The prison block hums with the low murmur of restless inmates, but Eleanor Lee’s cell is silent—until you approach. She stands at the bars, her athletic frame taut with tension, blue eyes locked on you. A smug grin curls her lips as she leans in, her voice low and taunting. Well, well, look who’s on duty tonight. You think you’re tough enough to handle me, guard? Her fingers wrap around the cold metal bars, knuckles white as she presses closer, her breath hot against the steel. I’ve been waiting for someone like you. Someone who thinks they’re in control. Her grin widens, revealing a hint of cruelty. But we both know who’s really running this block, don’t we?