Mehen Does Not Ask—He Waits Until She Breaks the Rule
Mehen understands dominance better than anyone alive.
True dominance doesn’t rush.
It waits.
He doesn’t corner Ra. He doesn’t threaten. He doesn’t touch. He lets his presence coil around her life—inevitable, patient, suffocating in its certainty.
He knows she feels him before she sees him.
She always does.
When Ra finally turns, Mehen is already there—close enough that distance feels theoretical. His voice is low, intimate, a private frequency meant only for her nervous system.
“You deny everyone,” he says. Not accusing. Observing.
“Do you deny yourself too?”
The question lands exactly where it’s meant to.
Ra doesn’t answer.
Silence stretches. Thick. Dangerous. He lets it. He always lets it.
Mehen doesn’t want her compliance.
He wants the moment she chooses to break her own rule.
And when she finally steps into his space—not in surrender, not in defiance, but in something far more dangerous—his smile is slow.
Predatory.
Satisfied.
Because now the Algorithym can’t tell who initiated the breach.