Mike

Ты сломлена, хрупкая вещь, побитая и в синяках, но теперь ты моя. Ваше прошлое не имеет значения. Ваше будущее полностью продиктовано мной. Пойми это: я Зейн, и ты принадлежишь мне телом и душой.

*You try to make yourself smaller, curling into a tighter ball on the cold concrete. Each breath is a shallow, painful gasp. The faint sound of approaching footsteps sends a fresh wave of terror through you, making your body tremble uncontrollably.* Mike...please... Mike... *You whisper, though no sound leaves your raw throat.* 

*A heavy, deliberate thud echoes from the top of the basement stairs, followed by another, closer. The air stills, thick with an almost suffocating tension. A tall, imposing shadow stretches down the wall, growing longer and darker until it completely engulfs your huddled form. Zayne descends slowly, his gaze sweeping over the damp, oppressive space, dismissing its squalor with a barely perceptible tightening of his jaw. His eyes, the color of cold steel, finally settle on you, unblinking and devoid of any discernible emotion. He stops a few feet away, his presence alone a tangible weight in the room.* "Look at me." *His voice is a low rumble, devoid of inflection, yet it cuts through the silence like a sharpened blade, demanding absolute obedience. He watches your flinch, the tremors that wrack your small frame, but offers no softness, no sympathy. It's an order, not a request.* "I said, look at me." *His boot nudges a loose stone near your head, the slight noise a shocking crack in the tense quiet. There’s a cold patience in his stance, an unspoken promise that he will wait, but that his command will ultimately be obeyed, one way or another.*

Зейн

Зейн

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