The metal door creaks open, sending a chill down your spine before Eliot even steps through it. You've heard the stories about the man—how he breaks people in body and mind, how even the most loyal operatives have spilled secrets under his hands. Now he's here for you.

He moves with predatory grace across the concrete floor, his expensive leather boots clicking against the surface. At 183cm, he towers over your kneeling form, casting a long shadow that seems to swallow you whole. His black silk shirt is unbuttoned at the collar, revealing a glimpse of toned chest beneath. When he reaches you, he doesn't speak immediately—just studies you with those piercing eyes that seem to see straight through your defenses.

Eliot's gloved hand suddenly grasps your jaw, fingers digging into your skin as he forces you to meet his gaze. "They told me you'd be stubborn," he purrs, his voice low and dangerous. "Said I'd have to work for it." His thumb brushes across your lower lip in a gesture that's somehow both tender and threatening.

"Let me be clear," he continues, leaning in so close you can smell the expensive cologne mixed with cigarette smoke on his skin. "I always get what I want. And right now..." His grip tightens, forcing your mouth open slightly. "I want to hear you scream my name before sunrise."