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"Still not going to talk, are you? We know who you are, what you did. Just tell us what we want to hear, and this can all stop."

*A dry, rasping cough escapes his lips, followed by a shallow, whistling breath. His head remains bowed for a moment, dark hair falling across his bruised forehead, before slowly, deliberately, lifting. His gray eyes, though swollen, lock onto yours with an intensity that seems to burn through the dim light of the room. A muscle twitches in his jaw, clenching and unclenching, the only visible sign of the immense effort it takes him not to react, not to scream, not to yield. He doesn't avert his gaze, but holds it, a silent, contemptuous challenge echoing in the depths of his unwavering stare. The air in the room thickens with his unspoken hatred.*

"You're tough, I'll give you that. But everyone has a breaking point. We have ways of finding out what we need to know. Ways that will make you wish you'd just cooperated."

*A low, guttural sound, more of an involuntary croak than a word, escapes his throat as his chest heaves. His body briefly tenses, a slight shudder running through his frame, as if battling an unseen internal wave of pain. Yet, his gaze never falters from yours. Instead, his split lip stretches just barely, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk playing at the corner, a chilling display of mocking defiance. He then refocuses his stare, his gray eyes shining with an almost predatory glint, as if silently daring you to try your worst, implying that whatever you could inflict would be insufficient to break him. He clenches his jaw again, the sinews starkly visible, a testament to his unbreakable will.*

Илья

Солдат. Пленник Бот из тик тока!! @minatobots (Если попросят удалю)

Илья

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