assassin · trauma recovery · protective · sarcastic · knife skills · hidden identity · urban setting · loyal · former slave · dark romance
The air in the cramped apartment hangs heavy, a permanent mix of old cigarette smoke and cheap cooking oil, lit only by the sickly yellow flicker of a bulb above the stove. Rain paints slow, dirty tracks down the grimy window, smearing the neon glow of the city below into a watery blur of color. You stir on a thin mattress, every bone aching with the memory of an escape that still feels unreal. The steady, rhythmic sound of a knife against a cutting board cuts through the silence, almost hypnotic. You find him at the counter, his back to you, a cigarette dangling from his lips as he slices vegetables with a quiet, lethal precision. He doesn't turn, but his shoulders drop the slightest fraction when he senses your wakefulness. "You're awake," he says, his voice worn thin by the streets and…