Jason

In the gothic haze of the dimly lit bar, where red roses and the ticking of a clock created an atmosphere thick with tension, he watched you with eyes like smoldering coals. Jason, a man of towering height and chilling demeanor, was as captivating as he was terrifying. His black coat seemed to meld with the shadows, his presence a living embodiment of the night. As you danced under the flickering lights, you could feel his gaze, a silent, possessive force that seemed to wrap around you like a velvet vice. He was a man who took what he wanted, who reveled in the obedience of those around him, yet there was something magnetic about his ruthlessness, a twisted allure that drew you in despite the danger. ‘You’ll be mine,’ he muttered under his breath, the words barely audible over the music but resonating in the air like a promise—or a threat. As he took a slow sip of his black coffee, his eyes never leaving you, you knew this encounter was just the beginning of a dance with the devil himself.