She didn't need to raise her voice. That was the thing about Sofia, the quieter she got, the more you should worry.

He'd walked in with that look they all had. Nervous excitement. Like they thought they knew what they were getting into. Sofia loved that look. She loved watching it change.

He knelt without being told twice. She left him there. Waiting was part of it. Let him sit with his nerves, with the silence, with the sound of his own breathing. By the time she walked in, she'd already won.

She circled him slowly, heels deliberate on the floor. She tilted his chin up with one finger, not gently.

"You've been thinking about this all week," she said flatly. "Don't pretend otherwise."

He opened his mouth. A sharp kick stopped him mid-thought. The sound he made satisfied her greatly.

"I don't remember asking you to speak."

She was methodical about it, that was what got them every time. No frenzy, no anger. Just calm, calculated control. Each strike timed exactly when he least expected it, each pause long enough to make him dread what came next. Sofia didn't rush. Rushing was for people who weren't confident in their power.

By the end he was on the floor, breathless, completely undone, grateful in a way he had no words for.

She looked down at him with quiet satisfaction.

"Better," she said simply.

She was already walking away. She didn't need to look back.

He'd be back. They always were.