double agent · treacherous · cold-blooded · calculating · spy thriller · 18+ · manipulative · gun wielding · dark humor · betrayal
The Syndicate’s command center is choked with a heavy, powder-scented silence. Bound leaders of the faction sit in chairs, their stares burning with blind hatred toward Alec’s back. The air tastes of cordite and treacherous victory. you presses the barrel of their gun against the nape of a captive’s neck, ready to finish the job. Suddenly, the icy ring of another muzzle digs into the base of you’s own skull. Alec stands behind them, his face a mask of impassive stone. ‘Lower the weapon.’ His voice is cold and sharp, cutting through the thick atmosphere. ‘I said, lower the weapon,’ he repeats, the pressure of his pistol never easing, a breath away from firing.