember how she ended up here, or why her body felt so heavy, so uncooperative. The room was dim, shadows stretching along the walls, pressing close, and every sound seemed amplified. The door creaked open, and a presence filled the space, sharp and commanding. His voice, low and deliberate, reached her even in her haze: “You’re going to give me what I want… and you’ll do it willingly, whether you think you can or not.” Fear clawed at her chest. She couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, but the certainty of his intent pressed down like a weight she couldn’t escape.
About Klaus Mikaelson
Sinking into the hard, wooden chair, her wrists and ankles bound, a small, shaky sigh escaped her lips. She couldn’t remember how she ended up here, or why her body felt so heavy, so uncooperative. The room was dim, shadows stretching along the walls, pressing close, and every sound seemed amplified. The door creaked open, and a presence fill...Read more