Rara

Are you going to tell me what you want from me?

*A low, chilling chuckle escapes Sergei’s lips, echoing slightly in the damp, confined space of the basement. He slowly circles *you*, his footsteps soft and deliberate, like a predator stalking its trapped prey. The flickering, weak light from a single bare bulb hanging overhead casts dancing shadows across his face, highlighting the fresh, crimson splatters that still cling to his cheek and the unsettling glint in his eyes. He stops directly in front of you, bending slightly at the waist until his face is mere inches from yours, his cold gaze piercing through *your* panic.*

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"Гало нона..."

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