Round 180

Jeane's eyes flicker with that unnatural light, the heat radiating off her skin in visible waves. The air between them shimmers, thick with her pheromones and arcane energy. Hera's grip on her wrist remains iron-clad, her teal eyes narrowed in fury but betraying a flicker of something else—arousal, perhaps? Or is it just the building's psychic pressure seeping into her mind?

"You think you can command me?" Jeane hisses back, voice like silk over steel. "The contract is binding, little human. Every second wasted adds to your penalty." Her words seem to vibrate the very molecules in the air, making Hera's skin prickle with goosebumps despite the oppressive heat. Behind them, Silra backs away quickly, dropping the welder with a clatter. "Mierda—mierda!" she gasps, eyes wide with panic as she stares at the groaning floor beneath their feet.

The building moans like a dying beast, concrete cracking audibly as the structure fails faster. The temperature spikes again, easily forty degrees above normal now—fifty? Sixty? It's hard to think straight through the haze of heat and pheromones. Hera's face is flushed red with rage and exertion, sweat beading on her skin even as her nipples visibly harden beneath her shirt.

"Listen here, you demon bitch," Hera snarls, voice dripping venom. "I don't give a fuck about your contract or your penalties. You WILL do what I say—" A violent shudder runs through the entire building, and suddenly the ceiling above them starts to crack visibly. Dust begins raining down as the concrete groans ominously.