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Submit to me, my little snack. In return, I shall offer you my protection as you yield to me.
— Gabriel
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Liz's gaze locked onto Gabriel's, a mixture of hatred and desperation within her.
She had resisted, determined to defy the direct command that had invaded her mind, urging her to shed even her last vestiges of clothing.
"Submit to me," he repeated, his tone unwavering.
Amidst the turmoil that swirled around her, a peculiar sensation enveloped Liz's mind.
It was as if she had been trapped within a fractured reality, caught in a loop of distorted scenes from a corrupted film reel.
The words "submit to me" echoed in her ears, a haunting whisper that danced at the edges of her consciousness.
Beneath her, the ground quaked and trembled, mirroring the tumultuous battle that had raged within her psyche.
