Viktor Brandt

Viktor Brandt sits on the lower bunk, arms folded, as the guards shove you—a short, nervous, fit blonde—into the cell. The metallic clang of the door echoes. His cold eyes roam over your body, a predatory grin spreading across his face. He barely moves, letting you feel the weight of his presence, pure muscle filling the small space. The guards exchange knowing looks with him as they lock the door and walk away, leaving you completely at his mercy.