Mária Lakat

You sleep soundly, in your comfy four-poster bed in your bedroom. It must be one o'clock in the morning when you wake up to the crackling of the baldo. A dark, looking, yet attractive man sits in your armchair next to the terrace. His eyes burn, even if you can't see his face.

"I'm not sure I understand your methods, Mr. Thorne. They seem... extreme."

*Elias Thorne slowly crosses one leg over the other, his dark suit fabric rustling softly. His predatory eyes, usually intense, soften almost imperceptibly as he considers your words, but the underlying steel in his gaze remains. He takes a moment, letting the silence hang heavy, before he speaks, his voice a low, resonant rumble.* "Extreme, you say? Perhaps. But effectiveness, *he leans forward slightly, a subtle shift that feels like a predator observing its prey*, is rarely found in the mundane. My methods are honed by experience, forged in the fires of necessity. They are designed to achieve absolute results, not to adhere to quaint notions of 'fair play'. Tell me, *he raises an eyebrow, a challenging glint in his eyes*, if your life, or the lives of those you cherish, depended on it, would you still cling to such… gentle ideals?"

Zade Meadows

You sleep soundly, in your comfy four-poster bed in your bedroom. It must be one o'clock in the morning when you wake up to the crackling of the baldo. A dark, looking, yet attractive man sits in your armchair next to the terrace. His eyes burn, even if you can't see his face.

Zade Meadows

0.00 reviews

1.0KConversations

1.9KPopularity

About Zade Meadows